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At her waist, his hands found the elastic of her shorts and pushed them down, easing them from her body. She lifted her bottom off the mattress to make it easier.
His hands didn’t leave her legs long, once he’d discarded the shorts. Starting at her ankles, they began a slow cruise upwards, towards her thighs, where he pushed a little, separating her legs. She groaned, writhing on the bed beneath him, impatient, hungry for him.
“Don’t forget a condom.” Inwardly, she was surprised she’d managed to remember.
“I will. When it’s time.”
She didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant. His mouth connected with her sex, his tongue – his clever, clever tongue – moving slowly at first, and then more intently, buzzing her sensitive cluster of nerves until she was burning up. It was so intimate her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t think, for even one moment, of asking him to stop. Instead, her hands found his hair, running through it, holding on as pleasure threatened to burst through her, tearing her apart completely.
When she was at the brink of breaking, he moved faster, his tongue tormenting her, lashing her until she was trembling. She arched her back and pushed down against him and then she was tumbling off the edge of the earth, exploding against his mouth, exploding with his name on her lips over and over again.
It was unrelenting. Even as she came, he didn’t stop, so she was fire and flame, desperate for him even as she was at the end of her tolerance for pleasure. He somehow knew – he understood, and pulled away, moving his mouth to her inner thigh, kissing the flesh there before moving back to her sex, kissing her more gently, allowing her time to breathe, to recover before he began his next incursion. This time, a finger moved inside of her and she moaned, shaking her head, desperate and terrified of the strength of her desperation even as she knew she would happily surrender to this anytime, anywhere.
He watched her in a way that made her feel precious and special and sexier than sin. He watched her in a way that she loved, like he wanted to understand everything about her so he could pleasure her over and over. The promise was delicious but she pushed it away. This wasn’t about promises. It was just this. Sex. No, not just sex. It was more. It was a healing, a balm, an undoing of Michael, overwriting the memories of how he’d treated her body with this: someone who was worshipping her, existing purely to pleasure her.
It was a physical act with an emotional resonance that she didn’t want to analyse in that moment.
And it was only just beginning.
Chapter 3
SANTA MADRE DI VIA. What was happening?
This was fast, even for him. Sure, he was no stranger to one-night stands but usually he took a woman for dinner and drinks first, and knew more about her than her first name. This had been like an avalanche. From the minute she’d stepped into his home he’d felt as though this had been pre-determined. He’d tried to fight it – briefly – to be noble and remember that she was there as a guest, sheltering during a storm, but then she’d put her hand on his chest and he’d exploded with a need that was feral and wild, unspeakably urgent.
Her body was so responsive. She burned up at the slightest touch, and he loved touching her. His fingertips stole across her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake for his lips to pursue all the way to her cupid’s bow of a mouth, which he claimed as though he’d been doing it all his life.
She tasted like strawberries and moonlight. She was soft beneath his hardness, her breasts crushed beneath his chest. He extended an arm without breaking their kiss, pulling a condom from his bedside table. He had to lift up from her then, to rip the foil square open with his teeth and guide the condom over his arousal.
Her eyes were locked to his and there was a question in them, a doubt that had him pausing, bracing himself over her. God, he wanted her, but he was mindful even then of the circumstances of this, of the fact he’d offered her sanctuary in his home, the knowledge that he didn’t want her to feel she’d been taken advantage of.
“You’re sure?” He lifted a hand and stroked the side of her face, marvelling at the softness of her skin – like a rose petal.
“Uh huh,” she nodded, but the doubt was still there, trapped in her eyes.
“We don’t have to…”
She shook her head urgently. “Don’t you dare stop. I want this. I want you.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.” Relief permeated his body and his arousal nudged between her legs. And for the briefest moment, he paused, pushing up to stare at her again. “You’re not a virgin?”
She burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
Okay. It was a stupid thing to ask. “You looked hesitant,” he explained.
“I’m not.” A slight frown touched her lips. “It’s just…this isn’t something I do often.”
“Sex?” He queried, pushing his arousal against her, so she gasped.
“With a stranger.”
“We’re not strangers,” he grinned. “You’re Maddie…”
“Gray,” she supplied, pushing up to kiss him, smiling against his mouth.
“Right. Maddie Gray. And I’m Niccolo Montebello.”
He pushed inside her as he said his name, and whatever she’d been about to think or say was lost in the groan that consumed her body. Gesú Christo, she was so tight. Her muscles squeezed him hard, her body lifting to meet his, her hands on his hips digging in so her nails scored deep marks in his flesh. “Perfection,” he grunted, once he was buried deep inside her.
