Modern Romance November Books 1-4. Sharon Kendrick
muscles clamped themselves around him in a way which was shockingly new and exciting, making him dangerously close to coming straight away. He sucked in a raw breath, trying desperately to claw back control. Trying to concentrate on not giving in to his orgasm, rather than on the unbelievable fact that the housekeeper was a virgin. Or rather, she had been.
But stopping himself from coming was the hardest sexual test he’d ever set himself. Maybe it was her tightness which felt so delicious. Or the uninhibited way she was responding to him. She was a stranger to all the games usually played in the bedroom, he realised—and her naivety made her an unmatchable lover, because she was a natural. She hadn’t learnt any tricks or manoeuvres. The things she was doing she hadn’t done with any other man before and somehow that turned him on. He revelled in the way she squirmed those fleshy hips as he drove into her. The way she thrust her breast towards his lips, so that he could tease the pointing nipple with first his tongue and then his teeth. He sensed the change in her—the moment when her orgasm became inevitable—and he watched her closely, seeing her dark eyelashes flutter to a close. Triumph washed over him as she made that first disbelieving choke of pleasure and a rosy flush began to blossom over her breasts. And only when the last of her violent spasms had died away did he give in to his own need, unprepared for the power of what was happening to him. It felt like the first time, he thought dazedly. Or maybe the only time.
And then he fell asleep.
IT WAS STILL dark when Salvio awoke next morning—the illuminated dial of his wristwatch informing him it was just past six. He waited a moment until his eyes became adjusted to the shadows in the bedroom. In the heat of that frantic sexual encounter which had taken him almost by surprise last night, he hadn’t bothered to close the drapes and outside it was still dark—but then, sunrise came late to this part of the world in the depths of an English winter.
He glanced across at the sleeping woman beside him, sucking in a slow lungful of air as he tried to get his head around what had happened. Trying to justify the fact that he’d had sex with the innocent housekeeper, when deep down he knew there could be no justification. Yet she had wanted it, he reminded himself grimly. She had wanted it as much as him.
They had been intimate again during the night—several times, as it happened. His stretching leg had encountered the voluptuous softness of her warm flesh, making him instantly aroused. There had been a stack of questions he’d been meaning to ask, but somehow her touch had wiped them from his mind. The second time had been amazing—and so had the third. She was so easy to please. So grateful for the pleasure he gave her. He’d expected her to start bringing up tricky topics after orgasm number five, but his expectations hadn’t materialised. She hadn’t demanded to know if he had changed his mind about seeing her again, which was fortunate really, because he hadn’t. His eyes narrowed. He couldn’t. She was too sweet. Too naïve. She wouldn’t last a minute in his world and his own cynical nature would destroy all that naïve enthusiasm of hers in an instant.
Leaning over, he shook her bare shoulder—resisting the desire to slip his hand beneath the duvet and begin massaging one of those magnificent breasts.
‘Molly,’ he murmured. ‘Wake up. It’s morning.’
It was a shock for Molly to open her eyes and realise she was staring up at the magnificent chandelier which hung from the ceiling of the guest bedroom. In this faint light it twinkled like the fading stars outside the window and she forced herself to remember that in several hours’ time she would be attacking it with her feather duster, not lying beneath the priceless shards of crystal, with the warm body of a naked man beside her.
A shiver ran through her as she turned her head to look at Salvio, her heart punching out a violent beat as she realised what she’d done. She swallowed. What hadn’t she done? She had let him undress her and explore every inch of her body, with his tongue and his fingers and a whole lot more beside. When he’d been deep inside her body, she had choked out his name over and over again as he had awoken an appetite she hadn’t realised she possessed. Somehow he had waved a magic wand and turned her into someone she didn’t really recognise and she had gone from being inexperienced Molly Miller, to an eager woman who couldn’t get enough of him. Briefly she closed her eyes.
And she wasn’t going to regret a single second of it. Because you couldn’t turn the clock back—and even if you could, who would want to?
She yawned, stretching her arms above her head and registering the unfamiliar aching of her body. How many times had he made love to her? she wondered dazedly, as she recalled his seemingly insatiable appetite and her own eager response.
She forced herself to ask the question she didn’t really want to ask. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after six.’ There was a pause. His eyes became hooded. ‘Molly—’
‘Well, you’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ Her breezy interjection forestalled him because she’d guessed what he was about to say—the heaviness of his tone warning her that this was the Big Goodbye. And he didn’t need to. He had to go and she was okay with that. Why ruin everything by demanding more than he’d ever intended to give? She pinned an efficient smile to her lips. ‘You did say you wanted to get away early.’
He frowned, as if her response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but Molly knew there was only one way to deal with a situation like this, and that was by being sensible, the way she’d been all her life. She had to face facts, not mould them to suit her fantasies. She knew there could be no future between her and the billionaire tycoon because their lives were too different. Last night the boundaries had become blurred—but one night of bliss didn’t change the fundamentals, did it? She was employed as a housekeeper—and lying in an honoured guest’s bed was the very last place she should be.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ he growled.
She wondered where the rogue thought came from. The one which made her want to say, Not really, no. I wish you could take me with you wherever you’re going and make love to me the way you did last night.
But fortunately, the practical side of her character was the dominant one. As if Salvio De Gennaro would want to take her away with him! She tried to imagine cramming herself into that low-slung sports car—why, her weight would probably disable the suspension! ‘Why wouldn’t I be okay?’ she questioned breezily. ‘It was great. At least, I think it was.’ For the first time, a trace of insecurity crept into her voice as she looked at him with a question in her eyes.
‘Oh, it was more than “great”,’ he affirmed, reaching out to trace the tip of his finger over the quiver of her bottom lip. ‘In fact, it was so good that I want to do it all over again.’
Once again Molly felt her stomach clench with desire and a rush of heat tugged deep inside her. ‘But...’ she whispered as he moved closer.
‘But what, mia bedda?’
‘There isn’t...’ She swallowed. ‘There isn’t time.’
‘Says who?’
He slipped his hand between her legs. Molly wondered what had happened to the sensible part of her now. Forgotten, that was what. Banished by the first lazy stroke of his finger over her slick heat. ‘Salvio,’ she moaned, as his dark head moved down and his tongue found her nipple.
He lifted his head from her breast, dark eyes gleaming in the half-light. ‘You want me to stop?’
‘You know I don’t,’ she gasped.
‘So why don’t you show me what you would like?’
Maybe it was the knowledge that this was the last time which made her so adventurous, because Molly suddenly found her hand drifting over his taut belly to capture the rocky erection which was pressing so insistently against her thigh. ‘This,’ she said shakily. ‘This is what I want.’
‘And