Their hands moved to reacquaint and she knew, oh she knew with a delicious clench of anticipation, that they were going to make love. He pressed his firm palm into her lower back and trailed his mouth down the side of her neck. She arched to offer herself, shivering when he grazed a sensitive spot. Her skin prickled with delight.
“Oh, Paolo.” She clutched her fingers in his hair, feeling as though she’d shake apart she needed him so badly. She had missed him.
“I have to touch you, Lauren. I love the way you feel.”
Her heart tripped as he spoke the l-word. The voice in the back of her mind waved another caution flag, but she ignored it. Her world had been absent of his life-giving caresses for too long.
He lifted his head and the hunger in his gaze nearly swallowed her whole. Her stomach dipped while a powerful zing of pure need struck that delicious spot where she was mashed against his fervent heat. Because it was him and he seemed to bring it out in her, she let instinct guide her and tilted her hips, seeking more pressure and a better, more acutely sensitive angle.
He growled something in Italian, but she drew him down to kiss her again while carefully backing toward the bed. He never stopped kissing her, the movement of his mouth wickedly hard in its power, tongue invading to pleasure and possess, as though he was trying to anchor her to him while she insistently drew him along as she flowed backward.#p#分页标题#e#
She melted onto the bed, pulling him onto her like a weighted blanket, squirming deliciously as he settled half over her.
He used his thigh as a weight to control her restless legs, almost as if he was trying to keep this from going too far too fast, but she was determined to let the wildness take them both. She longed to feel him losing control the way he had that night in Charleston. Her deepest, darkest needs had been met when he’d been as desperate for her as she’d been for him. It couldn’t happen fast enough for her.
She cupped his head and did her best to incite him, urging him to settle completely on her. When he kept his weight on his elbow, she used the space to arch and reach the zip of her dress.
Paolo helped her, but didn’t pull her sleeve down her shoulder, just cupped her breast through the loosened fabric and gently massaged, slowly driving her crazy. Her nipple ached for proper attention and she whimpered, covering his hand, conveying that she needed more pressure. He lightly bit at the nipple through the dress and she encouraged him with a whispered plea.
He groaned out another spate of Italian, something about trying to kill him, and kissed her with sudden raw passion, scattering her thoughts so she knew nothing but the heat of his leg on hers and the much anticipated stroke of his hand from her rib cage down past her hip, under her dress, up her thigh and then—
She raked her fingertips down his back then pulled his shirt free and sought the hot skin of his back. Her entire being went taut with expectancy, tingling under his trace of her underpants. With a small lift of her hips she encouraged him and he rewarded her by sliding his fingers beneath the lace. His knowing touch parted and pressed and slowly caressed as he gently worked his hand into intimate contact with her wet center.
She rocked her hips, hands moving mindlessly on his flexing back as she set the pace. He complied with her signals, lovingly stroking her into madness.
When the sweetness grew too sharp to bear, Lauren dug her nails into his spine. She tried to escape the pressure of his kiss to tell him. She wanted to strip and feel him push his thick penis inside her, but he used his stronger body and all-encompassing kiss to keep her exactly where she was, at the mercy of his unrelenting touch. He refused to let up on the lazy stroking and the cataclysm engulfed her before she could stop it, tumbling through her in an avalanche of thunderous pulses, sending quakes of pleasure echoing through her that were so deep she bit back a scream at the intensity of it.
Slowly she came back to herself. Paolo was kissing her very tenderly between her panting breaths. He extricated his hand from beneath her skirt and she tried to roll into him, sensitized to everything about him: the extreme tension gripping him, the erection thrusting imperiously against her thigh, the blood pounding hard in his throat as she moved her hands to cradle his jaw and tried to bring his mouth to hers.
“Tesoro,” he murmured, roaming his lips over her face. “You have to marry me. You know that, si?”
Delicious lassitude gripped her, but so did a desire to bring him the same pleasure he’d just given her. Marry and do this for the rest of their lives?
“Yes, of course,” she breathed. Her head felt heavy as she lifted to touch her lips to his and only grazed his chin.