Christ, she feels good like this.
Fits against me like she was meant to be there.
And the way she kisses—soft one second, bold the next—has my head spinning.
I never want to let go.
This woman is my kryptonite.
No… that’s not right.
Kryptonite makes Superman weak.
Chiara doesn’t make me weak.
She makes me feel unstoppable.
Like I could walk back onto the pitch right now and take down the whole bloody league by myself.
She’s my reason.
The thing that lights a fire in my chest and dares the world to try and stop me.
When we reach the bedroom, I finally set her down on the edge of the bed.
My hands move almost automatically to the little bow tied at the side of her dress.
“You won’t be needing this,” I murmur.
She shivers as my fingers tug the strings loose.
The dress slides open.
And for a second I forget how to breathe.
Holy hell.
It’s like Christmas morning all over again.
Beneath that flirty little dress Chiara’s wearing the naughtiest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Not a bra exactly—more like a delicate little camisole that hugs her curves just enough to make a man lose his mind.
And the panties?
Not simple.
Not innocent.
Soft elastic, and sheer lace wrapped around her hips in intricate little lines that make my brain short-circuit.
And the color?
Rovers blue.
“Bloody hell,” I breathe.
My gaze drifts over her slowly, taking everything in.
