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He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Her actions penetrated the heart of him. Sheknew. Recognised the chaoticwantin him that wouldn’t diminish. His undisguised need to be inside his wife. The chemistry he’d failed to deny between them. And here it was, demanding a place, a home, in their marriage.
‘Love me, Raffaele.’
In that moment, he let go.
Her head fell back against the leather headrest and he devoured her neck. Licked the crevices behind her ear and worked down. Sucking, biting, until he got to her half-open bodice, found the tops of her breasts.
‘You’re beautiful...’ His eyes caught and held the blazing brown of hers.
‘I need you, Raffaele,’ she said huskily, her mouth parted, gasping for him with a rawness he felt in the hardening swell of his body.
And she was calling for him to answer it. Their shared hunger. To release the emotions, the feelings, burning in his chest and let her taste them. Swallow them.
He roared and claimed her lips urgently, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth and ripping the dress from her body. His hands sought out her lace-covered breasts, pulled the lace down until his palms found her hardened peaked nipples and squeezed. He tilted his hips and pushed his throbbing length to her core.
Her small hands were on his belt, unbuckling him with swift fingers. She reached for the zip, pulled it down and reached inside.
‘Flora!’ He moaned her name fiercely as she took the velvet length of him in her hand and stroked him.
She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away from her mouth. ‘Sit down,’ she ordered, and he grappled with his own tongue.
She pushed her breasts against his still-clothed chest, pushing harder until their positions were reversed and she sat between his thighs, his erection hard and pulsing between them.
She moved and straddled him. He gripped her thighs as she lowered herself onto him. He stared into her eyes because he couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Because this familiarity between them—thisknowing—had always belonged to them, hadn’t it? From the very first night they’d met...
She sank down, filling herself with the thickness of him deep inside her. ‘Now...’ she breathed, and her hips rose, teasing his length at her entrance, and then pushed back down.
‘Flora...’ he said huskily, because the pressure was building inside him with every lift of her hips and...
He thrust up his hips and she braced herself with a hand on the car’s ceiling as she screamed his name. ‘Raffaele!’
She pushed down, and he thrust again, until their synchronised rhythm was frantic. Chaotic.
‘Harder!’ she gasped, panting her need into existence. The need that mirrored his own.
He gripped her hips. Thrust harder.
Her hand on his jaw tightened, refusing to let him look away. And he looked at her—saw her for what she was—and stared at her in awe. In amazement. Mesmerised by her wide eyes. Her gasping mouth. Her innocence. And he matched her thrust for thrust, arching his hips to allow her to take him deeper in a reverse image of the night they’d met.
A deep blush bloomed on her neck...her cheeks. He could feel the heat radiating from her. The hotness filling the air between them with humidity—trapping them both inside it. Inside the bubble of desire they hadn’t been able to deny the night they’d met in the shadows. And neither could they deny it now, in marriage and in the day’s light. In the real world where they would live. Together.
‘It’s your turn to come for me,piccolina.’ He pushed his hand between their joined bodies and applied pressure to her swollen nub. ‘Let go,’ he commanded, as she had him.
She clenched around him, squeezed, until they both roared their release into the air between them and let go together...
Breathing hard, she collapsed on top of him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He cupped the back of her head and held her against him. The realness of her. This mystical woman who’d appeared in his life and filled every moment with...magic.Opened the door to a world he’d never thought possible. Not possible for him. She wanted to drag him inside to a place where family lived.
‘I love you, Raffaele.’
His fingers loosened their grip on her.
The bubble popped.
Just as he had known it would.
Because this life was not his to claim. And neither was she.
He could lie. Whisper words of love. Convince her of the illusion of it the way his father had convinced his mother. He could keep her prisoner with his love. A love that would never come.
