He was waiting for her at the door to his suite. She lifted her hand to knock and the door flew open. He grabbed her, dragged her into his arms, slammed the door shut and had his mouth on hers in less than five seconds. Not that she was counting.
As her mouth relaxed and opened under his, the tension she’d been feeling since he’d left released. She didn’t fool herself that it was because she was worried about him. That too, of course, but oh, the relief. In his arms she felt wanted, complete, all the things she’d almost forgotten about. He pressed against her so tightly he could only run his hands up and down her sides, skimming her breasts. His touch sent shivers through her, with shudders of need.
He lifted his mouth from hers and she whimpered. “Are you okay?”
“I am as long as you keep doing that.”
He touched his lips to her forehead, strung a line of kisses down her face. “I was sure you’d come, but I daren’t send you a message. I didn’t even know if you remembered the hotel you recommended that first day. When you didn’t come yesterday I nearly went out of my mind. I had to see you. If I’d come back to the café I’d put you in trouble, and I bet they have a line tap going. Even your cell phone. I couldn’t take the chance. But oh, Jesus, never do that to me again.”
“I won’t.” She could promise that with a clear conscience. She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his forehead. He took advantage, taking his kisses down to her throat. Moving away, he took her hand. “This isn’t what I’d planned, but I need you, Lina. Come to bed with me. Please.”
If he hadn’t planned it, she certainly had. She had until six. Five hours to enjoy him, to commit to memory what she couldn’t take with her. So the sooner they got naked, the better.
But he took time undressing her, stroking her skin and kissing her. So slow, watching her. He unhooked her bra and lowered the straps, smiling when he revealed her breasts, her nipples hard and sensitive. For him.
Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he bent and sucked one into his mouth, at the same time urging her back. She had to trust that he wouldn’t let her fall, but she didn’t hesitate. He’d backed them to the bed and she fell onto the soft mattress and crisp sheets. He fell with her, but supported himself on his forearms. He smiled down at her. “I missed you. Now we can really get busy. Space, a big tub next door and room service. How ’bout that?”
When she opened her mouth to answer him, he covered her mouth with his, and took her in a long, leisurely kiss. He explored her mouth, stroked his tongue against hers in an exquisitely soft caress, and swept his palm down her side again. She wore only her panties now, but he got rid of them in one firm stroke. She kicked them off one leg, and pushed her heel against the floor to give herself enough purchase to turn him. But only partially.
He’d answered the door dressed in jeans and polo top, and she wanted them off. Although she felt deliciously wicked, being naked while he was completely dressed, the lure of his strong body proved too much. While he touched, kissed, stroked her breasts and pinched her nipples, delivering nips and licks, she stripped him until her skin slid against his, a full-body caress.
Laughing, he dragged her to the edge of the bed and prised her legs apart. He kneeled up, one hand on her hip and the other reaching for the packet he’d left on the bedside table.
She followed his action with her gaze. “Expecting me?”
“Hoping, praying, more like. I haven’t left this room except to go down to the cash machine and the restaurant. You know how to keep a man on tenterhooks, don’t you?” When she would have explained, he touched a finger to her lips. “No. Later. I just want you.”
Words would wreck this, so she didn’t protest. Soon enough she’d have to leave, to tell him she’d decided to stay. But not now. Now belonged to them and she intended to enjoy every second of it.
She adored his strong body, the way he examined her with hands, gaze and eventually tongue. He kissed her breasts, strung kisses on the undersides and then took a nipple into his mouth, only to leave it and bestow another deep kiss on the other. She reached for him. Before she could grab his head and force him to suck hard, he’d left her to kiss farther down. He caressed her navel with a flick of his tongue and followed an imaginary line down to her pussy. She muttered for him, but forgot to speak English. He raised his head and she could have howled.
“What did you just say?”
“That I’m hungry, for you.”
“I mean the word. I like it.”
She smiled. “Allupato. It means hungry for sex.”
