Her stomach swooped and then dropped. “It’s impossible to crack, Lazzero. Some of the most talented kids at school never made it in.”
“They’re looking for people with vision. You have one.” He shook his head. “You don’t second-guess an opportunity like this. You embrace it. See where it goes. It may go somewhere. It may go nowhere. But at least you tried.”
She bit the inside of her mouth. She had only been dabbling at the drawing the past few years. What if she’d lost her technique? What if she didn’t have it anymore? And then there was the part where she’d never get another chance like this.
“It’s just a coffee,” Lazzero said quietly. “Think about it.”
She nodded. Sat back in her chair, her head spinning, and took a sip of her wine. The fact that he believed in her enough to do that for her ignited a glow inside of her. But it wasn’t just that. He had invited her opinion about the sketches, had valued her input. He valued her for who she was. When was the last time someone had done that?
He might be every bit as much of a playboy as Antonio was, but that, she realized, was where the similarities between the two men began and ended. Lazzero was fascinating and complex, the depth to him undeniably compelling. He was brutally honest about who he was and what he had to offer a woman, which Antonio had never been.
What he’d said that first night about her had been right. She was afraid to get hurt again. Was afraid to admit how she felt about him. But denying this connection between them wasn’t getting her anywhere.
A flock of butterflies swooped through her stomach. What if she were to walk into this thing with Lazzero with her eyes wide-open? No wild, dreamy expectations like she’d had with Antonio. Just the cold hard reality that when she and Lazzero went back to New York, it would be over?
It was a heady thought that gained momentum as the conversation drifted from politics to the entertaining stories Lazzero had to tell about the mega-million-dollar athletes he worked with. As she sipped the delicious, full-bodied wine. Absorbed the heart-stoppingly romantic atmosphere as the waves crashed against the cliff below.
And then there was the way Lazzero kept holding her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The brush of his long, muscular legs against the bare skin of her thighs that sent shivers of excitement through her. The way his gaze rested on her mouth with increasing frequency as the night wore on.
She didn’t want to feel dead inside anymore. She wanted to walk into the fire with Lazzero. To know every thrilling moment of it. To not look back and wonder what if. Because she wasn’t the same girl she’d once been. She was tougher. Wiser. And she knew what she wanted.
Somewhere along the way, between a discussion of the current state of the EU and the choice of decadent dessert, she lost the plot completely.
Lazzero’s gaze darkened. “I have a question,” he asked huskily, eyes on hers. “When are we getting to the necking part of the evening?”
Her insides fell apart on a low heated pull. “Lazzero—”
He lifted his hand. Signaled their waiter. Five minutes later, he had the bill paid and something else the waiter had placed in his hand. Extending a purposeful hand to her, he navigated the sea of tables to the exit with an impatience that had her heart slamming into her breastbone. But he didn’t lead her toward the entrance, he directed her toward the elevators instead.
“Aren’t we getting the car?” she breathed.
“No.” Jamming his thumb on the call button Lazzero summoned the elevator. A key, she identified past her pounding heart. He had a key in his hand.
She could have cried out with frustration when the elevator doors opened to reveal two couples inside. She smiled politely at them, her knees shaking. Lazzero, noticing her less-than-steady stature, slid an arm around her waist and pulled her back against his hard, solid frame. Which was like touching dry timber to a match. By the time they stopped at their floor, she was trembling so much, she could hardly breathe.
Open slid the elevator doors. Out she and Lazzero stepped. Down the hall he strode, her hand in his. There didn’t seem to be any other rooms on this floor, just the one door Lazzero stopped in front of at the end. Expecting him to use the key, she gasped as he backed her up against the wall instead, his mouth dipping to take hers in a hot, hard kiss, one that promised a wildness that echoed the shaking in her knees.
His hand wound around a thick chunk of her hair, he angled her head until he had her exactly where he wanted her, then plunged deeper, until they were consuming each other with a ferocity that was terrifying in its intensity.
When they finally came up for air, they were both breathing hard. Lazzero dragged his mouth up to her ear. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Tell me you want this, Chiara.”
A moment of complete and utter panic consumed her. She drew back, a handful of his shirt in her fingers. Took a deep breath and grounded herself in his dark, hot gaze. In the man, she was learning, she could trust without reservation. Reaching up, she traced the hard, sensual line of his mouth with her fingers and nodded.
His eyes turned to flame. His brief fumble with the key before he got it into the lock wiped away the last of her reservations. Door unlocked, he picked her up, wrapped her legs around him and walked through the door, kicking it shut.
* * *
Wild for her in a way he had never experienced before, Lazzero backed Chiara up against the wall and picked the kiss up where he had left off. Trailing openmouthed caresses down the elegant line of her neck, he sank his teeth into the vein that throbbed for him. Her gasp rang out, hot, needy.
Tempted beyond bearing, he slid his hands beneath the gauzy silk of her dress and cupped her bottom. Silk. She was wearing silk panties beneath the dress—light, sheer wisps of nothing. Sliding his hands over her bottom, wanting, needing to feel her against him, he lifted her, altered the angle between them so that he was cradled in the heat between her thighs. She gasped as the still-covered length of his erection parted her softness through the silk of her panties.
