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“I lost the other half when the Vespa hit a pothole on Michigan Avenue.”
It took him a full seven seconds to recover.
She covered her mouth like a naughty child, new color brightening her cheeks. She was embarrassed, but in that moment any doubts he’d had about her vanished.
Love couldn’t describe what he felt right now. More like ruination.
“You’re pretty confident,” he pushed out, trying to make light, impossible when his heart felt too full for his chest.
Brushing by him into the suite, she slipped a couple of condoms into his pocket. “Just a cock-eyed optimist. I figured after turning me down twice, third time’s the charm.”
That it was. He was the luckiest man alive.
“Lili,” he said, searching for the right words. “Grazie.”
She greeted that with an eyebrow jump. “Show me.”
Peeling off his shirt rendered him blind for a few precious seconds and when he found light again, she was walking away from him, pulling her dress up over her head. Strip-walking. Jesus, she was strip-walking and how she was able to get that hip-sway without heels was doing strange things to his brain.
She turned to present those mouthwatering breasts falling over lacy cups and generous curves filling out underwear that looked like shorts. Speaking of Busty Babes of B—
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, all humor drained from her face.
He tried to catch his breath. “You’re so gorgeous, Lili. Your skin, your breasts, your—”
“Are you just going to stand there talking about me all night?”
He could stand and look at her all day, but his dick wouldn’t be down with that plan. The rush of desire drowned out the thump of his heart. The suite he had thought too small ten minutes ago was suddenly too big and before she could react, he had hoisted her up so she was curled around his hips.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Jack, you shouldn’t—oh, God, I love how strong you are.”
He pushed through to the lamp-lit bedroom while she pressed her open mouth to his neck and sucked at his pulse, making his skin sizzle. Tossing her on the bed, he got another approving “oh” while he stood back to assess his options. So inviting, yet he had no idea where to start. He needed more hands, or better yet tentacles.
He needed to be Octo-Jack.
Forward momentum met unexpected resistance when she placed her foot flat against his stomach.
“Wait,” she said. Standing, she spread her hands over his chest, her touch cool on his scorching skin. “Let me look at you first.”
That was code for slow down. Slow was good. Slow was very good because he was ten miles past desperate here and if he didn’t ease up to at least five, he was going to make a fool of himself. Avidly, he watched the leisurely, but measured path her hands took.
“Do I make the grade?”
“Hmm, B plus.”
“I’m improving,” he said, remembering how she ranked his kissing technique that first night.
She slipped around to his back, the callused caress of her bra’s lace shooting tingles through him. Her hands appraised lovingly—over his drum-tight skin, circling his shoulder blades, his knotted muscles, trailing fire down to his hips. She ran her fingers to his stomach, tracing the hair above his navel, and it took all his strength not to push them down to his cock.
Crackling-hot kisses dripped down the ladder of his spine, sending every nerve into meltdown. He felt her sigh, a warm flutter as she placed her cheek against his back.
“Jack,” she whispered, scarcely audible above his serrated breathing.
“Yes, Lili?”
“What do you like?”
His skin prickled and his erection bulged hard against his zipper. He needed to free it, but the anticipation was so downright enjoyable and exquisitely painful.