He licked his lips. “Oh, baby, am I ever starving.”
She shivered with need, her pussy going from damp to soaking in the time it took him to lower his head and take one long lick, from opening to clit.
She cried out and arched up, but he laid his hands on her thighs to steady her. He continued with his strong, long licks, as if enjoying an ice-cream cone. He growled against her, rumbled, the sound quivering against her, pushing her arousal up even more.
When he’d tasted every part of her vulva, he circled her clit with his tongue, as he had done to her nipples. Then without warning of his intent he sucked, deep. Waves of tingling chills rolled up her spine, like the tide coming in, preparing her for the deluge ahead. One she welcomed.
She clutched blindly, grasping handfuls of the sheet, needing something to hold on to. She went from crying his name to mindless keening. So much, nothing like she remembered before. She was lost in a sea of bewildered delight. But she trusted Jon to keep her safe, even while he drove her out of her mind.
While still sucking and licking, he scooped her thighs high. He urged her to drape them over his shoulders, changing the angle and leaving her wide open for him to do whatever he wanted to her. Then he touched her, and plunged one finger deep inside. She felt him inside her, tickling and exploring and then he hit her G-spot, a place nobody before him had ever found.
A second finger joined the first and the sucking changed to noisy slurping. She tightened her hold and experienced that moment of still, quiet calm just before the explosion hit. As if in the eye of the hurricane, then moving past it into the maelstrom.
Crying his name, bucking hard, she wasn’t sure how or when he withdrew to brace his hands on either side of her and plunge his cock deep inside. He met no resistance, and stroked past her G-spot with an accuracy that had her howling.
“Open your eyes.” That didn’t sound like him, more like a man driven to the point of no return, gruff and demanding. But she opened her eyes.
His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wild, the pupils huge, almost engulfing the bright blue irises. For her, all for her. He wanted her as much as she needed him. With a shock, she realized she didn’t know if he had donned the condom or not. She’d never, ever forgotten that, even in her worst times. Although she would have done, had there been a black market for rubbers. Not this time. What kind of fool did that make her?
He drew back. “What’s wrong?” Comprehension returned, his eyes regaining the sharp edge she was used to. “Ah. Yes, I did. I asked you to trust me.”
“I do.”
But he shook his head. “It’s okay.” He pushed deep until their pubic hair meshed. “I respect you too much to take chances.”
Was that it, or did he think to protect himself? She shoved the thought away, deep inside, but it wouldn’t go. “I’m fine. The nuns did tests and I—I haven’t had sex until you.”
He dropped a small kiss on her lips. “It’s for you. I want you to feel safe with me, even when I’m fucking you senseless. Say, what’s Italian for fucking?”
“Fotutto.”
He smiled. “Then let’s get fotutto-ing.” He plunged deep, and she lost the thread of what conversation they’d had. Her legs went up of their own volition. She curled them around his back, just above his buttocks. He growled and thrust again, finding her G-spot once more, driving her up to another sudden orgasm. She cried his name and held on. He hammered into her, giving her a series
of sharp, hard contractions. She felt more, a vibration deep inside her, near her heart, telling her there was more to come.
Opening her eyes again she caught him watching her, his gaze melting her, caressing her as if he was using his hands. He lifted one hand, supporting his upper body with the other, and touched her clit. Pinched and tweaked it. Then twisted, and she came apart.
Kneeling between her thighs, her legs wrapped possessively around him, he took her up until she wanted nothing more than this. That he never stopped, that he stopped, that he touched her gently, that he touched her harder. Just that he made her come.
Her body racked with convulsions, she forced her eyes to remain open and watched him. He flung his head back, his throat stretched taut and he swallowed before he froze and cried her name twice. His cock pulsed inside her, throbbed with the force of his orgasm and every muscle in his body tightened. He gripped her thighs once more. The bruises would remind her of this, and she knew she’d bruise. Perhaps she could get the marks tattooed, a permanent reminder of the way he’d made her existence take a seismic shift.
