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She was tumbling out of control, all of the familiar landmarks of her life disappearing under the weight of his skilled touch.
“You are irresistible,” he said, finally. “And I have no interest in trying to resist you, which puts us right here.” He moved his hips, so his arousal pressed to her core, and she gasped, the visceral, desperate need almost tearing her in two. It had been eons since she’d felt and acted like a woman.
“Alessio,” she groaned, trying so hard to grab hold of the threads of sense in her life, to remember who she was, and what mattered to her, butnothingmattered quite as much as the way he was making her feel, the promises his body was making that she was desperate to have fulfilled.
“You want this,” he said, his tongue flicking the base of her jaw again as her hands buried into his shirt.
How could she deny it?
“You want to feel me, all of me, to touch me, to know my lips on your body—all of your body—to be naked in my bed with me, don’t you,cara?”
Cara.So close to Carlotta but so different.
His words were like fine, silver threads, wrapping around her, tying her in knots, so her good intentions were shattered.
Always a supermodel.It wasn’t the fact he slept with beautiful, glamorous women that made Charlotte fight for a grip on reality, but the fact that he did this kind of thing all the time, and she definitely didnot, meaning she was so different to what he was used to. How could she possibly compare to the glamorous, sophisticated women he usually slept with? Even before Dashiell, she’d been relatively inexperienced with this stuff.
“I can’t—,”
“Can’t you?” His voice was hoarse, the challenge pulling at her, making reality seem silly and far away.
“I want—,”
“Yes, tell me what you want,” he growled, as his fingers pulled at the bottom of her shirt, freeing it from her jeans so bare skin touched bare skin and she jumped at the unexpected euphoria of that. Sparks of electricity jolted inside her.
“I’m not—you don’t understand—,”
“Do I need to understand?”
Did he? Did it matter that she hadn’t been with a guy in years? That she’d only really had one boyfriend before, and he’d been as unskilled and clumsy in bed as she had? With a man like Alessio, would that matter?
He was only here for a week—if he even lasted that long, which given the incendiary situation with his family, wasn’t a given. What if he left and they hadn’t explored this? What if she turned him away and lost the chance, forever, of knowing what this would feel like?
Desire was a fire, licking flames at her feet, pushing her towards wildness and impulsiveness.
“Come to my room,” his words were a command, a statement, a demand and she felt herself succumbing to them, aching to agree, to nod and go with him, but the pressures of a lifetime weren’t so easy to forget.
“I can’t.” He lifted his head, his eyes boring into hers with a look that turned her stomach and made her heart twist painfully. “I can’tnow,” she muttered, licking her lower lip, as if that could erase the heat from his kiss and return her to her normal self.
“You hide behind the phrase ‘I can’t’.”
“I’m not hiding,” she denied, tilting her chin defiantly. “But I have a job to do, and a child I’m raising, and a whole life here that matters to me, that I can’t just walk away from because you’ve waltzed into the kitchens and—and—kissed me until I can’t think straight,” she finished with chagrin, blinking away so she didn’t see the look of amusement that lightened his handsome face.
“Ifwe’re going to do this, it has to be in a way that works for me.”
“It will work for you.”
“I don’t mean that,” she muttered, her insides swirling with heated anticipation. “You have to respect my boundaries. You’re on holiday,” she said, frowning, because that wasn’t exactly the right way to describe his reason for visiting. “But this is my life, and I have responsibilities—,”
“Yes,” he agreed quietly, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t get upset. I like it much better when you’re feverish for a different reason.”
Heat flushed her cheeks.
“Tell me when, then.”
He was respecting her boundaries, just as she’d asked, putting the ball back in her court. She felt a glow of something inside of her, but it was edged out by nerves. Was she really going to do this? And how could she not?
“Dash is sleeping at a friend’s tonight. Why don’t you…come over after I finish work.”
