Page 40 of Forbidden Until Midnight

Panting now with desire for everything he could give her, her legs trembled beneath the weight of her want.

‘I want to worship you,’ Santo whispered honestly against her skin. ‘I want you to know what that feels like.’ And God, she wanted that too.

Santo wanted her to see what he saw. Her beauty, her strength, her power, her humour, her kindness and her confidence. He wanted her to know what he felt, but struggled to find the words that would make her understand how everything outside of them ceased to exist for him. Everything.

‘I want you to feel nothing but pleasure,’ he confessed.

Eleanor bit her lip as he trailed kisses up her calf, over her knee and across her thigh, the bare skin like silk. He wanted so much more for her than he’d ever had himself. He wanted to care for her throughout it, not steal it, bribe it or seduce it from her. He wanted her with him, in truth, in honesty and in pleasure.

‘But if for one single minute you need me to stop, or to slow down—’

‘Are you going to ask me for a safe word?’ she said, trying to joke.

He stopped, his lips hovering barely an inch from her skin, and looked up at her, locking his gaze with hers. ‘You arealwayssafe with me.’

Her eyes glistened, emotion brimming to the edges, and he knew that she understood what he meant. That promise went beyond this night, to all the nights. To for ever, no matter what happened between them. It was unbreakable, written in the marrow in his bones. He would care for her, love her, until his last breath on this planet.

Barely able to contain his own feelings, he pressed another kiss and another against the flesh of her inner thigh.

Her sigh turned into a gasp that fisted his erection as if she held him in the palm of her hand. Involuntarily, a growl escaped his lips and she shifted on the counter as if responses unfurled between them, back and forth on the tie that bound them together.

This was why it had always been inevitable. This was why she was the only woman for him now. Because his entire being depended on her, on what she felt, how she felt it, and how much better he could make it for her.

He gently parted her legs to make space for him fully, leaning forward to reach behind her to pull her closer to the edge, closer to him.

‘I will stop if you want me to, but you have to tell me. So, I need you to talk to me.’

‘You...you want me to talk to you?’

He leaned forward and kissed her, teasing her mouth open for him, one powerful thrust with his tongue against hers, before pulling back.

‘I want you to tell me how it feels for you.’

He could see the flush on her cheeks deepen.

‘What if I use the wrong words?’ she asked, biting that lip of hers again.

‘There are no wrong words here. There is nothing to fear, and nothing to be ashamed of,cara. I mean it,’ he said, almost sternly.

Eleanor nodded, placing her trust in him, and he felt it like a gift. One that he was not worthy of in the least.

He kissed her again, swiftly, passionately, one hand pressing her into him, the other lifting her leg again behind her knee, over his hip, knowing that she could feel his need for her at the juncture of her thighs, knowing, as he ground against her, the moment he pressed against her clit because of the way her head fell back and the snap of pleasure rippled across her body.

He repeated the move again and she pressed, shaking, into him further.

‘Words,cara,’ he reminded her.

‘Again,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’ he asked, reaching the edge of his sanity.

‘Because it feels good,’ she said on panted breaths.

He slowly swept her skirt aside, lifting it over her knees, kissing each inch of flesh that was revealed across her thighs and higher, until finally he could see the dark, damp silk of her underwear, the musky scent of her driving him near feral with lust and want.

‘May I?’ he asked, with his thumb hooked into the waistband of her panties.

‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes so exquisitely full of desire, a strand of her hair falling loose as she nodded.

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