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“And even now,” she continued thoughtfully. “When Dash goes to his grandparents, Winnie staffs the roster so I get a break. She calls it a ‘thank you’ for how hard I work year-round.” Charlotte’s lips pulled to the side. “Last year, I couldn’t help myself—I dipped into the kitchens over service, just to help out.”
Silence fell, warm and fuzzy, and Charlotte relaxed against the sofa, into the crook of his arm, aware of his smell, his closeness, of how good it felt.
“I like your tree.”
The statement came almost out of nowhere and brought a slow smile to her lips.
“I’m glad.” She turned to look at it, and of its own accord, her body moved closer to his, seeking nearness and warmth. “I do too. Even though you sort of have to shimmy your way around it.”
He reached down and caught her hand, lifting it towards his lips. “Are you still nervous?”
She hesitated a moment before angling her face towards his—an action that brought them so close they were almost touching.
“Yes,” she said after a beat. “But it’s a good kind of nervousness.”
“A good kind of nervousness,” he repeated. “Almost like excitement?”
She arched a single brow, proud she could keep a straight face when her insides were zipping like fireworks, but when she spoke, her voice shook a little. “Is an evaluation of my mood some kind of foreplay?”
He laughed quietly. “It’s more about me, being sure.”
“Sure that I’m sure?”
He nodded once.
She bit down on her lip. “I am. I know that’s strange, because we don’t—we just met—but I know I want this. I know I want you.”
His eyes flared wide, her boldness filling the room with the sort of confidence that made it impossible to ignore what was happening. The spark that had glowed between them from their first meeting had been humming all evening, an electrical current barely controlled, and now, it flared to life, fully and undeniably, brighter than either could hold, so when he touched her now, it was a live current, bolting from him to her.
She drew in a sharp breath as a thousand feelings rammed into her, new and different, urgent and vital, and she couldn’t have said if he pulled her or she pushed, but suddenly, she was leaning forward, and then, she was in his lap, his hands on her hips, his mouth seeking hers, and it was the kind of kiss that could stop time completely, a kiss that made everything seem new and over-bright. It was a kiss that changed everything Charlotte knew about the world and herself and for a moment, a single moment, put Alessio right at the center of all things. All that she was, all that she needed, was bound up in this kiss, this man, this moment.
His tongue flicked hers, slow and curious at first, and then, hungry and desperate, as his hands moved from her sides to her bottom, bringing her closer, so she shifted again, straddling him now, her tube dress unable to bear the strain so it lifted right up to the top of her legs, exposing so much of her that if she had been in a less feverish state, it might have occurred to Charlotte to feel embarrassed, but such pedestrian emotions were way beyond her. There was no embarrassment here, just the simple, biological exploration of a man and woman, touching and learning, kissing as though their bodies were being ravaged by fire and only sensual touch could ease it.
She arched her back, some ancient, primal part of her knowing exactly what to do and how to move. His hand pushed up her thigh, beneath her dress, and she trembled, not out of fear but from the strength of her need, which was shocking her central nervous system.
His hands didn’t stop. Broad, capable, determined, they pushed all the way up, so the dress lifted higher, over her bottom, her flat stomach, higher, to her breasts, where she held her breath and waited until he pushed it over her head and off her body altogether, and she wore only a bra and underpants—which suddenly felt like nothing altogether.
He made a low, growling sound, barely a word, and yet it was the best compliment she’d ever received. She glowed from the inside out, and the way he stared at her only underscored his genuine admiration.
He looked at her as though he wanted to eat her all up. He stared as though he was committing her to memory, inch by inch, and then, he made another of those delicious, masculine, growling noises and shifted, standing and carrying her easily, wrapped around his waist as though she weighed nothing, towards the two doors that came off the living room.
“Your room?” He grunted.
She pushed towards the half-open door, and he moved towards it with his long strides, motivated now by a need to possess her that was entirely mutual.
He didn’t turn on the light switch, but enough of a glow sliced into the room from the lounge for her to see him, and shewantedto see him, she realised, staring unashamedly as he removed his own shirt and tossed it to the foot of the bed, then brought his body back to hers, kissing her until stars glimmered against her eyelids. All the while, her hands roamed his back, his shoulders, feeling his flesh, his warmth, his strength, until it was more than she’d dreamed of and yet, not quite enough. There was a hunger in the pit of her stomach that was swirling almost out of control.
It was a hunger that was matched by Alessio, as his own hands mirrored hers, touching her bit by bit, removing all the fabric from her body, her bra, so he could rain kisses over her breasts, and feel them with his fingers, tormenting her nipples with his intense exploration, and then, her underpants, sliding them over far-too-sensitive legs and discarding them carelessly, far more interested in the silky hair at the apex of her thighs, in running his hands over that, too and, dear god, his lips, flicking her with his tongue until she was a puddle of lava in the middle of the room.
Just when she didn’t think she could bear it a moment longer, he moved his mouth higher, back to her stomach, and his hands returned their exploration, teasing the sensitive flesh between her legs, drawing invisible circles on her thighs at first and then, moving between her sex, parting her lips and feeling her, before one finger pressed inside, and she called his name into the room at the perfect, necessary invasion. He smiled against her shoulder, nipped her there with his teeth, then moved higher.
“You’re sure?” He nibbled the flesh at the base of her ear, and she cried out as pleasure ran like spikes through her blood, his finger swirling past clusters of cells that were so sensitive she almost couldn’t bear it.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes,” she turned her head so she could claim his mouth, her fervent passion taking over, her hands moving over him hungrily, pushing at his pants now, needing to see and feel more of him, and somewhere along the way, his hand moved from her sex, and she felt the desertion like a wave of ice wind.
But it was temporary. Alessio was echoing Charlotte’s movements, stripping his clothes easily, pants first and boxer shorts next, until he was completely naked, standing in her small bedroom, his head nearly touching the ceiling thanks to the old, low roof.
Charlotte could only stare, mouth open, heart racing, as he looked down at her, his erection so proud, so…big. Her mouth went dry and for a second, the basic biology of this escaped her. How would he possibly fit? All of her mad, crazy desire froze, morphing into something more like the panic she’d felt earlier in the night. He reached into his pants and withdrew his wallet, and from it, a string of condoms that spiralled desire back through her. She was all over the place, her emotions rioting, running from instinct and need, to overthinking panic in the blink of an eye. His weight on her body brought instincts back to the fore, his arousal between her legs making her push her thighs apart, silently inviting him in, never mind the fact that seemed like a physical impossibility.