“God, Lazzero. That feels—”
He smoothed a thumb over the juncture of her thigh and abdomen. She arched against him, his hot, hard length rubbing against her center.
“How?” he whispered, his voice rough. “How does it make you feel?”
“So good,” she whimpered. “It feels so good. So hot.”
He uttered a string of curses. Slow it down, his brain warned. Slow it down or he’d be buried in her in about five seconds flat and that was not how this was going to go. Not when the thought of having her was blowing a hole in his brain.
His heart threatening to batter its way through his chest, he sucked in a breath. Unwrapped her legs from around his waist and eased her down his body until her feet touched the floor, the slide of her curves against him hardening him to painful steel. Confused, Chiara stared up at him, her green eyes dazed with desire.
“We need to slow it down,” he said huskily, snaring her hand and leading her into the suite, “or this is going to be over way too fast.”
The suite, he discovered, was like something straight out of a fantasy. Carved out of the same limestone rock as the rest of the hotel, the circular room was finished with exposed brick and a mosaic-tiled floor illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp that had been left on for them.
Not to be outdone by the view from the restaurant, a luxurious sitting area offered a spectacular view of the sea through the open French doors and the terrace beyond. It was, however, the massive bed dominating the space that held his attention.
He sat down on it. Drew Chiara between his parted legs. His blood fizzled in his veins as he scoured her from head to toe.
“I don’t know what to touch first,” he admitted huskily. “You are so stunning you make my head want to explode.”
Her eyes darkened to twin pools of forest green. She apparently knew exactl
y what she wanted to touch. Hands trembling, she moved her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. Worked her way down the row until she’d reached the last, buried beneath his belt. Dragging his shirt from his pants, she undid it, spread her palms flat against his abs and traced her fingers over each indentation and rise of muscle.
“You are insane,” she murmured.
His stomach contracted, a rush of heat flooding through him. Not as insane as he was going to be if he didn’t touch her soon. Shrugging off the shirt, he threw it to the floor. Hands at her waist, he turned her around and lowered the zip on her dress, exposing inches of creamy, olive skin as he sent the dress fluttering to the floor in a cloud of dusky-pink silk.
“Step out of it,” he instructed, heart jamming in his chest.
She kicked the dress aside and turned around. Absorbed the heat of his gaze as it singed every inch of her skin. The soft, full, oh-so-kissable mouth that had driven him wild from the beginning. The delicate pink bra and panty set she wore that did little to hide the lush femininity beneath.
He sank his hands into her waist and lifted her to straddle him, her knees coming down on either side of his. Cupping her head with the palm of his hand, he brought her mouth down to his. Devoured her until she was soft and malleable beneath his hands and as into this as he was.
Needing to touch, to discover, he dropped his hands to her closure of her bra. Undid it and stripped it off, dropping it to the floor. Her curves, heavy and rose-tipped, filled his hands. Drunk on her, unable to get enough, he traced circles around her flesh with his thumbs, moving ever closer to the swollen tips with every sweep of his fingers, but never where she wanted it, until she groaned and pushed herself into his hands.
“Like this?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumbs over the distended peaks, enflamed by her response. She gasped and muttered her assent. He rolled the hard nubs between his fingers until she was twisting against him, restless and needy.
“You want more?” he murmured. “Show me where.”
A wave of color stained her cheeks. “Lazzero—” she whispered.
“Show me.”
She sank her teeth into her lip. Spread a palm against her abdomen, low, where those tiny pink panties barely covered her femininity. His blood surged in his veins. Tempted beyond bearing, he covered her palm with his, his eyes on hers. “You want me to touch you?”
Her cheeks turned a deeper, fiery red. Then came a tiny nod. He almost lost it right there, but somehow, he held it together. Easing his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, he cupped her in his palm. Waited while she got used to his intimate possession, her beautiful green eyes dilating with heat. Then, sliding a finger along her slick cleft, he caressed her with a lazy stroke. Felt his heart slam in his chest at how wet, how aroused she was.
“You feel like honey,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a lazy kiss at the same time as he rotated his thumb against her sweet, throbbing center. “Like hot, slick honey.”
She moaned into his mouth. He kept teasing her until she was even hotter, slicker, aroused to a fever pitch. Then he slid a finger inside of her—slowly, gently, watching the pleasure flicker across her face as he claimed her with an intimate caress.
“You like that?”
“More,” she whispered, arching her back.
Her uninhibited, innocent responses affected him like nothing he could remember, the blood raging in his head now. He slid deeper, each gentle push of his finger taking him further inside her silky body. The feel of her velvet flesh clenching around him was indescribable. She was tight and so damn hot. Heaven.
“That’s it,” he encouraged thickly as she moved into his touch, inviting it now. “Ride me, baby. Take your pleasure.”
She closed her eyes. He tangled his tongue with hers, absorbed every broken sound until her harsh pants became desperate. “Lazzero—” she breathed.
