Without even realising it, he’d closed the gap between them. One more step and he’d be able to part her creamy thighs and slip between them...
Cara’s heart thumped so strongly she could hear it pound against her ribs.
‘I asked, what are you doing?’ How she managed to drag the words out, she didn’t know. Pepe was so close he’d sucked all the air from her lungs.
His large warm hand closed over hers and removed the mug, placing it on the table, out of her reach.
And then he was cupping her cheeks, forcing her to meet his stare. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’
‘No!’ It was more of a whimper than a refusal. She tried to wrench her face free from his clasp but his hold was too strong. And, somehow, too gentle.
‘Sì.’ He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. ‘Yes, cucciola mia. I am going to kiss you.’
She didn’t want to respond. God alone knew she didn’t want to respond.
Yet when his lips slanted onto hers and held there for long moments before prising her mouth apart, and when his thick tongue slipped into her mouth, the only word revolving around and around in her head was yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
The only answer her body gave was yes.
The hands she tried to ball into fists fought back, tracing up his bare biceps and clinging to his shoulders, her nails digging into the smooth flesh.
And still she tried to fight. Desperately she fought against the growing rip tide of need pulsating through her blood, fought against the moisture bubbling in her most intimate area.
But mostly she battled for her head, a fight she was so far from winning she...
His hand was cupping her breast.
When had that happened...?
It felt so...good. Wonderful. His touch...
But it wasn’t enough. The silk of the kimono was too restrictive.
Pepe must have read her mind because he slipped a hand beneath the thin material and spread it whole against a breast so sensitive, the relief of him finally touching it—touching her—made her gasp into his hot mouth.
And then she was kissing him back, her lips moving against his with no conscious thought, her tongue dancing against his, her whole body alive to his touch, the heat from his mouth and the taste of him.
Roughly he tugged her kimono apart, exposing her naked flesh. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush to him, crushing her breasts against his chest, crushing her mouth with an ever deepening kiss, his other hand trailing up her back, up the nape of her neck and then spearing her hair, gently tugging at it, before trailing back and reaching down to take her hand, which he placed on the front of his jeans. His fingers curled into hers as he pressed her hand tight to him. Even through the thick denim she could feel the length and weight of his erection. She could feel the heat emanating from him.
It was a heat her starved body revelled in.
Because it had been starving.
It had been starving for him.
He had brought her to life, given her an appetite she hadn’t known she had, and then he’d left her. Alone. And pregnant.