He pushed the edge of her nightdress down to bare one breast, and Fran found herself arching towards him. Wanting the touch of his hands, his mouth.
As if he could read her mind, he traced a path of kisses from her collarbone downwards; and when he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked, she gasped, pushing her fingers into his hair to urge him on.
His tongue flicked against the hard peak, teasing her and inciting her.
And, lord, she wanted more. Wanted him to touch her much more intimately. Wanted to feel his body inside hers. ‘Gio,’ she breathed. ‘Please.’
He stopped. ‘Tell me to stop. Tell me to leave,’ he said.
She opened her eyes again, but she couldn’t speak.
Didn’t want to speak.
‘Tell me to stop, Fran. Because my self-control’s starting to snap,’ he warned.
She remembered the way he’d kissed her at the party. The way he’d sang to her. The way she’d wanted to be in his arms, wanted to make love with him.
And in answer she slid her hand out of his hair, hooked a finger into the other strap of her nightdress and slid it down over her shoulder so her nightdress fell to her waist.
He dragged in a breath. ‘Fran, we’re about to hit the point of no return. So if you want me to stop, you have to say so right now.’
She swallowed hard. ‘No.’
He took her hand and pressed the tip of his tongue against the pulse that beat madly in her wrist. ‘Fran, this really isn’t sensible.’
She knew that. ‘Right now, I don’t care.’ And, from the look on his face, neither did he.
‘It’s been driving me crazy, since I kissed you on your sofa. I’ve been having all sorts of fantasies about you and my desk. And then I saw you in that dress on Saturday. Kissed you against your front door.’ His breath hitched. ‘I wanted to carry you to bed and unwrap you. It was so hard to walk away from you that night.’
‘So why did you walk away?’ Not to mention staying well away from her for the last couple of days?
‘Because until I find what I’m looking for, I can’t make any promises.’
She was under no illusion that she was what he’d been looking for. Because if that were the case he would’ve realised by now, wouldn’t he?
‘And I don’t want to lie to you,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
She rested her palm flat against his chest, over his heart. The beat was strong and slightly fast. ‘You’re not lying to me. And this is as true as it gets.’
‘I don’t do this sort of thing.’ He took her hand and pressed a kiss into it. ‘I don’t think you do, either.’
‘No. But since Saturday night I’ve had this picture in my head. Of October skies, bare trees silvered with frost under an ice-bright moon, and the heat of your body against mine.’
He hummed a few bars of the tune he’d sung to her on Saturday. ‘Me, too,’ he said softly. ‘So let’s do it. Let’s have our moondance.’
Fran wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Or how. Or when her nightdress disappeared—or the duvet, for that matter. But at last they were skin to skin. The contact they’d both been craving.
‘You’re beautiful,’ she said, sliding the flat of her palm across his shoulder. Perfect muscles. Not a weak couch potato, but not a pumped-up gym freak either. Just perfect. His pecs were equally well sculpted. She loved the sprinkle of hair on his chest—just enough to be sexy—and the way it arrowed down over his abdomen. His washboard-flat abdomen. ‘I’m going to paint you on the top of a latte.’
‘What, and scandalise all our customers?’ he teased.
In answer, she took his hand. Drew it to her mouth. Kissed the pad at the top of each finger. And then sucked the tip of his middle finger—hard.
His breath hissed. ‘Fran, you’ve just put the most X-rated picture in my head.’
She gave him a slow, sexy smile. ‘Which is exactly what you did to me when you taught me to make a latte.’
He frowned. ‘How?’
‘You used the word “spoon”.’
His mouth curved. ‘Oh, that. It’s a technical term for putting froth on top of coffee. Also an item of cutlery that comes in different sizes.’
She folded her arms across her breasts. ‘You’re telling me you don’t know another definition?’
Gently, he unfolded her arms. Bent down to drop a kiss on each nipple. ‘Oh, I do. A rather nice one. Lying curled round your body. Something like…’ He shifted on to his side, moving her with him and wrapping one arm around her body to pull her back against him. ‘Like this.’ He splayed his hand against her ribcage. ‘Almost.’ He stroked the soft undercurve of her breast, then cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her erect nipple. ‘Mmm. That’s better.’ His mouth grazed the curve of her shoulder. ‘Is this what you had in mind?’