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"That was not what I was expecting to hear."
"You and me both." I laugh, and the sound comes out uncertain. Me, the consigliere to theCosa Nostra, uncertain? Me, the kinky, perverted asshole who vowed never to sleep with a woman more than once, wooing this curvy, exquisite force of nature with words? Whoa, what the hell is happening to me?
"Now what?" She licks her lips, and I lower my gaze to her mouth.
"Now," I lower my face to hers until our breaths mingle, "we make love."
37
Aurora
Make love? Did the alphahole just say make love? Doesn’t mean he is in love with me, though, does it?
He holds my gaze. "What do you say?" he murmurs. "Can I make love to you?"
"Wait…" I laugh. "Did you just ask my permission to make love to me?"
His brow furrows as if he’s hearing himself for the first time. "I did, didn’t I? Minchia!" He drags his fingers through his hair. "Well, what do you say?" He peers into my features, and for a moment, he seems almost unsure of himself. But that’s not possible. Christian is way too confident, too dominant to defer to my decision.
"Do you want to fuck me?" I tip my chin up.
"I want to make love with you."
"And that’s different from what we did earlier; how?"
"Want to find out?" He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck. I shiver. Damn, he may have asked me for my permission, but the strength of his personality remains unchallenged. He draws me up to my tiptoes, then just as I think that he’s going to kiss me, he lowers his knees, places his other arm under my butt, and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he brushes his lips over mine once, twice. He nibbles on my lips, and I part them. He sweeps his tongue inside to tangle with mine, and goose bumps pop on my skin. When he is this tender, yet this overpowering, he completely slays me. I wrap my arms about his neck and press my breasts into his chest. "Cazzo," he swears, "those tits of yours are going to be the death of me."
He presses little kisses across my cheek and down to my throat as he walks toward the bedroom. He places me down on the bed, then throws himself down next to me. He moves up until he’s resting against the headboard, then wraps his hands behind his neck. "Take off your clothes."
"And I only just put them on." I huff. "Why can’t you make up your mind once and for all about what you want from me?"
"You done being bratty, babe?"
I blow out a breath, then nod.
"Good, then take off your pants."
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, then rise up to my feet and shove the zipper of my pants down. I reach for my waistband when he admonishes me. "Slowly," he growls.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, then wriggle the pants down my hips. I step out of them, kick them aside, then reach for my panties.
"Did I ask you to touch that?"
I scowl.
He smirks, looks me up and down, then jerks his chin. "Take off your top."
I grab the hem of my top and whip it off, then throw it at him. He catches it, then buries his head in the fabric, and draws a long breath. "Jesus, you smell so good, baby."
He drops my top to the side, then surveys my chest. "Remove your bra."
I slide my hands up my back, unhook my bra, then slip them down my shoulders. I hold the bra-cups against my breasts for a second, hiding them from view.
He growls.
I lower my arms to my side, and my bra slides down to the floor.
He draws in a sharp breath and his shoulders rise and fall as he stares at my breasts. "Your tits, fuck; they are fucking perfect." He flexes his fingers as if he can't wait to cup them. My breasts seem to swell, and my nipples harden.
