actually wanted—
His fingers tightened, pinching her waist. She looked up in surprise but before she could speak his lips brushed hers again. Another soft, too brief—tantalising—caress. She got the smallest glimpse into his eyes before he bent to her again. His reserve crumbled as intensity flared. Her heart stopped at that flash of emotion.
When he kissed her that third time, he lingered. She lifted her chin, meeting him, her body instinctively yearning for him to stay. She wanted more—a real kiss. She wanted him to release the energy she sensed building within him and ease the need starting to ache within her. She wanted more of the magic she’d tasted in that first swift touch. She wanted more than disillusionment and emptiness and abandonment all over again. She just wanted more.
For the first time in her life, she really wanted it.
He didn’t disappoint her this time. He stayed. He held. He kissed. His lips moved from gentle, to more insistent, to finally demanding. As she acquiesced, parting her mouth, his demands grew greater still. His hands shifted, shaping her curves and then possessively pulling her closer. Her heart struck up again, sprinting to a frantic tempo—in shock. In passion. She wriggled her hands from where they’d been squashed between them and reached up to his shoulders so she could literally hang on as he bent her backwards and kissed her more thoroughly still.
Oh, he kissed her. Her eyes drifted shut as she focused on the pressure of his lips—the teasing pleasure. His kiss lightened and she gripped his shoulders more tightly, afraid he was about to pull away. But he kissed her again and again in a series that mimicked that first—softly stirring desire, building her frustration until she couldn’t control the small moan that escaped. Then he kissed her hard and long again. And he repeated the pattern—unpredictable, maddening. Delicious.
She’d never have expected Prince Antonio to be as playful. Or as skilled. But what did it matter when he made her feel like this?
She moaned in pleasure as he kissed her deeply again. It was as if all the empty places within her were being filled and heated and the sensation was so addictive. There was pure pleasure to be had in his arms. The kind she’d never experienced with anyone else.
Breathless, she wanted to say something, but couldn’t. She didn’t want to break the magic—uncaring of any consequences, of how crazy this had suddenly become. She just wanted to feel it—all of him—all of the gratification she could get. Instinctively she moved, circling her hips. His hand slid, pressing over the curve of her bottom and pulling her harder against the heat of his pelvis. Feeling how aroused he was made her melt all the more into his embrace.
His arms tightened around her but she didn’t resist as he walked her backwards and then pushed her back against the desk. She couldn’t remain standing anyway and she had no desire to stop. She only wanted more. Just here. Now. In this white-hot moment.
He shoved the files behind her to the floor with a sweep of his arm, pushed her back until she lay on the hard wood, and followed her down.
He kissed down the side of her neck, burying his mouth in that sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders. His hand slid beneath her light pyjama top. The sensation of skin on skin made her arch involuntarily. His hand was heavy, then light, teasing as he traced small circles over her abdomen, up to her ribs, then higher still. She shivered as he neared the hard peak of her breast. He lifted his head from hers, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. He didn’t look down as he lifted her top to expose her breasts. She felt the cool air, felt her nipples tighten more—until they were almost painful. She licked her dried lips as she waited, splayed on the desk beneath him, until he looked down at her partially naked body.
A groan ripped from him when he finally looked. She looked down too, saw how her breasts thrust up towards him, her nipples tight and needy and erect—begging for more than his visual attention. They wanted touch. He muttered something unintelligible. Before she could ask him what he’d said he bent his head and took her nipple in the hot cavern of his mouth. Her breathing came quick and erratic as she watched him take pleasure in her body—in pleasuring her.
She closed her eyes, sprawled back on the desk, basking in the sensations as he explored her more fully. He pushed between her legs, grinding against her, and cupped her other breast in his hand, his fingers teasing that taut peak. When he pushed her full breasts together to lave both nipples with his tongue, she almost arched off the wood completely. All her restraints were now off, her need unleashed. She bucked, thrusting her hips against his, wanting him to strip her, touch her and kiss her where she was hot and wet and so, so ready.
Never had she been ready for a man the way she was for him. Never had a man made her feel this aroused. The ache between her legs burned, her blood ran faster in a quickening beat of need. She reached out, wanting to explore him too. His skin was hot to the touch. His jaw bristled but it was so good as it gently abraded her tender skin. She raked her hands across his back, the heat of him burning through his sweatshirt.
His muscularity surprised her. He was only ever pictured in suits so she’d never have guessed he’d be this defined. Granite muscles like these meant he worked out—regularly and hard. She wanted to see them. Wanted to touch. But he pressed down, smothering her attempts to pull his sweatshirt up, distracting her from that goal by simply kissing her again and again and again while running his hands over her bared breasts with wicked skill.
And she couldn’t resist succumbing to the pleasure of it.
That it could be this man who pulled this feeling from her? This unadulterated lust. He left no room for regret or reason. There was only this, only now. His breathing roughened but he said nothing more. He kissed down her neck, then lower to tease with fiery touches across her quivering belly, then back up to her breasts. But his hand worked lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her flimsy short pyjama bottoms. She parted her legs further without thinking about it, aching for him to touch her there. He growled guttural approval as his fingers cupped her intimately. She shuddered at the intensity of desire that consumed her as he gently stroked. She was so close. The pleasure built so shockingly quickly. She’d never been so close with anyone.
‘Antonio...’ She breathed the quietest plea as she arched against him, right on the edge.
He froze, then glanced up to look into her eyes for a heartbeat. Dazed, she didn’t register his tormented expression. But then he pulled away from her, his face now utterly impassive.
‘You’re stopping?’ She gasped in disbelief. ‘Now?’
His lips twisted but he didn’t reply. Running his hand through his hair, he huffed out a harsh breath and stepped back from her.
Astonished, she stared, realising what he’d done. He’d done this to prove a petty point. And he’d proved it already. But it was also a punishment. He was putting her in her place in a humiliating show of power—he could have her any way he wanted, however he chose.
But now he chose not to.
That he’d use his sensual dominance over her this way was most especially cruel because she’d never felt anything like this. No man had made her want in this way and this one time she’d almost felt pure, sensual pleasure, it had been snatched from her. She swept her hand over her belly, as if she could press away the ache deep inside.
‘I don’t need you,’ she muttered angrily. So hurt. ‘I don’t need any man.’ She didn’t need any one.
He turned back, his gaze smouldering. Her legs were still splayed. She was so exposed, half-stripped and spread on her own damn desk for him to toy with but she refused to cover up and show how shamed
