swallowed. For someone who’d said she’d never done this before, she was holding her own. So the snacking could wait a while. There was something far more pressing to be done. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair, gathered a lock and ran his finger and thumb along the length of it. He tugged gently, straightening the curl at the bottom. When he let it go it bounced right back. ‘So you’re sure.’
A look of irritation crossed her face. ‘You know I am. You’re here, I’m here. End of conversation.’
He laughed inwardly. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to have been dreaming of this for too long. He watched her, waited and soon saw the slight nervousness steal into her eyes, despite her words. She’d taken a smidge of her lower lip between her teeth, he could see her biting hard on it. And she was staying very, very still—waiting.
He leaned forward and so slowly, so gently caught that lower lip between his own teeth. She gasped, freeing it so it was his. He sucked on it, let his tongue run over the swell of soft flesh. She opened for him completely—and they hurtled straight back into the red-hot kiss of earlier. Her hands lifted to his shoulders; he liked the feel of them, he liked the feel of her hips digging into him too. It was as if everywhere they touched the power surged, pulsing between them.
He broke free, determined to slow it down. ‘You don’t want to eat first?’
‘Can’t you just shut up and get on with it?’ She thrust against him again. ‘Anyone would think you’re stalling.’
He looked at the gleam in her eyes. The nerves had gone. She was enjoying being provocative now. And she wanted it fast. Too bad. She’d told him the truth earlier. She wasn’t a one-night-only girl. Not before now.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked bluntly. ‘Why do you want it to be over so quick?’ Did she want it done and then him leave inside the hour? Like some naughty fantasy that she could tell herself wasn’t really real?
Not happening. If she wanted it, then she was getting it—one whole night. And one night didn’t mean once only. And it certainly didn’t mean quick.
She didn’t answer, had fallen silent, breathless as she leaned her lower belly against him. He understood—even just that simple closeness turned him on too. He traced her collarbones with the tips of his fingers. Watched for the reaction. Yeah, there it was. The widening of her pupils and the increase in her breathing. Her response so quick, so gorgeous. Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
She turned her head but he didn’t take the mouth she offered. Instead he kissed her ear, let his tongue lightly trace the whorls, let his teeth gently bite on the soft lobe.
Then he kissed the skin just below—she shivered. Yes, she was sensitive there, vulnerable.
He liked to touch her where she was vulnerable.
The constraint fell from him. Too late to pull back now. Inside he knew it had always been too late—from the moment he’d seen her looking so crossly at him at the back of the warehouse he’d wanted her. And he was going to get what he wanted—now.
She moved restlessly. He saw the flicker in her eyes but he refused to kiss her again. Not yet—he needed to regain his control so he could play with her the way he wanted. He undid each button on her blouse, so slowly, until it fell open. He pushed it back on her shoulders, took in the pretty bra. White, floral lace. Very pretty—but the soft globes it encased were even prettier. He could see her lush nipples pressing against the lace and nearly groaned aloud.
He had to kiss her again, not her mouth—not yet—but the soft creamy column of her throat. He brushed his lips against it, felt her pulse beating beneath him, breathed in the subtle scent that he found so sexy. Her head fell back, giving him greater access to that sensitive area. He traversed down, seeking to anoint more of the sweet skin with his tongue, his lips, eventually crossing over her collarbones and to the rising slope of her breasts.
Her hands lifted to his waist, pulling on the belt loops of his jeans, trying to draw him closer. He refused to move. So she did. Rising to tiptoe, bumping against him. He smiled as he hit the lace edging of her bra.
‘Lorenzo.’ The need made her voice sound raw.
He slid his hands up her thighs, soothing the ache he knew she was feeling with the promise of that intimate caress. Soon. Very soon. He was so glad she was wearing a skirt.
‘Lorenzo, please.’ She swirled harder against him.
He felt her hands on his back, on his skin as she went beneath his tee shirt. He tensed. He couldn’t handle her touch just yet. He lifted his fingers higher against her, swept them across the front of her panties.
She jumped. Stepped back from him.
He froze.
She wasn’t looking at him. ‘Like the good little girl scout I am, I’m prepared,’ she gabbled, fumbling with her skirt. He watched narrow-eyed. Finally she pulled a condom out of her pocket with shaking fingers. But she dropped it as soon as she had it. She groaned with frustration.
He spared a quick glance down to where it had fallen and then stepped forward and slid his hand round the back of her neck, pulling her to him. ‘We don’t need it.’ He bent and resumed his savouring of her skin.
‘We don’t?’ She sounded startled.
He bit back the laugh—barely succeeded. ‘Not yet.’
‘No?’ She was panting now, her hips circling again, pushing into his in that way that was slowly driving him out of his mind.
He gripped her butt, stopped her. ‘No. Not yet.’
He was determined to have his slow discovery of her, but he’d give her a taste of what was to come. He kissed his way across her breast, moving up the gentle slope, finally taking the nub deep into his mouth, his tongue raking over the tip—pretty lace and all.
She cried out. He felt the satisfaction burning into him. Couldn’t resist sucking harder, letting her feel the edge of his teeth. She jerked, and he clutched her closer, stopping her from slipping to the floor.
Her hands clasped his shoulders. He lifted away from her so he could see into her eyes and tease the hell out of her. ‘You’re not that well prepared, are you?’
Looking dazed, confused, she said nothing.
‘Don’t you think we might need more than one?’ He straightened and set her right on her feet again, dug one hand into his back pocket and pulled out the stash he’d stuffed in there earlier. Holding his hand in front of her, he uncurled his fingers and half a dozen condoms scattered on the floor between them.
He caught her round the waist as he felt her soften. ‘Now stop trying to control me.’ He pushed her into the dining chair, and went down in front of her. Placed his palms on the inside of her knees and pushed them apart.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Maximising pleasure,’ he muttered, hands sliding up her thighs. ‘It’s like making wine, Sophy—producing the best takes time. Patience. A gentle touch.’
‘But I like to get things done.’
‘I