He slid two fingers inside of her. Pumped them deep. Once, twice, three times, and she came apart in his arms.
* * *
Chiara wasn’t sure how long it took her to surface, her bones melted into nothing as his strong arms held her upright. When she finally returned to consciousness, she found herself drowning in the dark glitter of satisfaction in his black gaze.
He had given her extreme pleasure, but had taken none for himself. The tense set of his big body beneath her hands was testament to the control he had exerted over himself. But now it was stretched to the limit.
Emboldened by what they’d just shared, wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d just given her, she dropped her hand to the hard ridge that strained his trousers. Reveled in the harsh intake of air he sucked in. “I think we should abstain from that right now,” he murmured, clamping his hand over hers.
“I want to touch you,” she said softly, her eyes on his. “Let me.”
He considered her for a moment, and then his hands fell away. She curled her fingers around the button of his pants. Released it from its closure. Her fingers moving to his zipper, she lowered it, working it carefully past his straining erection.
The air was so hot and heavy between them as she reached inside his briefs and closed her fingers around him, it was hard to breathe. He was insanely masculine—like smooth, hard steel. Moving her hands over him, she stroked him, petted him, her body going slick all over again at the thought of having him. Taking him.
With a low groan, Lazzero rolled off the bed and divested himself of the rest of his clothes. The sound of a foil wrapper sounded inordinately loud in the whisper-quiet room. Prowling back to the bed, he kissed her again, eased her back into the soft sheets with the weight of his body and stripped the panties from her.
An ache building inside of her in a deeper, headier place, she cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth down to hers.
Luxurious, intimate, the meeting of their mouths went on forever. Sliding his hand around the back of her knee, Lazzero curved her leg around his waist. Settled himself into the cradle of her thighs until his heat was positioned against her slick, wet flesh. Her stomach dissolved into dust. He was big. So big.
“We go slow,” he murmured, reading her expression. “Tell me how it feels, caro. What you like.”
She arched her hips, desperate for him. He slid a palm beneath her bottom, raised her up and slipped the velvet head of him just inside her, his big body shuddering. “So tight,” he said raggedly, “so good. How does that feel?”
“Amazing.” She barely got the word out past the pounding of her heart. “More.”
He sank inside of her a little bit more. Retreated, then pushed deeper, each stroke giving her time to adjust to the size and girth of him. Gentle, so patient, he tried her patience.
She closed her hands around his rock-hard glutes and pulled him deeper. A muttered curse leaving his mouth, he grasped her hips and claimed her with a single, powerful thrust that filled every part of her. Tore the breath from her lungs.
Never had she felt so possessed, so full of everything. Mouth glued to his, her air his air, they set a frantic rhythm together until they melted into one. Until she felt herself tighten around him, the pleasure threatening to shatter her all over again.
“That’s it.” Thick, hoarse, the guttural edge to Lazzero’s voice at her ear spurred her on. “Let go.”
His big body flexed above her, his muscles bunching as he shifted his position to deepen his thrusts. The connection they shared as his dark gaze burned into hers was so electric, so all-encompassing, it froze her in place. So much more than just the physical, it was the most intimate, soul-baring experience of her life.
Slowly, deliberately, he ground against her where she needed him the most. The delicious friction of his body against hers sent her over the edge with a sharp cry. An animal-like groan leaving his throat, Lazzero unleashed himself and took his pleasure, claiming her so deeply all she saw was white-hot stars
as they shattered into one.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHIARA EMERGED FROM a sex-induced haze to find herself plastered across Lazzero’s muscular chest, her legs tangled with his, his heart pounding beneath her ear in almost as wild a rhythm as hers. She had the feeling he was as thrown off balance by what they’d just shared as she was, but he didn’t say anything, just stroked a lazy path down her spine with his palm.
Her stomach dipped, settling somewhere around the rocky shore below. She’d just had wild, ridiculously hot sex with Lazzero, the depth of the connection they’d shared frightening in its intensity. She had not only walked into the fire, she’d drowned herself in it. She didn’t feel dead anymore, she felt unnervingly, terrifyingly alive, like someone had mainlined adrenaline through her veins. As if she’d denied herself this depth of feeling, of connection, for so long, it was complete and utter sensory overload.
But there was also fear. Fear she’d spent a lifetime avoiding these feelings. That the one time she’d slipped and allowed herself to be this vulnerable, she’d been destroyed. Fear that it was Lazzero that was making it so scary. Because he was an insane lover. Because she had liked him for a long time and refused to admit it.
Because of how he made her feel.
She buried her teeth in her lip. Forced herself to stay in the moment. To absorb it, rather than run from it, because she’d been doing that for far too long and she’d promised herself this was not going to be about that. This was about finding a piece of herself again that she’d lost.
“What?” Lazzero’s hand stilled on her spine, as if he could read the shift in her emotion.
She buried her teeth deeper into her lip. “Nothing.”
He rolled her onto her back and sank his fingers into her hair so that she was forced to look at him. “You are far too easy to read. You have smoke coming out of your ears. Regrets already?”
His Million-Dollar Marriage Proposal Page 11