Page 68 of Out of Control

I meet his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest and butterflies taking flight in my stomach with a giddiness I’ve never felt before. “Both.” A kiss. “You.” A longer, deeper kiss. “This.” A tease at the nape of his neck with my fingernails. “The thought of you doesn’t do the feel of you any justice.”

He chuckles. “Lucky for me.”

I reach down where he’s already growing hard. “And you’re definitely not soft.”

“No. I’m most definitely not.” He groans. “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish, Bellissima.”

“Pretty sure, I’m finishing.” I scrape my fingernails against the fabric of his pants.

“The food’s going to get cold.”

I tug on his bottom lip. “Mm. There are other things to eat.”

“The back door is unlocked.” He tries to maintain a steady voice, sound unaffected, but it’s growing husky with each passing second.

“Then lock the door, Ollie.”

“Oh. Might something be happening?”

I chuckle. It’s low and deep and taunting. And when I strip my shirt slowly over my head, taking my camisole with it, the weight of my breasts bouncing, his guttural groan echoes in the empty space as his eyebrows raise. “Yes. Something might be happening.”

He flashes the sexiest grin as he moves toward the back door, his shirt already discarded and his pants being unbuttoned in the process.

When he returns, we both face each other naked in the muted light of the room. Jesus. It doesn’t matter how many times I see his beautiful body, I’m still taken aback by it. His toned, tanned chest. The darkened discs of his nipples. The hint of a happy trail.

“There are people outside,” he says and motions to the shadows on the other side of the brown-papered windows.

“There are.” I nod and glance around. A lot of shadows, in fact. “What do you think they think we’re doing in here?”

“A little bit of this.” He takes a step forward, stroking his cock in his hand. “A little bit of that.” He groans as his eyes scrape up and down the length of me.

“Oh, and here I thought all we were going to do is paint,” I say coyly as I reach out to the paint tray beside me and dip my finger into it.

“Paint?” he says and steps into my space. My body’s a ball of need and desire.

I reach out and paint a heart over his heart. He watches as I slowly fill it in and when I finish, his lips find mine in a slow, tantalizing kiss that makes me ache for more.

“My turn,” he murmurs. I gasp when he dips both of his palms in the paint and then cups my breasts. When he lets go, there’s a perfect set of his handprints holding me there.

“That’s some handiwork,” I say and kiss him again. “Pun intended.”

“Things are about to get messy, Sofia,” he says against my lips.

“Perfect. Welcome to my life.”

He palms my ass, his hands slick with paint as he presses me against him. His cock is hard against my lower belly and my body’s greedy for his. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s been less than two weeks. How can I miss him this much? “Show me how much.” Our lips meet again. The kiss is tantalizing and hungry. Our hands keep gliding, keep marking each other’s skin as we slowly lower ourselves to the floor.

But it’s when I lie back, when I spread my thighs for him and earn that growl deep in his chest as he takes in just how ready I am for him, he starts to laugh.

“Um . . .” He purses his lips and holds up his hands coated in paint. It’s then that I get what he’s saying. He can’t hold his cock to guide it into me. There’s paint . . . everywhere.

“I’m pretty sure we’re skilled enough to handle the challenge.”

“Bellissima, I’m a goddamn pro,” he says as he grabs my thighs and pulls me toward him. Our lips meet. Our tongues dance. His words incite. “Get on all fours.”

Four words. Instant chills.