Yes! Yes! Yes!EffingYES!
He carried me up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and when the door closed, trapping the soft light in the room with us—it was that time in the evening when everything glows on an island, like neon—it seemed final.
We were locking the world out.
I needed it.
He did too.
His hands were in my hair, my mouth pressed to his, as he slow-walked me toward the bedroom. My hands came over his wrists, and when we parted, our eyes met. He was a mess—hair unruly, sweat and water dripping down his entire body, forming a puddle on the floor. My hair was sticking to me, my dress drenched, my feet in the puddle he was causing, and my heart—it was about to beat clear out of my chest to go for his. A touch I’d brave death to feel. My thumb stroked over his frantic pulse.
“No rules, Rocco Fausti,” I whispered. “Something moves us—” I swallowed hard “—wemove with it.Wemove together. You. Me. Nothing between us but the sheets.”
“We could explore other courses. We do not have to rush.”
“No,” I breathed. “The next course is the only course. I am your course. That’s why I ran from you. I’m offering my heart up to your starved heart.” I lifted my chin, offering him my neck, the pulse beating frantically.
He made an animistic noise in his throat, like his control had snapped, and in the next second, he hauled me up in his arms, carrying me toward the bed.
Only the two of us existed in the world we created together—both of us holding both lock and key.
Chapter 23
Lifeblood of a newly Roaring Heart
My back was to his front as he continued to explore my body. My eyes were closed, my heart demanding to absorb his touch, take it deeper than skin, where I’d keep it for the rest of my life and beyond. He sucked on my neck and I moaned, pushing my ass against his hardness again.
He turned me over, his eyes roaming to my breasts, before he started to suck my nipples, his teeth grazing. My hips bucked up as my uterus tightened. Even though I was sore, blood still on my thighs from our first time, my body couldn’t deny the pull to his.
In this, he ruled me.
My only king.
He kissed me long and deep, and I melted.
Forgot the time and place.
Remembered there was no world.
There was onlyus.
He made noises that came from deep inside of his chest.
He told me I’d awoke the near-starved lion in his heart, and I didn’t doubt it. I could hear it speaking to me in a language that was both poetic and ruthless.
He pulled back some and our tongues touched, swirled, before he started to kiss his way down my body.
It was the middle of the night, and we’d made love more times than I could count, but somehow, he kept bringing me back to the first time—a power I had a feeling he would employ every time he touched me. It was a feeling he initiated from the start inside of me—our love was ancient, but our touches were brand new. It was like hot and cold coming together, causing a physical reaction, and I trembled as he opened my legs and his eyes lowered to almost slits as he watched his fingers play me like amandolino, eliciting noises from me that I knew only he could.
My back arched and I pushed into the feeling of his fingers teasing me.
He spoke to me in Italian, his breath ragged, his tone rough. “Your pleasure is the most beautiful music to my heart, Amora.” He slipped his finger inside of me and I gasped, then made a deepmmmmmsound as he started to move it in and out of me. “Louder.”
I turned the volume up.
My voice was almost hoarse, even though I hadn’t been screaming, but this felt so good, it was causing a reaction inside of me that went much deeper. It was wreaking havoc on my emotions. Had sent them in a spiral that I knew would fundamentally change me come morning. Even though I was thirty years old, this man had turned me into a woman.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I almost chanted as he took my mouth and started to kiss me long and deep again.
