The Italian's Deal for I Do(46)

“Rocco?”

“Sì?” He lifted his head and focused on her shimmering stare, glistening with the remnants of her tears.

“When did this become real?”

His heart stuttered in his chest, then stopped completely, his tongue unable to form the words.

Her gaze darkened. “I’m not asking for promises. I just need to know that this, tonight, whatever it is, it’s real and not another of your games.”

That he could answer. He lifted her palm and pressed it against the pounding beat of his heart, echoing her words. “What do you think?”

Her pupils dilated until they were dark glowing orbs in a sea of blue. She slid a hand behind his neck, tangled it in his hair and brought his mouth down to hers. He nipped at the lush fullness of her lower lip, teased her with tiny pulls that telegraphed his impatience. She was equally impatient, tugging on his hair and demanding his full attention. He consumed her then, taking her mouth in a series of hot, openmouthed kisses that made up for every last minute of these interminably long past few weeks. He kissed her until he’d explored every centimeter, every angle, of her, learned every mystery of her irresistible heart-shaped mouth. And then he demanded more, because his need for her was insatiable.

They broke apart finally, breathing hard, eyes on each other. Olivia was the first to break the standoff, reaching for the top button of his shirt. His breath caught in his throat as her knuckles brushed against his bare skin. He’d had a lot of women undress him, had had a lot of women period. But he had never held his breath as they’d done so. Had never anticipated a touch so much he’d almost jumped out of his skin by the time she’d freed all the buttons and slid her hands up his bare abdomen.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life,” she murmured, tracing the ridges of his abs with her fingers. “And I’ve seen a few.”

“I’d rather not hear about your ex-lovers,” he growled. “I had one in my face tonight.”

“On shoots,” she reprimanded quietly. “Guillermo was my first and only lover.”

That burned a searing path through him. If he hadn’t hated the Venezuelan before, he did now. He didn’t want to think about any man’s hands on Olivia. Only his.

He dipped his shoulders as her fingers slid under the collar of his shirt and pushed it off. Thoughts about ex-lovers vanished as Olivia brought her mouth to his pecs and scored her lips and teeth across the width of him. When she had thoroughly tasted his skin, the ridges of his muscles that flexed beneath her touch, she brought her mouth to one of his nipples and teased it to erectness with soft, flicking motions of her tongue. He braced a hand against the window as she sucked it inside her mouth. Cristo. Helen of Troy had nothing on her.

She transferred her attention to his other nipple. He closed his eyes and let himself feel. Feel what this woman did to him, because he rarely, if ever, relinquished control in anything he did, but with her it was impossible not to.

“The photo Alessandra took of you,” he rasped, a spasm of pleasure shaking him as she drew his nipple deeper inside her mouth. “That better have been me in your head.”

She looked up at him, dragging her fingertips over his hard, burning nipples. “You made sure it was... Did you like it?”

“Like is an understatement.”

He reached down, slid his arm beneath the curve of her hip and swung her up into his arms. She fit perfectly there, as if she was made for him. It intensified the skittery, antsy feeling he’d been experiencing all night. Dangerous, his senses told him. But tonight he wasn’t listening to his head. Wasn’t focusing on anything but slaking his lust until there was none left.

He carried her into the penthouse and into the bedroom, which had become a war zone between them, a symbol of their mutual antagonism. But not tonight. He set her down on the carpet and reached for his watch, his socks. Peeled them off with deliberate intent. Liv moved her hands to the straps of her dress.

“Nessuno.” His quiet command brought her head up. He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”

She walked toward him, myriad emotions in her blue eyes. Anticipation, definitely. Uncertainty... Maybe. She stopped inches from where he stood, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek. He ran the pad of his thumb across the generous sweep of her lower lip. “I haven’t forgotten what you started in the restaurant that night, Liv. Finish it.”

Her eyes widened. Hot color flamed her cheeks. He watched her mouth form words, but they never came. He wrapped his fingers around hers and brought them down to rest against the straining bulge beneath his trousers. “Sitting at that table that night, all I could picture was you touching me, cara.” His fingers tightened over hers. “I burned for it. I burn for you.”