“I’m serious, Carla. I don’t want you to regret this.”
“I’m not drunk,” she says, shuffling forward. “And I would never regret anything with you, Luca.”
My nostrils flare as I suck in another lungful of air and try to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. Carla winds her arms over my shoulders, lacing her fingers behind my neck. “Are you drunk?”
“Not even close.”
She smiles, her eyes moving from my eyes to my mouth. “Good.” Then, she pushes up onto her toes and kisses me. It’s a heady kiss, pulsing with the pent-up and simmering emotions of the night.
I spin her, backing her up until she’s pinned between my hips and the door to her flat. We kiss deeply, slowly, passionately, as if it isn’t daybreak and endless hours stretch before us.
I guess they do.
I pull her silky blouse over her head and she unfastens the button at the side of her mini skirt, letting it slide down her legs. She steps out of it, still wearing her sandals and lacy black undergarments—a thong I want to snap off her and a strapless bra.
“Gesú,” I mutter. Jesus, help me. I drag my hand up the center of her breasts, noting the way her pupils dilate. Her lips part and her eyes follow the trail of my fingers.
Then, her hands are on the button of my shorts. “Take your shirt off,” she demands and I acquiesce, pulling it off in one tug.
She kicks off her platform sandals and I grin at how much shorter she is without them, the top of her head grazing my chin.
“Come here, campionessa,” I mutter, lifting her easily.
She laughs and winds her legs around my hips as I carry her into her bedroom. My eyes dart around the space quickly, noting the light-yellow bedspread, the fluffy, white carpet with lemons splashed across it, and the clean, white furniture. She has a few framed photographs, a jewelry box, and a stack of paperbacks, but other than that, her room is cleaner, more uncluttered, than I expected. “I like your space.”
“Don’t get distracted, DiBlanco.”
I lay her down in the center of her bed and hover over her. She gazes up at me, wide-eyed, with her hair fanning around her head. “Never,” I promise, dropping my mouth to hers and sipping the sweetness she offers.
Her legs tug me closer, until I fall over her, careful to keep my weight from pressing her into the mattress. Her arms wind around my back, her hands flattening against my shoulder blades. I deepen our kiss, one hand curling around the base of her throat and tipping her chin to give me more access. I want her eyes, her expressions, her truth. Fuck, I want everything.
A small, crooked smile twists her lips. Playful, inviting, tempting as well.
“What am I going to do with you?”
She works a swallow and my hand flexes at the base of her throat. “Find out, DiBlanco.”
I huff out a laugh, drop my mouth to hers, and take everything she offers.
Our kiss has a bite to it and I relish it. Crave her. Weeks of pretending she doesn’t affect me, nights having to relieve myself in a cold fucking shower, dissipate in an instant.
Carla digs her heels into my lower back as she arches into me.
“Fuck.” I drag my mouth from hers to trail kisses along her jawline, down the column of her neck. I bite the top of one full breast before flicking my tongue over the nip.
She moans, her hand cupping the back of my head.
“Let me take this off,” I say, leaning back to pull her halfway up so I can unhook her bra. As soon as the lacy material falls away, her breasts, high and round and a perfect handful, fall forward.
I stare at them for a full heartbeat before I lay Carla back down, slower this time, and bend to take one dusty pink nipple in my mouth. Even her tits are sweet. This girl is going to fucking end me.
I lavish her breasts with all the attention they deserve, taking my time to taste and lick and nip. My hands grip the sides of her waist as I move lower and I’m amazed at the muscles that ripple under her skin. I shouldn’t be, given her training schedule, but when Carla contorts her body, it’s a work of art.
“Wait, what—” she laughs, staring at me in wonder as I settle myself between the apex of her thighs.
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want me to,” I tease, dragging my fingers over the seam of her thong.
She shudders from the contact and I imagine how wet she is for my fingers, my mouth, my cock. I make another pass, careful to keep my touch over the lace, as I wait for her to reply.
