His mouth was on hers, open, demanding and merciless. His hands were under her robe, hard and hot on her skin, cupping her bottom and lifting her into him. His erection pressed urgently against her belly, the masculine power surging against his closed fly, sent hot shudders of excitement racing through her.
She had had lovers before. Anticipating the moment, the first electric shimmer of desire, was always thrilling.
But never like this.
She was trembling, breathless, almost dizzy with need.
Draco said something, the words rushed and urgent. She couldn’t understand them; he spoke in the kind of elegant, upper-class Italian that was nothing like the Sicilian dialect she’d heard as a child, but she didn’t have to make sense of the words to know their meaning.
Draco wanted her.
Right now. Right here.
It was what she wanted, too.
He untied her robe, shoved it back on her shoulders. His hands swept over her, down her spine, kneading her hips, then rising up her torso to cup her breasts.
His thumbs moved over her nipples and a cry broke from her throat. Anna caught his black T-shirt in her fists and tugged it free of his jeans. She put her palms flat against his naked chest, and he groaned.
She answered his groan with one of her own.
The feel of his body!
His skin was hot, hair-roughened. He was all muscle, and when she ran her hands down his belly, to the jeans he wore low on his hips, her fingers marveled over the ridged, perfect abs.
“Draco,” she whispered.
He growled her name, pushed her robe away and it fell to her feet. The air felt cool on her overheated flesh; he bent his head, kissed her throat, the slope of one breast, drew its beaded tip deep into his mouth.
Anna cried out; her head fell back and a curl of flame swept from low in her belly directly to where Draco’s mouth worked its magic.
He raised his head, kissed her deeply, thrust his fingers into her hair and took her mouth again and again.
Now his hands were on her. All over her. His caresses were not gentle, but gentle wasn’t what she wanted.
Not now.
What she wanted was this. Draco’s lips at her throat. His fingers on her nipples. His denim-clad knee between her thighs.
And then his hand. Oh, his hand, cupping her. His fingers parting her.
“Hot,” he said thickly. “So hot and wet …”
She sobbed his name, felt her body weeping with hunger against his palm.
“Oh God, hurry!” she said. “Oh, hurry!”
He made a sound deep in his throat as he unzipped his fly. Anna pushed his hand aside, reached for his straining flesh. Her heart pounded as his erection sprang free. Her breath hissed as she closed her fingers around the silk-over-steel power of his hardened flesh.
He was big. Incredibly big, and she gasped as she wrapped her hand around him.
“Anna,” he said, only that, but the single word was so filled with urgency that she rose on her toes and nipped at his bottom lip.
“Yes,” she said against his mouth, “please, please …”
It was the soft, desperate plea that was his final undoing.
Draco scooped her into his arms, swung around and pushed her back against the closed door. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He grunted and drove into her.