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She was so unguarded, so sincere. This woman had been denied a lot of things—warmth and comfort and safety. She’d been denied physical pleasure, too, and that was a crime. Because it was becoming apparent to him that she was a creature of passion, greedy for all the pleasure he could give her. And he had a lot of that to give.
Pleasure wasn’t new to him, but for some reason introducing her to it was completely addictive. From the way she shivered under his hand to the flush in her silky skin. From the sounds she made to the wonder of discovery as she looked at him.
It was a discovery for him as well, he realised. It had been a long time since he’d been engaged in bed. He always gave his partners pleasure, but only in so far as it affected his own reputation. It was never about the woman in particular.
But now it was about this woman. He wanted to give her something she’d never had before—wanted to show her something new. He wanted her to look at him exactly the way she was looking at him now, as if she’d never seen anything or anyone so amazing in all her life.
The way no one, not even Anna, had ever looked at him.
You can’t give that up.
A dark, ferocious thing stretched out lazily inside him, flexing its claws.
Well, maybe he didn’t have to give it up. Why should he? She wanted him—that was obvious—and passion like hers didn’t stay sated. This needn’t be a one-off thing. He was planning on marrying her anyway, so why not make it a true marriage for a time?
Are you sure that’s a good idea? Look what happened last time with Anna.
Yes, but that had only been because those dangerous emotions of his had been involved, and they weren’t here. He didn’t love Leonie and she didn’t love him. He was simply taking advantage of their intense physical chemistry, nothing more.
She might not feel that way when you tell her you’ve known who she is all along.
Cristiano ignored that thought, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of her underwear, then sliding his fingers over her slick, wet flesh. She gave a little cry, pushing herself into his touch, her eyes darkening as her pupils dilated.
Satisfaction deepened inside him. He could have watched the pleasure rippling over her face for ever. ‘You like that,mi corazón? Do you like it when I stroke you here?’
He found the small, sensitive bud between her thighs and brushed the tip of his finger over and around it. She gasped, shivering.
‘And here?’
He shifted his hand, put his thumb where his finger had been, then slid that finger down through the slick folds of her sex to the entrance of her body, easing gently inside.
‘Do you like it when I touch you here?’
Her cheeks were deeply flushed and she moved restlessly, unable to keep still. ‘Yes...’ Her voice had become even more hoarse. ‘Oh, yes... Cristiano... I need...’
He could become addicted to hearing his name spoken like that...husky and soft and desperate. Just as he could become addicted to the silky, slippery feel of her flesh and the hot grip of her body around his finger. To the way she shook and gasped and arched. To the obvious pleasure she was feeling and didn’t hide.
His groin was aching, his own desire winding tight, and he wanted to be inside her with a desperation he hadn’t thought possible.
But he wanted to watch her come even more. So he eased his fingers in and out of her, adding more pressure and friction with his thumb until her eyes went wide and her mouth opened and her body convulsed.
She cried out in shocked pleasure as her climax hit, and he leaned down and kissed her, tasting that pleasure for himself.
Cristiano’s mouth on hers was so hot and so delicious she could hardly bear it. Waves of the most intense pleasure were shaking her, and all she could do was lie there and let them wash over her.
She’d told him the truth when she’d said she’d had no idea it would feel like this. She really hadn’t. Had the woman against that wall felt the same pleasure? Was it this that had made her cry out? Because, yes,nowshe understood. Now she got it completely.
When Cristiano had touched her she’d felt as if something was blooming inside her. A flower she’d thought had died, which had turned out to be only dormant, waiting for the sun, and now the sun was shining and she was opening up to it, revelling in it.
She hadn’t been afraid. His kiss had been hot but his hands gentle, and when a fit of modesty had overcome her when he’d taken her bra off he’d been very clear that he wanted to look at her. That he liked looking at her.
And so she’d let him. And the longer he’d looked, the more she’d wanted him to. Because she’d seen the effect she’d had on him, the heat burning in his eyes, and it had made her feel...beautiful. She’d never felt that before, nor ever been conscious of her own feminine power. Her ability to make him burn as much as he made her.
Then he’d touched her, and the world around her had turned to fire.
Perhaps she should be ashamed that she’d been so open with her responses. Perhaps she should have been more guarded. But the pleasure had been too intense, and she simply hadn’t been able to hide her feelings.
He’d touched her as if she wasn’t some dirty forgotten kid that he’d found on the streets of Paris. He’d touched her as if she was precious...as if she was worth something. He’d touched her as if he cared about her, and she realised that she wanted him to.
