“Giovanni,” she moaned.
“Say it like you mean it.” His expression was so stark and intensely masculine, it should have been intimidating, but his touch as he cupped her breast was reverent. He looked at her naked flesh, licked at her nipple, then blew softly. Her loins pulsed in reaction.
“Giovanni,” she said with all the yearning in her, tone ringing with plea and command.
He rewarded her with a delicate suction that had her tangling her fingers in his hair, arching up to offer more. She was going insane, she was so aroused, but he moved from one breast to the other and back until instinct drove her to slither herself more completely beneath him. Her body screamed for the weight of his. For his thighs between her own.
As they rearranged themselves, her skirt rode up, allowing her to bend her knees on either side of his hips.
He balanced on one elbow over her. “Tell me if I’m too heavy.”
“I like it.” She pulled his shirt from his waistband and slid her palms all over his back.
He had the torso of a power lifter, thick chest and shoulder muscles rippling under her touch. When her fingers grazed his left nipple, he sucked in a sharp breath.
She lifted her hand. “Hurt?”
“No,” he said on a jagged laugh. “It feels really good.”
She touched him again, watching his eyes drift shut as she very deliberately played her thumbs across his nipples. His breathing grew uneven and her own arousal intensified as she watched the way he was reacting.
He suddenly snapped his eyes open and dragged her hand to his shoulder. “I’m going to lose it if you keep that up. Ladies first.” He kissed her parted lips and settled his weight on her.
When she felt the pressure of his erection through their clothes against the juncture of her thighs, she tilted her hips to increase the pressure.
“What do you need?” He rolled onto his elbow and pressed the heat of his palm against her mound. “This?” He rocked his palm firmly.
“Yes,” she moaned in anguished relief. “Was I hurting you?”
“Quit asking that.” He nipped at the edge of her jaw. “The only thing that’s hurting me is that I can’t feel more of you.” He searched beneath her skirt for the waistband of her leggings and worked his hand inside, fingers cleverly getting into her underwear.
He watched her expression as he did. She bit her lip, shy, yet dying of anticipation. She never let men get this far. It had never felt right, but now she dearly wanted to know how it would feel.
One long touch parted the wet seam of her folds, intimate and lovely. He returned to the swollen bundle of nerves he’d only grazed, as if he’d known exactly what he was doing all along. One firm circle and such an exquisite streak of pleasure went through her, she clenched her eyes shut to savor it while a decadent groan filled her throat.
“Hurt?” he mocked with a hot chuckle of his breath against her cheek. He did it again.
She groaned again and met his kiss with a flagrant offer of her tongue while she rocked her hips to match the slow rhythm of his touch firming and gliding away, returning and easing, dipping lower and deeper, invading so that she clung to him with all her might, driven by sheer desire to cast off propriety and seek the pinnacle that suddenly loomed.
And there it was, quick and sweet and expansive, bathing her in a rush of tingles while her cries of satisfaction were muffled by his carnal kiss.
His touch stayed under her skirt, but eased to a proprietary hand on her belly while he let her break their kiss and catch her breath.
“You very nearly took me with you. That was incredibly sexy.” He circled the tip of his nose against her own, kissed her temple, then her cheekbone. Through her haze, she thought he might be shaking.
She wished he had climaxed with her. She’d never orgasmed with anyone else in the room and she felt incredibly vulnerable right now, having done it by his hand. Letting him draw that from her gave him a power over her that she didn’t know how to take back. He had broken down barriers in her before she fully understood how much protection they offered.
Even knowing that, however, latent desire throbbed in her blood. She was still aroused. She wanted more and the depth of want in her—for more of his touch, his kisses, and the pleasure he gave her—was genuinely painful. Her need for him felt as basic as breathing or eating. It was unsettling to become so carnal within the space of a few minutes.
“Now I want to go to the bedroom,” he informed her smokily, setting one short, suggestive kiss on her mouth.
Her lips clung to his and she felt obvious in her desire. As though he knew her better than she knew herself. As though a single feel-up on the sofa had turned her into a slave to the lure of his touch.
Which it had. Her legs barely worked and she wound up in his lap, kissing his jaw and neck as he bumped them down the hall into the master bedroom.
One lamp glowed next to a huge, low bed. The floor-to-ceiling drapes had been drawn shut, but judging by the two walls of them, the entire corner was nothing but glass overlooking the city.
He nodded for her to sit on the bed while he opened the drawer of the nightstand to withdraw condoms. “I don’t ejaculate, but I always wear one.”
She perched nervously and watched as he threw off his shirt and moved onto the mattress beside her. He dropped back and opened his fly, worked his pants off and pushed them to the floor. Then he stayed propped on his elbows, letting her look her fill.
She tracked her gaze from his alert expression to his powerful shoulders and flexed biceps to his flat abs. There was a distinct tan line above the band of his snug blue briefs. His erection pressed a line against it. Below that, his thighs were visibly different sizes, the right one thinner and amputated higher than the left. There was more scarring on the right one, too, and a nasty bruise.
“What happened?” she asked with concern, gently touching the blue-green smudge.
He glanced and dismissed it with, “I stumbled during gait therapy.”
“You can walk?”
“I can balance on crutches and one prosthetic leg while dragging the other. It’s not practical for daily life, but it keeps my good leg from atrophying and helps with other functions.” He settled onto his back, one arm curled behind his head to reveal the tuft of hair beneath. He angled his head to study her. “I’m regretting taking off your boots. I would love to see your foot right here while you unzipped it.” He patted the mattress next to his hip.
If he was feeling a fraction of the self-consciousness she was experiencing, there was no evidence of it. He radiated confidence and patience.
She stood, but she was so befuddled, her fingers couldn’t find the zipper on her skirt.
“Please don’t laugh at how awkward I am.” She turned the skirt. Her hair fell across her face, blinding her as she tried to work the catch free.