Italian Mavericks: Expecting The Italian's Baby. Andie Brock
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lifted his head to look into her passion-glazed eyes, then he moved his hips against her. He watched her eyes darken in instant response, then slid his hand up and down the long smooth lines of her thigh. He heard her breath quicken before, with a muffled cry, she jumped into him, wrapping her long legs around his waist.
Raoul caught her, and brushed the hair from her face to expose one side of her neck before spreading his hands supportively under her bottom and kissing the smooth swanlike curve he had revealed. He began to carry her towards the staircase.
‘I never knew that anything could feel this good, this right.’
She didn’t know that she had voiced her thoughts out loud until his fingers slid around her jaw, forcing her face up to him.
‘Don’t stop!’
The fierce intentness of his dark stare did not soften as he gave a short, hard laugh. It was all he could do not to back her against the wall and take her there and then, but this was too good to hurry, much too good. ‘I have no intention of stopping, cara,’ he admitted thickly.
The need to define or analyse what was happening had passed. She tasted sweet as again he drove his tongue with sensual precision between her plump, parted lips.
Like a drowning man he kissed her as he walked with her in his arms towards the bedroom door.
Lara had a hazy impression of cool as he carried her across the room to the low platform bed set centre stage. But the pulse of need inside her left little room for anything else. It was a need she couldn’t explain even if she’d wanted to—all she wanted was him.
‘I want you so much it hurts.’
He growled a response in Italian, the urgency of that language making more sense to Lara than his words as he laid her down on the bed, sweeping the pillows out of the way as he did so.
He was above her, his face a dark blur as he lowered himself. The hard press of his arousal, as it ground into her belly for a moment before he rolled them both to one side, drew a low, feral-sounding groan from Lara’s lips. The erotic contact offered deep pleasure, but no release for the ache of her own arousal, the throbbing need between her legs.
As they lay thigh to thigh there was a tremor in the big hand he lifted to curve around her face, turning it up to him until their eyes caught. Hungrily he took in the details of her passion-flushed skin.
He felt something tighten in his chest as he stared into her luminous green eyes, which were glazed with passion; her plump lips were soft, trembling, almost vulnerable. His gaze remained locked on to hers as he kissed her cheeks, his warm breath moving over the downy softness until he found her mouth and possessed it before he levered himself away and began to rip off his clothes.
Watching him through half-closed eyes, Lara wondered if she ought to be undressing too. The question was academic, as her body was infiltrated by a heavy languor that seemed to pin her to the bed. She watched him, her breathing getting ragged, until finally he stood there naked, like a tall, aroused god.
Her breath caught, hot excitement flooded her body and a scalding wave of heat tinged her skin with a delicate pink. He was beautiful, and aroused—very aroused—a fact that was hard to escape!
Looking at his arousal made her very aware of her own. The idea of her hands framing him, her body holding him, made her ache in a way she had never experienced. He strode back to the bed and dropped down on his knees beside it.
‘I love your mouth.’ An expression of rapt fascination on her face, she reached up and trailed her fingers down his stubbled cheek.
Raoul caught her wrist; turning her hand palm up towards his mouth, he felt her shiver as he pressed a fierce, damp kiss to her wrist. He ran his fingers down the smooth skin of her shoulder, hooking the shoestring strap of her dress down as he did so. Then, sliding his finger under the folds of red silk that were cut to form a soft cowl neckline, he exposed one perfect breast. Raoul reached out, his touch almost reverent as he cupped the quivering mound, weighing it for a moment, then with a groan he bent his head.
The sensation of his mouth on her skin was a sharp, searing pleasure; her body arched in response. She barely registered him peeling the second strap from her shoulders as she held his dark head, her fingers deep in his thick hair.
When he lifted his head he looked at her with eyes that seemed to burn from within. The rigid control he exerted drew the skin taut across the bones of his face, emphasising the dramatic bone structure.
His kiss, when it came, was deep and plundering, the seething emotions inside her burning hotter as she kissed him back, making tiny mewling noises of pleasure in her throat as he came to lie beside her.
The first skin-to-skin contact as he pulled her against him made her gasp, her nerve endings quivering as her breasts were crushed against his chest.
She ran her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders, pulling back a little as she moved down his chest. His skin was warm, slightly damp, and, when she bent her head to taste, it was salty. She pulled herself half over him, running her hands over his body, getting bolder as she drew moans and gasps from him.
She bent her face to his belly and followed the line her finger had just traced with her tongue. ‘Mmm...’ Her murmur turned into a soft squeal as he tugged her dress down over her hips.
A couple of wriggles and a moment later she was lying there in just a pair of silky, French-cut pants. No longer lying on top of him, she was on her back, one leg anchored to the bed by his muscular, hair-roughened thigh.
Her nerve endings reacted to the brush of his eyes as they would his touch.
But then, the unexpected gentleness as he kissed her lips softly made her chest tighten with emotion.
She touched his face and whispered his name. Raoul’s nostrils flared as he bent his head, but this time the kiss was not soft. It was hard and demanding, bruising in its intensity. He kissed her as if he’d drain her, and everything he wanted to take, Lara wanted to give, and more.
Her fingertips dug into the golden skin of his back as they kissed, her body felt fluid and on fire, but when she felt his fingers slide under the lacy edge of her panties she tensed. Feeling his eyes on her face through her closed lids, she blinked them open.
‘Relax.’
She smiled faintly, then breathed a tremulous sigh that was lost in the moisture of his mouth.
She moved against his hand as he touched her through the silk, and closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation. Then as his fingers moved under the silk across the damp folds of sensitised skin Lara forgot to breathe, forgot her name; the pleasure was mindless and all-consuming. She dug her teeth into her lower lip as he slid her panties down her legs with what felt like tantalising slowness.
When he nudged her thighs with his knee she parted them with a sigh of relief.
‘I can’t stand it.’
Her agonised whisper drew a deep groan from Raoul, who caught her wrists onto the pillow either side of her face. His chest heaved as he lowered himself down, fighting the almost overwhelming compulsion to possess her fully in one thrust.
The strain of fighting himself showed in his glistening face as he entered her, the knowledge that he had never wanted a woman this much before locked away for another time.
Lara had been expecting some discomfort. What she hadn’t expected was to be overcome by a climax almost before her body had adjusted to the sensation of him inside her.
It rocked her as every muscle clenched around him. A low keening cry was wrenched from her throat, and the waves of intense, mind-blowing pleasure just went on and on. She was so focused on what was happening to her that she didn’t immediately realise it wasn’t happening for him. Before she could come back down to earth he was moving again, pushing deeper into her with each thrust.
Lara’s hips arched up to meet him, she could feel all of him and all of her, and the cell-deep awareness was almost painful,