He undid the button of her jeans, slid down the zip and eased them from her hips, down her thighs, as his hands skimmed her legs. He crouched on his knees before her and pressed his hot lips to her belly, then lower, his warm breaths gusting over her skin.
‘You are so beautiful...’ he murmured against her flesh as he kissed her at the juncture of his thighs. Moving her underwear aside, he let his tongue explore, gently toying with her, and she was frozen in pleasure till he stopped. The only sound in the room was her panting breaths.
He helped her out of her boots, her jeans. ‘On the bed,’ he said, his voice dark and rough.
She trembled at the need his words exposed, at the fact that she’d done this—moved such an implacable man. She lay down, the sheets cold and crisp underneath her.
Stefano shucked his own trousers, the rest of his clothes, till he stood perfect, naked and erect, in the soft glow of candlelight. The illumination etched the shadows of his muscles deeper, made them magnificently defined. She lay back, glorying in the masculine perfection of his hard, male body, admiring the work and dedication he must put into it. Into everything.
His dedication and attention now being directed towards her.
He joined her on the bed and pulled the sheets and thick down cover over them both. His hands skated under her top to stroke her skin and she shivered at the pleasure of his touch. A sweet ache built deep inside her.
Stefano unclipped her bra and his hand reached for her breast, stroking her nipple till it beaded. The sensation stung like an electric shock through her, between her legs. His muscular body was against hers, the crisp hair on his legs teasing her skin. His head dropped to her nipple, his tongue smooth and insistent as her flesh responded to his ministrations, her hands clawing into his back.
Stefano chuckled, then the sound was cut off as he wrapped his lips round her nipple and sucked, slipping a hand between her thighs. She was close. This man set her aflame. She might have once thought music was her only passion, that playing the violin was everything to her, but Stefano Moretti was fast turning into a dangerous obsession.
She shook under his ministrations, not wanting to tip over the glorious edge without him. ‘I need you...’
‘You have me,’ he murmured against her skin, and a rush of heat coursed inside her at the desire that once again roughened his voice. But he didn’t stop his insistent stroking of her overheated flesh.
‘Inside me.’
All of him stilled. ‘Whatever you want that is in my power to give you, Lucy, I will.’
His touch and his body might inflame her, but those words... They spoke of more than sex or infatuation. More than passion. They speared right to the heart of her, and she couldn’t think or even dream of what they might mean.
She held a secret, and now it almost felt like a betrayal not to tell him. Some might say it didn’t matter—that the violin had been in her family for over seventy-five years and why should she care where it had come from after all that time?
But to her honesty was everything. She’d seen how her father’s lack of it had eaten away and destroyed things. How Viktor’s cowardice had meant his having an affair rather than confronting the failure of their relationship. She always wanted the truth, even if it was brutal and hurt her, left her bleeding. Better that than living in blissful ignorance only to have life as you knew it pulled away from you at the last minute.
‘Where did you go?’
Stefano’s words dragged her out of those dark thoughts. She should say something, but his hands were stroking her again, drifting over her skin, and all she craved was to shut her eyes and give in to the sensation.
She reached up to his face and drew her thumb across his lips, gazed into his meltingly dark eyes that gleamed with flickers of gold in the light. ‘I’m right here.’
‘If you’re still coherent, I’m not doing my job.’ He grasped her top and bra and took them off in one go, tossing them on the floor. ‘That’s better. Now there’s nothing between us.’
But there was. He deserved more than this. But she didn’t know what to say when all she wanted was to lose herself in him again. ‘Please, Stefano.’
He reached down to his trousers on the floor. Grabbed protection. Sheathed himself, then settled over her.
‘You came prepared.’ She parted her legs, gloried in the feel of him notched between her thighs. Awaiting the pleasure that was so close, everything to come.
‘I always want you. It’s like an obsession.’
In that way their feelings were terrifyingly mutual, but there was something else which screamed of a desire for much more. Permanence.
Stefano dropped his mouth to hers, his kiss slick, hard and intent. As their tongues touched and she wrapped her arms tight around his body once more he slid into her. Her back arched at the pleasure of him deep inside her body. She was so close, even now. This man inflamed her, set her alight.
He moved and their bodies melded, the beautiful song of their lovemaking echoing round them in the small, intimate space. Lucy tightened her arms around his torso. Wrapped her legs round him. Glorying in the feel of his hard body against hers.
The way they moved together was pure instinct and an innate knowledge of each other’s desires. She didn’t want this night to end. That need chanted in her head as her body tightened, climbing higher and higher. The burn building inside her. Waiting for the brilliant snap of pleasure that he held just out of reach.
He murmured words—some in English, some in Italian. Gentle things about her beauty, words of encouragement, telling her how much pleasure she gave him. None of them pushed her off the delicious edge she walked, held in an endless fog of pleasure. Then there were more whispered words, ones she wasn’t sure he’d want her to hear, lost as they both were in the moment together.
‘How will I get enough of you?’