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I can’t read him, and I’m about to turn away. I can only surmise he isn’t keen on my new look until his hand reaches up and touches my hair. His fingers pull at the brown curls as he traces the strands down the side of my face. As if satisfied my hair is real, he grabs the back of my head and pulls me to him. His mouth is on me, his tongue meeting mine, and he devours me as he clasps my head between his hands. His mouth is warm, his kiss urgent, and I wrap my arms around him, making sure he doesn’t pull away too soon. I’ve waited too long for this.
He breaks free. I want more.
“Why now?” I breathe, our arms still connected.
“I’ve wanted to so many times, but every time I looked at you, she was there. It was like she was taunting me, and I couldn’t shake it, but now…” He lets this hang. I pull him in closer and place my head against his.
“Now she’s gone,” I whisper. He rests his head against mine, a heat building between us.
“You better have keys to that door,” Gianni mutters, his lips finding their way across my forehead and down the side of my cheek. I tear my hands away from his body and pull my house keys from my pocket. Gianni takes the keys and almost pushes me toward the house. We break away as Gianni fumbles with the lock. Our temporary separation leaves me desperate.
Gianni pushes open the door as I dart inside and turn off the alarm while wriggling out of my jacket. Within seconds, the door is closed, my jacket is on the floor, and we’re back in each other’s arms. I run my fingers down his back, longing to feel the skin beneath his white shirt. I pull the shirt from his waistband, but he stops me, grabbing my wrists and stepping back.
My breath comes quickly. I search his face, panic-stricken this is some sort of mistake. But instead, he glares at me with such hunger I almost drop to my knees.
“I’ve waited too long for this, Chloe.” He sighs. “I’m not going to settle for a quick fuck in the doorway.” I nod, my breathing overtaking me. He takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen. I’m not sure why we’re here, but he seems to know what he’s doing.
Once inside, he takes me to the far side of the room. He places me in front of the built-in oven, his hands gripping my forearms.
“How good are you at following instructions?” His voice curls around this question, making me want his tongue back in my mouth.
“That depends,” I reply. My hands itch to touch him, but I refrain. Somehow, I know I’ll reap the benefits if I behave myself.
“On what?”
“On who’s asking.”
“I’m not asking you, Chloe. I’m telling you.” He steps back, letting go of my arms. I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
“Take off your shirt,” he instructs. I hesitate. This is nothing like I’ve ever done before.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, sensing my unease.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Then do as I say. Take off your shirt.” My fingers find the buttons and slowly undo them before shaking the shirt to the floor.
“Jeans next,” he insists. “Take them off.” I obey.
There’s a feeling working its way within me, and he’s responsible. He hasn’t even laid a finger on me yet, and I’m already putty in his hands. I tug my jeans down, a little undignified when I yank them over my feet. When they are in a pile on the floor with my shirt, I stand before him, wearing only my underwear. My bright pink bra and panties feel like a beacon. He regards me, his eyes poring over my body before he speaks.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He pushes himself from the island he’s leaning against and takes three strides toward me. My heart thumps in my chest. I’m overwhelmed with anticipation, his dominance driving me into a frenzy. He’s so close I can see his skin through his shirt, the flex of his muscles as he admires my body. My breathing is fast, my chest rising and falling rapidly, and my cleavage seems larger than it has ever felt before.
Gianni places his finger under my chin, tipping my head up. He blinks slowly before moving his hand down to my chest. He places his palm flat against my skin, his thumb so close to my breasts, only the edge of my bra keeping it at bay.
“You’re going to have to steady yourself, Chloe,” he says. “It’s going to be a long night.” The smokiness of his voice and what he’s telling me nearly blow me away. He’s right. I must get hold of myself, but how can I? Every word he says, every look he gives me has me quivering.
I breathe from deep within my stomach, trying hard to slow my racing pulse as he moves his eyes down to my chest, his hand still resting flat against me like a healer drawing sickness from deep within. Lost under his command, my breathing quiets, and my chest settles under the pressure and heat of his hand.
“Sei bellissima.” His tongue caresses the words, and I start to buckle, having only just regained some composure.
“Please, no Italian,” I whisper. I can’t stand him saying words I don’t understand, and his voice is ten times sexier, rolling consonants as if he’s dancing with each word, flirting with every sound that leaves his lips.
“No?” He seems shocked, but I’m struggling to keep my head, and his foreign tongue isn’t helping. “Then I’ll have to tell you in English.”
Good, yes, English I can cope with,I think as his hand moves from my chest and grasps the side of my face. His other hand joins it, and he holds my head and stares deep into my eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he purrs. I’m quickly reconsidering my decision. Maybe Italian is better than his silvery voice. His hands hold my head steady as he kisses me softly, his lips barely touching mine.
