For you to understand how important my work is to me.”
“I do now.” His voice was sandpaper-rough. “I am listening now, Angelina. Better late than never.”
Needing to protect, to possess her in a way he couldn’t even begin to articulate, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her. Passionate, infinite, it was a connection between them on an entirely different level than before, as if they were finally beginning to understand each other.
She slid her palm to his nape and kissed him back, the kiss turning hot and fiery. Needy. He moved his hand higher on her thigh, fingers tightening around the sleek, satiny skin he discovered. A primal heat consumed him, his body pulsing to life beneath her bottom. She shifted against him, a low moan leaving her throat.
“I want inside you,” he whispered. “Inside this sweet, hot body of yours. Until you feel nothing but me, cara.”
* * *
Blood roared in Angie’s head. Light exploded in her eyes. She blinked against the sudden onslaught. It took her several seconds to realize it was a photographer’s flash.
Lorenzo brushed a knuckle against her cheek, a wry twist to his mouth. “That must be our cue to leave.”
Her legs felt like spaghetti as he set her on her feet. He kept a firm hand on her waist as he guided her through the thick crowd, stopping to say good-night to Alexander before they exited into the cool night air.
Wrapped in a sensual haze, she curled her arms around herself as Lorenzo retrieved the car. The sports car was deposited purring at the sidewalk moments later. Lorenzo tucked her into the passenger seat, then took the wheel to drive them home.
Her pulse hummed, her blood fizzled amidst the cacophony of sirens and honking horns that was New York, all of it blanking in her head as her senses focused on the man beside her. His quiet intensity as he controlled the powerful car and the hand he kept on her bare thigh were all she could register.
When this does happen, one tame roll in that bed will not be enough.
Her pulse jolted faster, her cheeks heated with anticipation. Her head might be wary about them, but her body was not. It wanted to experience the hunger he had promised. To feel alive again in the way only Lorenzo could make her feel.
Finally they were home. Parking the car in the garage, he helped her out, ushered her into the lift that arrived in a whir of expensive machinery. Up they went to the penthouse, where she threw her purse on a chair, legs shaking. Walking to the bank of windows that looked out on the roughly drawn skyline of Manhattan, she took a deep breath, attempted to center herself.
The soft thud of her husband’s jacket hitting the chair reverberated through the room. The tread of his footsteps across the hardwood floor sent a quiver up her spine.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, setting his hands on her hips. “You make my heart stop in my chest.”
Her breath caught in her lungs. Frozen, paralyzed, she couldn’t move, her fears, her anticipation, blanketing her in a cloud of emotion. But this wasn’t about the past, she reminded herself, it was about the future. And right now, it felt like they had one. A bright, shining light she was terrified to touch.
She did it anyway. Twisting around in his arms, she took in the dark, sometimes brooding man who’d stolen her heart once and threatened to do it again. His eyes tracked her, hot and focused. Her stomach contracted. Lifting her hand, she traced the sexy stubble shadowing his jaw. It was too tempting not to touch. She pressed a kiss to the abrasive canvas, sliding over the hard line of his jaw, knowing him again.
He let her play, drink her fill. Then impatience won out as he slid his fingers into her hair, tilted her head back and closed his mouth over hers. Greedy, laced with sensual purpose, his carnal kiss telegraphed his intent to know all of her tonight. To erase the pain.
She curled her fingers into the thick muscles of his shoulders, opened to his stark demand. The slow, erotic strokes of his tongue against hers coiled the muscles in her abdomen tight, his dark, sensual taste filling her senses, seducing her with its rich male flavor.
Fingers digging into his shoulders, she hung on tight. Lorenzo slipped a hand lower to her bottom, shaping her against him. The hard thrust of his desire, a thick, pulsing heat beneath his trousers, pulled a low sound from the back of her throat. She pressed closer, drunk on the feel of him. He rocked against her, slid his steely heat against her most sensitive flesh, scoring her through the thin material of her dress. “Feel how much I want you,” he murmured against her mouth. “You make me crazy, Angelina.”
A shudder went through her, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. He backed her up against the windowsill, kneed her legs apart so he could stand between them. Supported by the wall, she welcomed the hot press of his flesh. Allowed him to tease her, play with her until she thought she might go up in flames.
Her hands moved to his belt, greedy, desperate for him. Yanking the leather free of the buckle, she undid it, unbuttoned his trousers and slid down the zipper. Pushing her hands inside his pants, she cupped the thick length of him in her palms.
Lorenzo cursed low and hard. Removed her hands from him. “Mi bellissima. You need warming up or I will hurt you.”
“No,” she said, trying to free her hands. “I need you inside me.”
“Sì.” Hard, uncompromising. He captured her hands, placed them palms-down on the sill. “Keep them there.”
Eyes on hers, he sank his fingers into the knot of his tie, pulled it loose and stripped it off. Tossing it on the floor, he reached for the top buttons of his shirt and pulled them free. Her heart thrummed the frantic beat of a bird trapped in a cage as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Reaching for her foot, he worked the delicate clasp of her shoe open, slid her foot out and tossed the stiletto aside. He did the same with the other. Setting his hands on her ankles, he trailed them up her calves to her knees. Pushed them apart with a deliberate, firm motion that had her sucking in a breath. “Lorenzo,” she breathed, feeling far too exposed.
He looked up at her, an implacable expression in his dark eyes. “Stay still.”
Oh, dear Lord. A shudder went through her. He pressed a kiss to the inside of both her knees, worked his way up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, caressing her with his mouth, the scrape of his teeth. She bit her lip, willing him on.
She was aching, pulsing for him by the time he got to where she wanted him. Ready to beg. Mouth dry, she watched as he pushed up her dress and tucked it beneath her hip, baring her lacy, black panties. A wisp of nothing—meant to seduce.
Hand on her thigh, he considered her. Bold. Focused. “You wore these for me?”
“Yes.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I thought you said you weren’t going to wear lingerie for me.”
“I said I wouldn’t greet you at the door wearing it.”
A play of laughter in those dark eyes. “Appreciate the distinction.”
Shifting his attention back to the job at hand, he lowered his head and caressed her through the silk with one long stroke of his tongue. Her knees buckled. Sinking back on her palms, she braced herself against the wood.
