A week with the man who’d once been her husband.
Had they kissed like this when they’d been married? If so she wondered how she’d had the strength to walk away. It felt as if they’d been made for each other. As if they were yoked together by something so elemental it simply couldn’t be denied.
Large hands clamped her hips, lifting her up so she teetered on her toes and she welcomed it, grabbing him for support. He moved in, one thigh thrust between hers so she couldn’t fall.
Ally swallowed a soft, whimpering sound at the pressure of that solid thigh right there where she ached for him. She felt his hand on her bare leg, shoving her hemline higher, lifting the dress up so all that separated them was the light wool of his trouser leg and a scrap of red lace.
Angelo moved his leg, or maybe he lifted her against him. Either way, she felt the friction of lace and hard masculine muscle against that damp place between her thighs.
Lightning forked through the darkness behind her closed eyes. She juddered and would have gasped except Angelo swallowed the sound. He took her mouth with an insistent eroticism that turned their kiss into something new. Something that undid any last restraints her overloaded brain might have harboured.
Strong hands urged her up and she followed eagerly, pressing herself against his thigh, questing for more. If only she could get higher, to the source of all that wonderful masculine heat.
She dropped one hand from his shoulder, zeroing in on that rigid shaft of arousal.
Instantly Angelo stopped her. She thought he’d tug her grasping fingers away. But as she rose against him again, a low keening sound emerging from her throat, he froze, holding her hand against all that potent promise.
It was too much and nowhere near enough. Ally’s thoughts fogged, especially when he insinuated his other hand behind her, dragging her higher and closer. Until suddenly her hips were bucking in uncontrolled movements and fire burst in her veins.
Ally shuddered with it, hot and cold. Shattering in a bright explosion of colour and sensation such as she’d never known.
She screamed, but the only sound was a muffled echo as Angelo took her ecstatic cry into himself as he kissed her.
That kiss felt...tender. Intimate.
That undid something within her, leaving her wide open and wondering.
For a suspended moment Ally was on the world’s pinnacle, shimmering with delight. Then she fell, collapsing into nothingness.
It might have been a mere second later or long minutes, but when she came back to the real world she was in Angelo’s arms and she’d never felt so good. Her face was pressed against his soft jacket and unyielding chest. His scent, tangy and enticing, surrounded her and she felt the strong pulse of his heart beneath her ear.
It felt strange, cradled in a man’s arms. So strange she wondered if she’d ever experienced it before. Every nerve-ending tingled with delight at the feel of Angelo’s powerful arms holding her close.
Dimly she remembered she should be furious with him for his accusations. But Ally had no interest in anger, not given the indescribable, blistering joy she’d experienced. There’d be time later to talk sensibly. For now she wanted more of what she’d just had. She felt floaty with delight as if she’d never before experienced sexual pleasure.
‘What’s so funny?’
Intriguing how Angelo’s voice rumbled out from beneath her ear.
She shook her head, not wanting to get caught up explaining that this felt like an utterly new experience and it had blown her mind.
He studied her face, his eyes shining with something that made her already softened muscles turn to mush.
Angelo turned with her in his arms then lowered her to the bed, following her down. Ally’s brain atrophied as his long, athletic body covered hers. He nudged her knees apart and sank between them, his erection pressed intimately at the juncture of her legs and up her belly.
Were all men so big when aroused? Her heart fluttered as if in trepidation, yet at the same time her fingers gripped his backside, eagerly drawing him towards her as her pelvis tilted up.
Angelo murmured something low and heartfelt in Italian, then, before she could stop him, lifted himself away, supporting himself on hands and knees.
Their breaths mingled as their gazes locked. With his body blocking the lamplight, Ally couldn’t read his expression, but she sensed his taut control and read his heavy breathing.
‘You want me,’ she whispered, not sure if it was a challenge or an invitation.
‘I shouldn’t.’
‘Nor should I want you after the way you insult me.’
Did he stiffen? ‘But you do.’