His chest heaving, he took a deep breath before he relaxed his grip and lowered his head to gaze down at her face. With his hair tousled, as it was in the mornings, his body sheened in sweat, she adored the way he looked. She’d never, ever forget it. Never wanted to. It would help her in the future, when she was without him.
“Hey,” he murmured. He scooped her up and flung her backward over the sheets, climbing onto the bed to join her. She went into his arms, their conjoined heat almost uncomfortable, even in the air-conditioned comfort of the hotel room. But she needed this, needed the closeness after they’d—what? Fucked, or made love? She knew which one she’d done, but she couldn’t, mustn’t ask.
He took her mouth in a luscious kiss, folding her close, making her feel needed in a way that was new to her. He held her just as close when he finished, drawing back just enough so he could talk to her, his minty breath feathering over her lips. “Are you okay?”
“Very okay.” She reached up, kissed him. “You’re a very talented man.”
“Thanks. But it’s down to you. You make me lose my mind.”
She laughed, a relaxed, gentle huff. “Don’t tell me it never happened to you before.”
“Okay, I won’t. Tell you, that is. Not yet, anyway.”
She caught her breath. Don’t go there. Instead she stretched up for another kiss. He gave it, and more, but pulled away. “I’m not the Energizer Bunny, though I wish I could be that way, for you. When did you last have a bath in a good, deep tub?”
She stared at him blankly. She couldn’t remember. After her life on the streets, the nuns only had showers and she’d never used the bath in her current apartment, preferring to shower. The stained tub had held no appeal for her. Then she laughed. “Okay, you got me. You make it sound like I’m back living on the streets.”
“Nope, just that nobody’s pampered you in a while. Let me do it now. You stay there, and I’ll come fetch you when it’s ready.”
She enjoyed the sight of his tight buns as he walked to the bathroom. Drowsily she listened to the faucets as they poured hot water. She was dozing when he returned and lifted her into his arms. Despite her laughing protests, he carried her to the bath. He’d found bubbles and, glory be, champagne. She raised a brow and pressed a kiss against his chest. “Cliché?”
“Sorry I can’t be more original. But hey, why mess with a good thing?”
He had a point. By some miracle he even had her favorite champagne, the orange label forming a pleasing contrast to the dark green bottle and the pristine ivory-colored porcelain.
He lowered her into the foamy water and quickly joined her, sitting with his back to the porcelain, cradling her body between his legs. She leaned against his chest, not caring that the ends of her hair dangled in the water. He sifted his fingers through the waves and natural ringlets, pushing her hair back from her forehead in slow, easy strokes that relaxed her to the point of idiocy. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Is this your real color?”
“No. I dyed it before I came here. It’s brighter naturally, but I can’t blend in easily with platinum blond hair.”
“I always assumed you colored it that way.”
She loved the way his voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her skin.
“Most people did. It was one thing that wasn’t fake about me. I had my lips injected every couple of months, and I was considering cosmetic surgery when—just before I left. A real member of the plastic generation.”
He cupped her breasts, stroked his thumbs over the tips. “Why would you want to mess with perfection?”
“Just for a change. I was unhappy with the way I looked. I don’t care these days, as long as I’m neat and clean.” She huffed a laugh. “It’s like I was someone else. In a way I was, I guess. Poor little rich girl.” Like anybody would ever believe that.
“Now you’re a rich little poor girl?” He frowned. “No, that’s not right.”
He reached over and poured the champagne one-handed, returning the bottle to the ice bucket afterward without spilling a drop. He gave her a glass, then took one himself, touching the rim of his glass to hers. “To the future.”
She glanced away. “The future.” They drank, kissed and drank again, then lay together in contented silence. When she’d emptied her glass, he took it and returned it to the tray to join his.
Then he rinsed her body, turning it into another sensual exploration. Ending at her pussy. He opened her labia with his fingers and stroked along the crease. He knew her body now, knew what she liked. He could make her purr like a kitten.
