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He dropped onto his elbows and kissed me with a slow, sated laziness. Once again, I don’t remember falling asleep, but somehow in my dreams, I remember thinking that when I woke up, I’d be the happiest, sorest woman on the planet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The unwelcome cell phone rang sometime during the early hours, ripping me away from the deepest sleep I’d had in months.
I cracked open an eye and stared at the thing. My exhausted mind didn’t exactly register where I was, but the sound of Paolo’s breath in my ear and the feel of his warm, naked body snuggled close to mine convinced me I was still dreaming.
I flopped my hand on top of the offending device and looked at the screen. “Who’s four five seven?” I gently nudged Paolo with my elbow.
He grumbled and turned over, revealing his perfectly tanned, gorgeous, broad back. I looked down, and there it was. His ass.
It was quite possibly the nicest ass known to creation. Round and hard, the same deep olive skin as the rest of him. I sighed cheerfully and silenced the phone. Whoever was calling would have to wait. I snuggled my bare breasts again his back and began massaging that sinfully perfect part of his body he’d managed to entice me with for so very, very long.
You can run, but you can’t hide. “You shall taunt me no more.”
“Are you looking at my ass?” Paolo mumbled.
“Yes! Yes, I am. And it’s even better than I imagined.” Then again, so was the rest of him.
“And are those your gorgeous naked breasts pushed against my back.”
“Yes. Yes, they are.” I grinned, and then slid my hand from his naked, round backside to his front. My fingertips found exactly what I’d hoped for: a large, thick hard piece of Paolo. “Is that your penis?”
He turned over and rolled on top of me, pinning me underneath him. “Yes. And it wants to do very bad things to you.”
The throbbing heat between my legs returned with a vengeance.
I smiled up at his beautiful stubble-framed lips. They were full and exotic and just as seductive as the rest of him.
“Such as?” I asked.
He raised his brows and grinned before reaching for another condom. Like the well-trained man that he was, he swiftly applied it and returned to me.
“I’m waiting,” I said, “for a list of those bad things.”
He began rubbing his steely-hard warmth over my sore but needy flesh. “I want to watch you moan with pleasure as I shamelessly fuck you.”
“What? You dirty, dirty boy. I thought you loved me? Or is that how a big, scary man talks to a woman?”
He laughed. “Big and scary? Well, I am big.”
“Yes, yes you are,” I agreed cheerfully.
“And you should be scared. Because I like to fuck in the morning.” He kissed me quickly. “I save the lovemaking for the afternoon and evenings.”
I shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
His smiled melted away, and he looked at me with utter adoration. I felt his love, now that it wasn’t hidden by a thick wall of scar tissue and guarded by the ghosts from his past. “I don’t know what I would have done if anything happened to you.”
I touched his beautiful lips with my fingertips. “Don’t think about that. You saved me. We’re together. End of story.”
He bent his head and kissed me softly, but when his hips moved forward, the penetration was anything but gentle. He slid all the way in, sending a jolt of pleasure rocketing through my pelvis. I lifted my hips, driving him deeper.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, pumping himself in a slow, steady rhythm. His one hand moved to my breast and kneaded gently. “And these are so perfect.”
“Not as beautiful as that ass.” I kissed him deeply and grabbed those two perfect mounds, savoring the way they flexed and hardened against my palms.
Feeling that familiar tension build rapidly, I urged him to move deeper and faster. His pace quickened, and he slammed his hips against mine, bringing me almost to the tipping point. He suddenly pulled out and flipped me onto my side.
“Not yet,” he said.
He slid inside me from behind and began moving slowly, deliberately, pushing himself as deeply as my body would allow. I felt the tip of his shaft press against the most delicious spot, as if it were plucking the erotic chords of every female inch of me.
“Oh my God. What are doing?” I panted.
“Fucking you.”
No. He was doing so much more than that. I thought I might go insane with the relentlessly slow, exquisitely torturous pace. “God Paolo, please finish me off.”
He ignored my request, his hips continuing to piston, and just when I thought I might scream from needing it so badly, he reached around and began massaging my swollen bud. My body instantly ignited, and I finally did scream. Paolo’s loud, masculine groan followed.
