Page 11 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“Everything about you is sexy,” she heard herself murmur, lifting off the bed a little – no easy feat when he was holding her arms – and pressing her lips to his chest. She felt him shudder beneath her kiss and she dragged her mouth lower, to the nipple that was nestled in coarse chest hair. She flicked it with her tongue and then pressed her teeth together around it, lightly, but enough to make him groan and thrust harder into her, almost like a punishment, or an assertion of power.

Mmm, she liked that idea. She pushed higher off the bed, freeing her arms, and pressed her hands to his shoulders. He hadn’t expected the challenge and so when she pushed, hard, he fell to his side, momentarily breaking their connection. His eyes were wide in his face and she smiled, as she straddled him and took him deep inside, moving her hips in time with the ancient rhythm that was pulsing through her.

His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh but not controlling her. She was in charge and it was a heady, addictive sensation. She dropped her mouth to his, kissing him, running the tip of her tongue across his lower lip before dragging it lower, to flick his pulse point, before peppering kisses across his powerful, warm chest.

He groaned and then, his hands on her hips moved her faster, dragging her deeper, until she felt she was out of control and weak and needing from him something she didn’t know, couldn’t express. He guided her effortlessly, his eyes shuttered as passion danced around them, wrapping them in a mist of need.

She cried his name into the air as her orgasm burst over her and he pushed up, freeing himself from restraint, riding the wave with her, his breathing as tortured as her own.

She collapsed against his chest, tired yet exhilarated, exhausted and full of adrenalin.

It was the third time they’d made love.

No. Scratch that. She was silly to think of it in those terms. This wasn’t love; it wasn’t sweet. It was savage animal sex. And it was the best thing she’d ever felt. She pushed up a little and smiled down at him.

“The cat who got the cream,” he murmured, lifting a hand and pushing her dark hair back from her face, looping it over one shoulder.

“Yep.” Her expression was full of happiness. “Now I’m hungry.”

He grinned. “For…?”

“Something.” She shrugged, and fell back against him again. He shifted her slightly, pulling her to his side, so that she lay with her head on his chest and his hand continued to stroke her hair, gently.

“That was…new,” she said, shy in a way that surprised her. It annoyed her too. She was a sensible, confident woman. Why was she talking like a fourteen-year-old? Because this was new. Because she had no idea how any of this worked. “No one’s ever done that before,” she clarified softly.

The admission surprised him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Completely serious,” she whispered, knowing she’d come too far to take the words back.

His eyes narrowed. “And what did you think?”

She smiled, just a small flicker. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

He arched a brow.

“I like it. A lot. Though maybe you’re just some kind of world-champion at oral sex. I shouldn’t say I like ‘it’ so much as I really bloody liked you doing that.”

His laugh was a rumble. “Semantics.”

/> “Hey, semantics matter,” she said with a smile. English wasn’t his first language and yet he spoke it very well. Colloquially. As though he’d spent a lot of time in an English-speaking country, though his accent was still the stuff of Mediterranean dreams, every word kissed with exotic mystique.

“So how is it possible that you’ve never had a guy do that?” He shifted once more, so that he could see her, and she shrugged her shoulders. A small lift that conveyed her uncertainty.

“My ex really wasn’t into it. He found it off-putting.”

“Your ex was an idiot,” Rafe said with confidence.

Ivy dropped her gaze. She didn’t know if she agreed with him or not.

“Why did you break up?”

Panic burst inside of her. That sense that she was being strangled came to her. Sometimes it was almost impossible to believe they had broken up. It was a bad dream she was caught in the middle of. “His aversion to oral sex,” she said with a lightness that hid her broken heart.

He ignored her attempt at humour. “This was recent?”

“Six months ago.” Six months wasn’t recent, but it felt like yesterday. “I’m starving,” she lied. Steve – thoughts of Steve – were making her feel guilty. As though she’d cheated on him or something. A crazy, idiotic idea, given that he was engaged to another woman.

He appeared to let the conversation drop. “Then let’s do something about that, mmm?”

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