When She Fell for the Billionaire(8)

Or maybe he had just assumed she was in his league? Woman alone on holiday equals sexually adventurous woman? Let him think then that she was as sophisticated as his lovers. It would make her job easier.

“A very unfortunate oversight,” he murmured, “one I’ll need to rectify.”

“Wh-what?” Sabrina stepped back. Rectify? Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“I’ll give you diamonds, Sabrina.” His eyes sparked with little embers of heat.

“G-give me diamonds?” This man was playing havoc with her faculty of speech. “Y-you can’t.”

“Why not?” he shot back arrogantly.

“You don’t go around telling women you just met you’re going to give them diamonds.” It might be like handing out candy to someone as rich as him. “That’s creepy.”

His dark brows met.

Uh oh. Shouldn’t have called him creepy. Maybe it’s just an Italian billionaire thing–doling out diamonds to whoever caught their fancy.

His sudden bark of laughter, as if he was surprised to find her so amusing, goaded her into saying:

“And you’re not my l-lover,” she protested, but her body betrayed her. Parts of her were heating up, plumping and tingling at the thought.

“Not yet, cara, but I will be.” His deep, liquid voice was like a shot of dark, molten chocolate in her veins.

The echo of his laughter was still there on the small smile playing on his lips. Those full, sexy lips Sabrina wanted to sink her teeth into. Her breath stalled at how badly she longed to do it.

His eyes flicked over her breasts and Sabrina felt it like a caress. When he stepped nearer, she found she could not move her legs. She saw his head moving inexorably closer. A tiny inch before his lips met hers, he breathed a single word: “Yes?”

Shit, no, she thought, but her head bobbed up and down in assent like a marionette on a string, and she realized that what she actually meant was shit, no, this can’t be happening that a hot Italian man is going to be kissing me on the beach.

When his lips grazed hers, the first thing she felt was relief. At last he’s kissing me. Like on the rare occasions she had donned pantyhose and after a full day of wearing them and she got to remove them first thing when she got home–it was that kind of immediate, gut-level relief.

His lips brushed hers fleetingly, as if trying to learn their shape. Sabrina tilted her head more, offered them without protest. He was gentle but insistent, dropping butterfly kisses on the corners of her mouth, on the bow of her lips, and it made Sabrina want for more. Absently, she noted his hands had wrapped around her ribcage, under her breasts. When his thumbs grazed her nipples, she gasped and her bag fell like a sack of potatoes on the sand. Luca took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned. Or managed something quite close to it while he continued to kiss her senseless, the bold foray of his tongue making her ache sharply between her legs. She squirmed, trying to ease the discomfort, only to feel moisture.

He pulled back a bit, breaking contact and breathing heavily. Sabrina felt bereft. She stood on her toes and nipped his lower lip. He groaned into her mouth “we must stop,” even as he grasped her bottom and pulled her flush against him, giving Sabrina another deep, open-mouthed kiss.

The breeze whipped around them madly and the waves crashed and died on the shore with wild abandon. Sabrina was not in the water, but she was drowning right in his arms. When he lifted his head from hers, it was only her hands clasped to his shoulders that prevented her from collapsing on the sand.

“Be grateful the lifeguard is on duty,” he said thickly, his hand cupping her nape. “If it weren’t for our audience, I would have had you on your back in two seconds flat, your legs spread wide and my mouth between them.”

It took enormous self-restraint for her not to beg to do so anyway. Her hands fisted at her sides. Luca noticed them, and something wicked and sensual darkened his eyes to indigo.

“Meet me in the lobby at noon for lunch.” It was a command. Sabrina marveled at how cool and calm he sounded, but then her gaze dropped lower and her eyes skittered nervously away from the obvious sign he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed. “And cara, don’t be late.” His blue eyes flashed wickedly. “When I’m hungry, I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

He sauntered off, tall, elegant, and confident, and Sabrina stared at his retreating back for several seconds. When he was a mere distant speck on the horizon, she sagged to her haunches on the sand, clutching her bag close to her for dear life, her breathing harsh. If she let go, she feared she might be swept away like driftwood, bobbing on the waves, never to reach the safety of the shore once more.