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Critically, she thought.

But not cruelly. He tugged her forward until she was standing on her feet and then he stepped back—but kept hold of her wrists, as if taking a sweeping survey of her entire body. He turned her around, in a slow sort of pirouette, and she could feel that gaze of his, that blue intensity, all over her skin.

Once again, she didn’t understand how he could do so little and make her feel so much.

She hadn’t known she could feel this much.

And the wildest part of all was that all they’d actually done so far was kiss.

Saviero set her back on the bed and then he came and stood between her legs, pushing her knees apart with those muscled thighs of his.

He looped his palm over the nape of her neck and pulled her head toward him, and she thought he intended to bring her mouth to his groin. This was a strange position for it, but maybe that was the point. And anyway, she was game. Cesca would love nothing more than to make him feel a few of the things she did—

But he didn’t push her head all the way down toward his zipper, as she thought he was going to do. Instead, she felt his fingers move through her hair, and realized that he was taking her hair out of those braids so it could flow down her back.

She was having trouble breathing because it was such an oddly touching act on his part and she didn’t know what to do with that. He was holding the weight of her head in his hands, so all she really had to do was go limp and let him do that, but she couldn’t seem to make herself do that.

“Francesca.” His voice was calm. But threaded through with that certainty of his, that in circumstances like these that made everything in her shudder. And maybe it wasn’t the circumstances at all. Maybe it was just him. “I’m going to need you to breathe. And relax.”

Cesca wanted to tell him all the reasons that was impossible, but he had not invited her to speak. And she wanted to be mad about that, but she wasn’t.

That meant she had no options but to do what he told her, so she tried to drag in a breath through her nose, deep into her chest, and then blow it out her mouth. It was okay, so she did it again. Then a few more times.

And at some point in there, she closed her eyes and stopped trying to hold her body up.

When he let out a low sort of hum of approval, she felt that hot, red flush take her over again. But no one could see, so she just…let it burn as it would.

And then everything seemed to turn golden and slow.

Saviero took his time taking her hair out of those braids that had been strong enough to hold up a whole crown. And when her hair was down, he sat her up again and worked his fingers through the long, strawberry-blond waves with a fierce, intense kind of concentration.

It made her whole body go liquid and hot.

He played with her hair for a long, long while. Then he seemed entranced by her breasts, and he played with them, too. He bent down and fastened his mouth to one nipple, using his other hand to move her body into an arch, and she surrendered to that, too. Her head fell back, her back formed a bow, and he could do things with his mouth that should not have been possible.

Things she could hardly believe could make her feel the way she did, like he was lighting her on fire and making her want to keep burning.

She hurt herself gasping. She heard that hum in his voice when he replied.

And then his hand was between her thighs and everything seemed to speed up.

He played with her there, with his fingers big and surprisingly strong, like the rest of him. The feel of them against her most tender flesh made her breath hitch, and she didn’t know what to do as her hips rocked helplessly against his hand—

But Saviero didn’t seem to need her to do anything.

There was his mouth on one breast, then the other.

There were his fingers at her core, teasing her, learning her, and finally, as her hips bucked against him, sliding deep inside her.

And then everything began to shimmer. His mouth and his hand moved in concert, and she had the strangest notion that she was some kind of instrument. A violin, perhaps. Something that might make a pretty sound, but he was the one playing her—exactly as he liked.

Between the suction of his mouth and the scrape of his teeth and those blunt, ruthless fingers plunging deep inside her, she found herself beginning to shake.

Then Saviero twisted his hand around until his thumb found the hottest and neediest part of her with every thrust inside her, and everything imploded.

It was all heat and fire. There were constellations from unknown galaxies behind her eyes. And then there was a sound she’d never heard before in her own throat.

Maybe she cried out. Maybe she simply cried. She couldn’t tell.