Page 28 of Skin Deep

“No cheap fucking thrill could compare to the real thing,” he said, his voice gruff.

Ah, so he was not so unaffected by me. By my words. By my voice. The big bulge tenting his boxers proved as much.

Setting my cards down, I muttered something in Sicilian about losing this round, then slowly pulled down the straps of my dress. I had nothing on but silk underwear underneath, and I believed it was the reason he kept letting me win. Besides my shoes, I really had nothing to lose.

When the dress pooled at my feet, his eyes took in my body—from head to toe—and my breath caught in my throat.

It could have been a trick of the candlelight, but for the first time, he looked at me with that ravaging passion—it was left over from our argument, but it was growing hotter as his eyes consumed me.

Refusing to back down, I stepped out of the dress, moving slowly toward him. Close enough, I placed my hands on his shoulders, then set one leg on each side of him. The urge to move, to feel friction between us, was strong, but I tamed it down. Our eyes were locked, and even more than sex, it was this…connection I needed to feel in my bones.

The girl was skinny on the outside. My weaknesses were hidden by my flesh.

“Kiss me,” I whispered, coming in closer to his face, but not too close. I could feel his breath drift across my lips, and I licked them, wanting to taste him. The alcohol on his tongue…the cologne drifting from his skin…the mixture made me feel as pliable as candle wax. It was an aphrodisiac.

His hands slid around my waist, his finger finding the silk, and I could feel the restraint in his muscles that yearned to rip.

“Smile for me,” he whispered.

The breath I’d just taken shuddered out of my mouth. He wanted me to smile for him?

He bit his bottom lip on the right side, then let it slip from his teeth’s hold as he barely smiled.

It was the way I smiled. The way I’d always smiled, even as a child.

“You noticed,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “I only have a few basic Italian words.”

I smiled for him, like he said, but before my teeth slid away, he came forward and released my lip with his thumb, tracing the shape in a slow, soft stroke.

My hands fisted the thin white fabric over his wide shoulders.

His hand roved up my back and fisted my hair when he came to the nape of my neck. He pulled me down to his mouth and his tongue found mine, only a taste at first, before it became devouring. The longer we kissed, the harder he became beneath me. His cock pressed against the silk, demanding entrance, and I came down, sliding myself against him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, coming in for another kiss, and then he surged up from the chair, making me gasp when it felt like he’d entered me.

He hadn’t. He was straining against his boxers, pushing in on me, and I wanted nothing more than to remove the layers between us and feel him so deep inside of me, I couldn’t escape.

My legs were wrapped around his waist, and we kissed as he walked from the kitchen to the bedroom and set me down on the bed. We were both panting, reaching out for one another as soon as he put space between us. I used my feet to push his boxers to the floor, freeingil mostro.The monsterstraining against his skin.

“What?” he said, following my eyes, looking down at it and then at me.

“You are not all balls,” I said. “You have…ah…mostro—a monster to go with them.”

He threw his head back and laughed. His skin was smooth and hot, tight against his muscles, andil mostrobobbed as his body shook. His laughter died in his throat as I rose to my knees, taking him in my hand, stroking him.

He pressed into my palm, closing his eyes, moving his hips into my hand. When the noises from his mouth reached a crescendo, I leaned down and ran my tongue around him, just once, squeezing a handful of his balls.

His eyes slowly opened, and when he looked down at me, it almost felt like an orgasm would rip through me. I’d never seen eyes like his before—so guileless.

The passion in them was on the surface, hiding behind nothing. It felt like mine for the taking—all mine—but I knew I was not his. This was temporary madness. A one-night stand. A stand-in for the girl he was probably imagining having sex with my cousin. For him, this was probably the equivalent of after-funeral sex. He needed something to make him feel alive.

“Ahhh,” I breathed out when he came closer, starting to suck on my neck. He pushed me further onto the bed, using his mouth, kiss by erotic kiss, to entice me to shut my mind down again, opening my body up to him.

“You taste so good,” he said, his tongue taking the place of his lips. He swirled it around my nipple, teasing, while his hand came between my legs, caressing the piece of silk.

A long, drawn-out moan seemed to echo in the small casa when he ripped my panties and sucked on my nipple. I bucked against him, small whimpers leaving my mouth.

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