Between the Italian's Sheets. Natalie Anderson
am going to take you back to my hotel and kiss you like that all over your body. Is that OK with you?’
‘Is your hotel far?’
He laughed, an uncontrolled shout of genuine amusement.
‘I’m serious. Can’t we just do this some more here?’ She didn’t want to wait. She wanted it all, right now.
He smiled, that wonderful warm, relaxed smile, and leaned over her again. The kiss was right back at hot. And then he was kissing her jaw, her throat, his hand was at her breast and she learnt him too, learning the boundaries with her touch—learning that with Luca there were no boundaries. The kisses and caresses were so intense and satisfying yet awakening such an appetite that she knew there would be no saying no. No tomorrow and no regrets. There was only now and a need so great it was overwhelming.
Through heavy eyes she saw the blue of the sky and the green of the branches above them, felt the heat of summer, and all her senses appreciated this paradise. And there was more to come; he promised so much more with every kiss. She shifted on the rug, restless. She’d never known how desire could be a sort of suffering, hadn’t felt this depth of longing for physical fulfilment. The pain of it and the way the body could absolutely overrule reason.
He groaned, as if he too were in pain, and as if he’d read her mind and knew how willing she was, how much she wanted. ‘I’d love to see you naked under these trees, but the Giardino is public. Unless spending the night with the carabinieri is on your list of tourist activities, then we need to leave. Now.’
She almost, almost didn’t care, caught between not wanting this moment to end and wanting to get to the end as fast as possible—to completion.
‘OK.’ She forced the answer; it was like dragging herself out of the warmest, sweetest water. And all she wanted to do was disappear into the depths again. Had he drugged her with that food? But, no, it was his body, and his touch, that were the opiate.
He rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Then come.’
Their eyes met for a pregnant moment. And then she smiled.
‘What about this?’ She gestured to the rumpled rug and scattered cushions and containers, not wanting to have to think about them, but years of taking responsibility insisted on it.
He shook his head. ‘It’s taken care of. Don’t worry.’
He took her hand and led her down the sloping gardens. Waiting at the gates was a sleek grey car. Luca held the door open for her and she slid in. He climbed in the back with her. The driver pulled away. It was only minutes to the centre of Verona and his hotel, but all of them were occupied as with light fingers he turned her head towards him and kissed her. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want him ever to stop.
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