Even as he said it, the toe of her sandal caught a crack in the old stone. Her momentum jerked her off balance, tipping her forward, arms out to save herself.
Large hands grabbed her, pulling her up.
Her breath escaped in a silent oof as she collided with a solid form, her hands splaying across Gio’s ink-blue shirt. Beneath the fabric she felt incredible heat and a cushioned hardness that spoke of taut, honed muscle.
Dazed, she swallowed and sucked in air scented with the heady fragrance of virile male. Trails of tingling fire spread through her body, from palms to soles, breasts to groin.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep, telling herself she was gathering herself to move. If she also happened to imprint the sense memory of Gio in her brain, no one needed to know.
There. She was ready to move. She opened her eyes and straightened her spine. ‘Thank you—’
‘Stella.’
In all her life no one had said her name like that. So resonant she felt it vibrate from his broad chest into her hands almost more than she heard it. Yet the sound was there too, rough and rumbly, utterly enticing.
Her head tilted back as she watched his mouth move, mesmerised. His lips were sculpted. She wondered if they were soft or hard.
‘I…’
Whatever she was going to say disappeared as her gaze locked on silver eyes under slashing black eyebrows. She saw surprise there. Awareness. Invitation.
Mouth dry, Stella swallowed and moistened her lip.
Something flashed in Gio’s eyes and she quivered, her knees so unsteady she grabbed his shirt to steady herself.
‘I want to kiss you, Stella.’
Yes! Please.
‘Okay.’
One sleek eyebrow quirked up as if in amusement but his stare was serious, so intent shefeltits weight as if he’d lifted a hand to stroke her cheeks, her lips, her throat and down to where her heart hammered.
Slowly, so slowly, he bent his head. She watched those burnished eyes come nearer, felt his breath on her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers and she sighed, sinking at the knees and clutching at his shoulders.
For from that first instant there was magic. The sort she’d hoped for in her teens. That had been banished by her history of ill-fated romance. Because of fumbling boys who’d viewed her as an outsider and therefore fair game. Then self-interested men who’d seen her as the key to a fortune, not a prize in herself.
Shock ran through her as Gio’s mouth cast a spell with its gentle caresses. There was sorcery in the slide of his tongue against hers. Enchantment in the way his body shielded her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other supporting her head as if she were incredibly precious. His long fingers cupped her skull as he angled his head to draw out the kiss into something beyond a meeting of mouths.
Something welled inside her. A craving for more. A sense of absolute rightness. A bone-deep sigh, as if she’d waited her whole life for this moment, this man.
Maybe she had.
Spellbound, Stella gave herself up to him, capitulation an exquisite hum in her blood. But she didn’t just take. She demanded too, pushing high against him as if to climb his powerful body. She delved further, her hunger acute as his honed musculature provided delicious friction against her breasts and belly.
Her hands dug into thick hair, cupping his skull and drawing it down, holding his mouth to hers as if fearing he’d stop.
He shifted, moving his legs wide and drawing her against his enticing heat. Excitement and arousal spiked as she shuffled to stand between his legs, his bunched thigh muscles testament to the power he possessed but leashed. For she knew that if she chose, she could break his hold and move away.
She didn’t want that. Stella wanted more, so that when she pressed closer and discovered the solid ridge of his erection against her belly it felt only right.
The tempo of their kiss altered, becoming heavy and almost languid but there was nothing languid about the hammer beat of her pulse or the drag of her lungs as she fought for air, not wanting to lift her mouth from his for a second.
In the end it wasn’t her choice. Gio lifted his head, straightening to his full height and gripping her arms when she would have pulled him back.
A searing breath into aching lungs, a flash of his storm-dark eyes and abruptly Stella was back on solid ground, physically and mentally.
His broad chest rose before her, proof that he, too, had been carried away.