The Sicilian's Passion by Sharon Kendrick Read Free Book Online Page B

not want a history of her love-life, he just wanted a practical answer to his question.
    His eyes narrowed and he nodded almost thoughtfully as he withdrew a packet of condoms from his pocket, and Kate found herself wondering slightly wildly whether he was always so well prepared.
    She lay there watching him. She knew that she ought to feel some sense of shame at what was happening. What she was allowing to happen to them, but her only sensation was one of glorious expectation. Even when his mouth twisted in another faint, cynical smile as he eased the zip carefully over his erection.
    Wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue silken boxer shorts, he arrogantly kicked the trousers away from him and Kate heard herself gasping with unashamed pleasure as the boxers followed.
    Greedily she ran her eyes over his naked body, focusing on the gleaming olive skin and a tight, taut torso. His shoulderswere broad and his hips sensuously narrow, whilst the long, hard thighs were unbelievably lean and muscular.
    He saw her watching him, and he deliberately touched himself. Saw the way that her eyes dilated as he stroked his finger arrogantly along his aching hardness, provocatively sliding on the sheath and turning practicality into eroticism. And then she lifted one pale, smooth thigh in unconscious invitation, and he could play that particular game no longer. ‘You are wearing far too much, cara ,’ he told her softly as he climbed onto the bed next to her.
    On an instinct she bent her head forward and licked luxuriously at the Adam’s apple that curved at his throat, and felt him shudder beneath her tongue. ‘Am I?’ she whispered, transfixed by the hungry gleam in his eyes as he glittered a hungry gaze over her body.
    â€˜Much, much too much,’ he murmured, his accent deepening. He peeled the cashmere vest over her head and felt the pounding of his heart as he caught his first sight of her breasts. So full and so pale. Encased in virginal white lace. His mouth twisted at the irony of that, but his thoughts were banished by the need of his body.
    â€˜ Matri di Diu! ’ he muttered thickly, and dipped his head to her breast, unable to stop the quick flick of his tongue against the nub which strained so frantically through the delicate white lace.
    â€˜Oh!’ The pleasure of his touch was so intense that it was almost like pain. No, not pain—because if this was pain, then how to define pleasure, pure and sweet? Her head fell back helplessly against the pillow as he flicked his tongue again.
    â€˜You like that, don’t you, cara ?’ he enquired almost idly, watching the way that her hips moved against the bed in a frantic little circle, and the heat of his own longing almost made him lose his mind. ‘Don’t you?’ he repeated harshly.
    â€˜Yes!’
    He unclipped the bra and her breasts fell free, and once more he bent his head, taking the whole nipple greedilybetween his lips, and sucking on it hard, in an erotic imitation of the way she had sucked his thumb earlier, and Kate very nearly passed out with pleasure.
    â€˜Giovanni…’ Her head moved from side to side on the pillow, as if in denial. No, not denial. She could deny this man nothing. Not a thing.
    â€˜ Sí? ’ he whispered softly, but words failed her because he had moved his hand between her thighs and parted them.
    She licked her lips feverishly as he moved his middle finger inside her thong.
    And Giovanni’s breath escaped him on a long, almost helpless shudder as he felt the syrupy desire of her slicking against his skin, feeling her shudder beneath his touch, hearing her moan his name once more. Was she like this for every man? he wondered for one hot and fevered moment.
    He moved his finger experimentally against her. And again. And again. Her moans increased, and the sound of her helpless little cries made him grow even harder, almost unbearably so.
    â€˜I want you,’ she