perfectly visible beneath the lightweight pants… He could see, he could feel those legs around his waist as he moved inside her, and the image was so arousing even his fist—such a poor substitute for her sex—could get him off in under a couple of minutes.
He’d come so hard his knees had nearly buckled.
But as much as he’d imagined what it would be like to touch her, to kiss her, so enticing he’d gotten off on it, reality was a million times better.
Their mouths fit together like they’d been made for each other. Though she was much smaller than him, when he held her tightly, she automatically rose onto her toes and her sex rubbed against his cock. He unexpectedly started a swift slide toward climax, totally out of his control.
She dropped back down on her feet and pulled away from his kiss. He was instantly ashamed. Sex had rushed back into his life and he’d been so busy celebrating it he’d forgotten about the woman who was responsible. She didn’t look as if she was celebrating. She looked lost, pale, slightly shocked.
Well, of course. She obviously felt the tug as strongly as he did. But where he was rejoicing, she was frightened. She was a foreigner in a strange land. Palermo felt like a foreign country to him , an Italian. He could only imagine how it felt to this American woman.
They’d spent maybe half an hour in each other’s company and already he was kissing her, primed to enter her. She had all the hallmarks of a lady. This would be unknown terrain for Jamie.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d said his mother taught him manners. He winced to think what she’d say to a man who treated a woman the way he had Jamie. A woman who’d had to put up with being frisked to come see him and bring him a present.
Stefano stepped back. It was fucking hard to do, and that was the second biggest surprise of the evening. He had tons of willpower. His wife—who had been seeing her Freudian analyst twice a week for years—said he was all superego and no id.
Right now he was nothing but id. Raw, naked desire. All he wanted was to sink to the floor with this woman, rip off her clothes and enter her.
No.
He was better than this.
He’d stepped back but found it impossible to stop touching her. He compromised by taking her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Walking with her to the table.
“I asked—” His voice was hoarse. As if he hadn’t spoken in years. He cleared his throat. “I asked Francesco to set up the table in front of the window. I hope the breeze doesn’t bother you. It’s such a beautiful view I couldn’t resist. And I asked for the entire meal to be delivered at once. I didn’t want waiters trooping in and out all evening. I hope that’s all right with you.”
He watched her face carefully.
Okay. Color had come back into her face and she smiled, her first smile since entering the room. She felt better when he showed some restraint.
Christ, he was so ashamed of himself. He’d learned how to make a woman smile at fourteen. And here he was at thirty-six, having forgotten the art. Having lived exclusively in a world of hard men for the past three years was no excuse.
She squeezed his hand gently, let it go. He missed the warm connection immediately.
“It’s wonderful,” she said softly. Eyes closed, she drew in a deep breath. “The smells from the garden mingle with the smells of the food. It’s a heady mix.”
Startled, he drew in a deep breath himself. She was right. An intoxicating perfume of night jasmine and candle wax and glorious food, and the tang of the open bottle of the Ravizza estate wine breathing on the table…and something that was Jamie.
Smells. He hadn’t noticed smells in years. He’d been surrounded by the smells of paper and law books, gun oil, leather and sweat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed pleasant smells.
It was as if someone had cut off his nose when he’d landed in Palermo.
And his dick.
They were now both fully
He’d come so hard his knees had nearly buckled.
But as much as he’d imagined what it would be like to touch her, to kiss her, so enticing he’d gotten off on it, reality was a million times better.
Their mouths fit together like they’d been made for each other. Though she was much smaller than him, when he held her tightly, she automatically rose onto her toes and her sex rubbed against his cock. He unexpectedly started a swift slide toward climax, totally out of his control.
She dropped back down on her feet and pulled away from his kiss. He was instantly ashamed. Sex had rushed back into his life and he’d been so busy celebrating it he’d forgotten about the woman who was responsible. She didn’t look as if she was celebrating. She looked lost, pale, slightly shocked.
Well, of course. She obviously felt the tug as strongly as he did. But where he was rejoicing, she was frightened. She was a foreigner in a strange land. Palermo felt like a foreign country to him , an Italian. He could only imagine how it felt to this American woman.
They’d spent maybe half an hour in each other’s company and already he was kissing her, primed to enter her. She had all the hallmarks of a lady. This would be unknown terrain for Jamie.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d said his mother taught him manners. He winced to think what she’d say to a man who treated a woman the way he had Jamie. A woman who’d had to put up with being frisked to come see him and bring him a present.
Stefano stepped back. It was fucking hard to do, and that was the second biggest surprise of the evening. He had tons of willpower. His wife—who had been seeing her Freudian analyst twice a week for years—said he was all superego and no id.
Right now he was nothing but id. Raw, naked desire. All he wanted was to sink to the floor with this woman, rip off her clothes and enter her.
No.
He was better than this.
He’d stepped back but found it impossible to stop touching her. He compromised by taking her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Walking with her to the table.
“I asked—” His voice was hoarse. As if he hadn’t spoken in years. He cleared his throat. “I asked Francesco to set up the table in front of the window. I hope the breeze doesn’t bother you. It’s such a beautiful view I couldn’t resist. And I asked for the entire meal to be delivered at once. I didn’t want waiters trooping in and out all evening. I hope that’s all right with you.”
He watched her face carefully.
Okay. Color had come back into her face and she smiled, her first smile since entering the room. She felt better when he showed some restraint.
Christ, he was so ashamed of himself. He’d learned how to make a woman smile at fourteen. And here he was at thirty-six, having forgotten the art. Having lived exclusively in a world of hard men for the past three years was no excuse.
She squeezed his hand gently, let it go. He missed the warm connection immediately.
“It’s wonderful,” she said softly. Eyes closed, she drew in a deep breath. “The smells from the garden mingle with the smells of the food. It’s a heady mix.”
Startled, he drew in a deep breath himself. She was right. An intoxicating perfume of night jasmine and candle wax and glorious food, and the tang of the open bottle of the Ravizza estate wine breathing on the table…and something that was Jamie.
Smells. He hadn’t noticed smells in years. He’d been surrounded by the smells of paper and law books, gun oil, leather and sweat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed pleasant smells.
It was as if someone had cut off his nose when he’d landed in Palermo.
And his dick.
They were now both fully
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