She swayed slightly towards him, pressed the side of her face into his palm. ‘Valentino...?’
Her blue eyes were huge, shining with an age-old invitation that sent every ounce of blood in his body due south. Breathing felt like an effort, and it would have taken more strength than he possessed not to lean in and kiss her.
So he did.
Lightly. Gently. Just their mouths and his hand on her face connecting them.
And maybe he would have stopped so that they could eat the dinner he’d prepared, but after the slightest of hesitations she rose onto her toes, flattened herself against his chest and he was lost.
His hands moved to span her waist and curled beneath the fabric of her T-shirt to sweep up and down the smooth skin of her back. She whimpered. He groaned, angled his head, took the kiss deeper, his mouth hardening as the hunger inside him threatened to consume them both.
Her hands found his hair; his found her breasts. Those perfect round breasts.
‘Miller...’ Her name was a deep rasp and she wrenched her mouth from under his as his thumbs flicked across both nipples at once. She arched into his hands, her back curving like an archer’s bow, and he growled his appreciation, pushing her bra cups down to pluck at her velveteen flesh more firmly.
Her sensitivity and responsiveness completely undid him, and he lifted her and turned to place her on the stone bench.
‘Valentino.’
Her desire-laden sigh stalled him. He pulled in a tanker full of air and tried to steady himself as his eyes met hers. He flicked his tongue over his lips and saw her pupils dilate as she watched him.
Forking a hand through her thick waves, he forced her eyes up to his. ‘Miller, I want to be inside you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Tell me you want the same,’ he ordered gruffly.
He felt the thrill of desire race through her and her lips parted, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. ‘Yes. I feel...I want the same thing.’
Tino’s eyes grew heavy with fierce male triumph and his hands confidently moved to the waistband of the sweats she wore. ‘Lift up.’
He dragged the pants down her legs, admiring her red lace panties before they dropped to the floor. ‘God, I love your lingerie.’ He spread her thighs wide and pulled her forward until her bottom was balanced on the edge of the bench. ‘Take off the T-shirt and bra.’
She complied, and he leaned forward to capture one pointed nipple into his mouth. He suckled her. Bit down lightly. His hands steadied her hips as she jerked under the lash of his tongue. She was perfect.
‘Beautiful,’ he breathed. He switched his attention to her other breast, loving the feel of her fingers speared into his hair, holding his head hard, her small whimpers of arousal testing his self-control.
He felt her hips push against his restraining hold and knew she was seeking pressure at her core. Pressure he couldn’t wait to give her. He moved one hand between her legs and urged her thighs wider, opening her, his eyes momentarily closing as he revelled in the feel of his hand sliding through her curls and over her delicate folds. She was already wet and his middle finger slipped easily inside her. She made a sound like a sob, her hands clutching at him as he stroked her sweet spot with his thumb.
His erection jerked in an agony of wanting.
Soon, he promised himself. He curved his other hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her eager mouth back to his, adding another finger into her body and setting up a steady rhythm.
She groaned, a deep, keening sound, and ground herself against his hand. He felt the urgent lift of her body that signalled she was close to coming, but as much as he wanted to feel her orgasm gripping his fingers he wanted something else more.
‘Lean back on your elbows.’
He waited while she shifted the empty soup bowl out of her way and then he bent forward and nuzzled her, his tongue stroking and teasing the bundle of nerve endings at the top of her sex.
She bucked against him so hard she nearly dislodged him, and he wound his arms around her waist.
‘Damn, Miller, you taste so good.’
His husky words sent her over the edge and she came like a shot around his tongue. He nearly disgraced himself in his own kitchen.
Calling on every ounce of focus, he rode her orgasm with her. Then he stood, rose above her, pulled his T-shirt up over his head and shucked his jeans around his ankles. Her head was still thrown back on her shoulders, her breasts pushed high, her body open for his viewing pleasure. His eyes drank in the sheer beauty of her for all of two seconds and then he shifted closer, positioning himself between her splayed thighs before—