Gentle strokes turned to something with more purpose, and she let her legs fall open. She leaned her head against his chest. Murmuring soothing words, encouraging her to relax and let him do this to her, he insinuated a finger inside her. He stroked and found her clit with the pad of his thumb, teasing the knot of flesh into prickling awareness.
She sighed happily and concentrated on the sensations. Waves of heat rose inside her, heading to the inevitable conclusion. She gasped and clutched his arm, the one not working her, half turning so she could kiss him as she came. Heat rose, swelled, ebbed in a delicious waning, each tremor giving her a new thrill. He worked her body so well.
She’d more or less abandoned her sex life years ago, first addiction and then the process of just living taking away all her energy and desire, but Jon was bringing it all back to her. Gifting her with her own sensuality.
She nestled against him, happy to drift until he wanted her again. From the state of his cock, aroused and pressing hotly against her back, it wouldn’t take long. Perhaps she’d turn around and straddle his body, rediscover the way it felt to take control. She’d hardly ever done that before, but she wanted to now, to give him something back for the pleasure he’d given her.
He curved his arms around her waist, drew her hard against him. “I bought two tickets.”
“What?” Still drifting in a post-orgasmic haze, she followed him sluggishly.
“I have two plane tickets for tomorrow. Come with me, Lina. Come home.”
She froze. Her first, shocked response was a clear denial. “It’s not my home. It never was, not really.”
“I’ll make it home. I’ll make it work. It’s where you belong.” He paused and cleared his throat. “When your mother discovered I planned to fly here to find Byron, she came to see me.”
Bile rose in her throat. All this time, he’d planned this? “Why didn’t you tell me?” She pulled away, turned to face him. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub. She glared at him, refusing to believe it.
“Honey, your mom’s been crazy with worry. She married again, did you know?”
Lina shook her head. “No.” She’d turned away from anything that reminded her of her mother, kept well clear of the gossip magazines and anywhere else she might catch a glimpse of her. But a curl of curiosity made her wonder. “Who did she marry?”
“Ritchie Farina. You know him?”
She furrowed her brow in thought. “I’m not sure.”
“He owns the newsstands.”
Oh yes, Farina’s, the places that claimed to store or have access to every magazine anywhere in the world. “So she did well?” Farina wouldn’t be short of a dollar or two. Not that Lina cared.
“I guess. He seems to have settled her down.”
“My mother could party harder than anyone else I knew.” And drink a distillery’s worth of alcohol disguised with various fruit juices and pretty cocktail umbrellas.
“Not so many scenes.” His hold tightened when he felt her shudder. “They were that bad?”
“They were.” If Lina never saw her again, it might give her a chance to forget the scenes her mother created. One of her earliest memories involved a room full of shattered china and a lot of screaming. Vague now, but those details remained distinct in her mind, as if engraved there. And the other things she did, making Lina feel dirty, so that a used needle seemed clean by comparison.
His caresses aroused and soothed, something she hadn’t thought possible before she’d slept with him. “I never realized it was that bad. I assumed—everybody assumed—that you were two of a kind. Like mother, like daughter.” A note of concern colored his carefully controlled voice. “I know different now. Don’t I?”
She wanted to reassure him but she had to remember—they must separate. So any doubt might help him forget her once he’d returned home. She shrugged. “Maybe. It just seemed easier.” Easier than facing reality, that was for sure. “How’s my mother these days? She was never very maternal.”
“She seems to be now. When she found out I was coming over, she came to see me. Begged me to try to get in touch with you. She says she tried to trace you, but couldn’t get anywhere.”
Lina kept her voice neutral. “What did she say?”
“That she wants to make amends. She wants to see you again, wants you to come home.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, and lapped a few drops of moisture. She let him think her shiver was a response to that, but the thought of meeting her mother again sent chills through her. “I have a letter from her if you want to see it.”
Learning to Trust Page 8