“Yes?”
“Look at me.”
I spun around to face him in a smooth move, but too eager, and held out the record player, like it was about to explode. “It runs on batteries.” The sound of my voice was pathetic, almost like I was a young and naïve girl again, so eager to please the older, popular guy.
He tilted his head, studying me for a second. “You have a record you want to play?”
“Look in the nightstand, my side, third drawer.”
He leaned over, digging through a few things stashed in there. While he dug, I set the record player on top of the dresser.
Brando lifted up the record and handed it over. A few seconds later, a crackling sound, like a distant fire, danced with the melody of the rain, before the singer started to croon.
I shrugged and the fabric moved against me, making me more aware of my skin and how sensitive it had become. The light from the candles highlighted all of my curves and my nipples, which had puckered to stiff peaks underneath the gown. He noticed, his eyes almost burning through the material.
“I like his music. The party, all those songs Eva and Gabriel were playing, put me in the mood for more.”
“It goes well with the sound of the rain,” he said, starting to creep. He moved like a big cat, slow and aware of every muscle he possessed. It was the sort of natural confidence only the powerful possess, when it becomes a part of who they are.
My mind and body were not in touch. There was no conscious thoughts that told me I was moving until my back ran into the doorframe leading out to the veranda. The wind steered its vessel, and cool droplets of rain blew in through the open door, racing across my skin and gathering on the strands of my hair.
Once he had me cornered, he stared down at me for so long that I almost started to squirm. Having mercy, he ran his fingertips up and down my arms, a conductor to my skin, causing goosebumps to form. He took my hands and lifted my arms, shedding any layers that existed between us.
We kissed, slow and deep, his hands in my hair, until I started making noises that even his mouth couldn’t control. My breasts were pressed up against his chest, a teasing, intense friction, and my nipples caused a yearning in every sensitive spot.
I found the band of his boxer briefs, using my fingertips to circle his stomach. I wanted to see him naked so badly that if I could have, I would have torn his jeans off with my teeth. We were going slowly, but there was madness under the surface that refused to be patient.
“Rimuovili,” I pleaded, breath coming out in shaky breaths.
He directed my hands where to go, and in no time, I had him stripped down, his hot, smooth skin pressed up against mine.
“I can’t remember the last time your skin felt this warm—you’re the same temperature as the rain,” he whispered against my lips.
“Am I flushed?”
He kissed me even harder, moving me deeper onto the veranda. Droplets had started to collect in his hair, diamonds against onyx.
Against the house, my back against the wall, his hands slid with mine, palm against palm, up and down, until he entwined them, holding on tight. We were slick to the touch, almost oily from so much moisture.
“You’re burning up,” he said.
“I always do, for you.”
Our mouths came together again, even sweeter from the taste of rain and fresh air. It invaded his mouth, along with the lingering taste of beer.
The wind started to surge, its hand pushing the direction of the rain, and in that moment, I thought it was the perfect analogy for the two of us.
I moved when his eyes directed me to.Those eyes.
Lightning lit up his face for the briefest of moments, making him seem almost wicked, and the storm raged in his eyes. Thunder shook us a second later, as powerful as the guttural noises that came from his throat.
Never in my wildest dream did I ever believe this man—this feral male animal—could belong to me.
Perhaps I’d shared internal thoughts aloud, told him I thought he was a dream, an animal too wild for me.
“No, Ballerina Girl,” he said, licking a trail from my chin, down my throat, between my breasts, over my stomach and then back up. “Sei sempre stato proibito.”You’ve always been forbidden.“I’m only a man lusting after a bite of sweet fruit.”
He bit me, a sharp pinch against my breast, before he took my nipple in his mouth, making me rake him with my nails. He hissed, and then his touch became…more aggressive with the pain, and my body answered his silent command, begging for the give and take in return.
