‘Stella.’
In all her life no one had said her name like that. So resonant she felt it vibrate from his broad chest into her hands almost more than she heard it. Yet the sound was there too, rough and rumbly, utterly enticing.
Her head tilted back as she watched his mouth move, mesmerised. His lips were sculpted. She wondered if they were soft or hard.
‘I…’
Whatever she was going to say disappeared as her gaze locked on silver eyes under slashing black eyebrows. She saw surprise there. Awareness. Invitation.
Mouth dry, Stella swallowed and moistened her lip.
Something flashed in Gio’s eyes and she quivered, her knees so unsteady she grabbed his shirt to steady herself.
‘I want to kiss you, Stella.’
Yes! Please.
‘Okay.’
One sleek eyebrow quirked up as if in amusement but his stare was serious, so intent shefeltits weight as if he’d lifted a hand to stroke her cheeks, her lips, her throat and down to where her heart hammered.
Slowly, so slowly, he bent his head. She watched those burnished eyes come nearer, felt his breath on her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers and she sighed, sinking at the knees and clutching at his shoulders.
For from that first instant there was magic. The sort she’d hoped for in her teens. That had been banished by her history of ill-fated romance. Because of fumbling boys who’d viewed her as an outsider and therefore fair game. Then self-interested men who’d seen her as the key to a fortune, not a prize in herself.
Shock ran through her as Gio’s mouth cast a spell with its gentle caresses. There was sorcery in the slide of his tongue against hers. Enchantment in the way his body shielded her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other supporting her head as if she were incredibly precious. His long fingers cupped her skull as he angled his head to draw out the kiss into something beyond a meeting of mouths.
Something welled inside her. A craving for more. A sense of absolute rightness. A bone-deep sigh, as if she’d waited her whole life for this moment, this man.
Maybe she had.
Spellbound, Stella gave herself up to him, capitulation an exquisite hum in her blood. But she didn’t just take. She demanded too, pushing high against him as if to climb his powerful body. She delved further, her hunger acute as his honed musculature provided delicious friction against her breasts and belly.
Her hands dug into thick hair, cupping his skull and drawing it down, holding his mouth to hers as if fearing he’d stop.
He shifted, moving his legs wide and drawing her against his enticing heat. Excitement and arousal spiked as she shuffled to stand between his legs, his bunched thigh muscles testament to the power he possessed but leashed. For she knew that if she chose, she could break his hold and move away.
She didn’t want that. Stella wanted more, so that when she pressed closer and discovered the solid ridge of his erection against her belly it felt only right.
The tempo of their kiss altered, becoming heavy and almost languid but there was nothing languid about the hammer beat of her pulse or the drag of her lungs as she fought for air, not wanting to lift her mouth from his for a second.
In the end it wasn’t her choice. Gio lifted his head, straightening to his full height and gripping her arms when she would have pulled him back.
A searing breath into aching lungs, a flash of his storm-dark eyes and abruptly Stella was back on solid ground, physically and mentally.
His broad chest rose before her, proof that he, too, had been carried away.
Carried away as she’d been? His nostrils were flared as he dragged in air and his proud features seemed sharper, as if pared to the bone. But his eyes were unreadable, except that they were no longer silvery but a dark, enigmatic grey.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, his reddened lips. A rough pulse of possessiveness jerked inside her. She wanted his mouth on hers again. Wanted to kiss him until he groaned with pleasure and gripped her with those strong hands and gave her more than just a kiss.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Was he intimating there’d been something wrong with that kiss? Her forehead knotted. Surely he’d felt what she had.
But then she’d been disappointed many times before. What was it they said? A girl had to kiss a lot of frogs before she found a prince. She wasn’t after a prince, just someone genuine. What they’d just shared had felt genuine, but looking into those darkened eyes she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
She slipped from his grasp. ‘Don’t apologise for kissing me.’ She couldn’t bear that.
