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Their lips fused like a perfect, hot clay mould. Pressing, shaping, gliding and battling, she didn’t know where their lips started and sensation ended as the tension of the past few days exploded in a flurry of clutching limbs and exploring hands.
Alessio pressed closer, easily prying her knees apart and slotting himself between her thighs. His towel and her swimsuit were scant barriers as he unerringly found the heated place between her legs and pressed himself against it.
A hoarse cry left her throat.
Fingers that had been eagerly exploring his hard, smooth muscles dug into his flesh as desire spiked her blood. He groaned against her mouth, a staccato burst of words smashed into incoherence between them as one hand found her breast.
Mercilessly, he pinched her nipple, then soothed it with his fingers as his tongue delved deeper. Heat built and strained and threatened to burst with their climbing need.
When Alessio’s hand landed on her backside and used it to propel her even closer, her vision blurred. The edge of the cliff beckoned. All it required was friction of clothing, a thrust of clever fingers or—she shuddered at the very exhilarating thought—the tugging aside of inconvenient fabric, to experience the utter bliss of skin-on-skin contact in its most visceral form.
Giada passed these reckless but enticing thoughts through her brain and when the response was ayes, yes, yes, her fingers spiked into his hair, clinging on as he pushed her nearer the precipice.
‘Diu mio, Gigi,’he muttered hoarsely.
She flinched, the iced water of reality that was her sister’s name uttered into this space, this unique experience, yanking her back from the edge.
Giada pushed at his shoulders and when he stumbled one step back, she slapped her thighs shut, her breath puffing in desperate pants. Aware he was watching her, perhaps even puzzled by her reaction, Giada kept her gaze averted.
Sidestepping him, she hurried to the door of the sauna. And then, because the last thing she wanted or needed was for him to follow her, she paused. ‘Your world may be unconventional but even I know it’s a terrible idea to sleep with one’s potential boss. That...’ She clenched her belly, wondering why the words were painful to get out. ‘That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.’
The slightest hardening of his features was the only indication that he’d found her words objectionable. Lazily, he tugged off his towel and tossed it away, leaving snug trunks that left no doubt how affected he’d been by their encounter.
Still watching her, he sat down on the bench, then went one better andreclined, totally uncaring that his arousal was on full display.
‘Tell yourself that if it aids your pitiful little retreat,piccolo fiore. But we both know you’ll bloom for me again before long. Now go, you’re letting all the cold air in.’
She didn’t move, those words he’d said to her before the recklessness started ironically granting her the much-needed shot of confidence. She used them to straighten her spine, to let her gaze drift boldly over his body, deliberately lingering over his crotch.
‘You’ll survive a little cooling down. Looks like you need it. And no, I won’t be blooming for you again. I’ve had a taste. Once is enough, I assure you.’
She turned and strode off, her face burning when, a few steps later, his soft laughter reached her ears.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FIRSTBLOODTOHER.
Alessio begrudgingly handed her the rare prize of shattering his concentration when, hours after the sauna incident, he found himself staring into the middle distance, reliving those glorious few minutes.
He growled under his breath when his body eagerly responded to the recollection of her scent, her kiss, the noises she’d made. Of how eagerly her fingers had sunk into his body, and the way she’d rolled those supple hips against him.
He still didn’t understand her abrupt retreat. And something about what she’d said about putting professional distance between them didn’t ring true. Especially when she knew his way of doing business was unconventional at best.
A laugh escaped him.
To think the thief who still held his possession hostage would dare to lecture him on professional etiquette?
It was maddening. But...exhilarating.
He tossed his pen away and surged to his feet, his temper worsening when his gaze landed on the snow falling relentlessly outside the window. He’d flicked on one of the many TVs in the chalet an hour ago and swiftly turned it off when the forecast had predicted nothing but more snow.
On his desk were a dozen urgent situations requiring his attention. And yet, he couldn’t dwell on a single one, never mind attempt to resolve it, without the enigma of Gigi Parker rippling through his concentration like a stone dropped into a pond.
Alessio frowned, something irritating the back of his mind.
He was missing something. But what?
A chime erupted, deepening his frown.
