Page 42 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Warm knuckles brushed her inner thigh. Then, in one urgent tug, he ripped the fabric free of her body.

Charlotte’s mouth hung agape as ivory lace sailed through the air. She just had time to read Alessio’s satisfied smile before he pressed her thighs open with those big, gentle hands and buried his face between her legs.

Her senses overloaded as he located her clitoris. His tongue circled, then stroked, and her pelvis lifted eagerly because it was impossible to stay still. Not when each lap of his tongue sent another bolt of lightning through her.

He traced her entrance with his finger, delving in time with his tongue, and Charlotte gasped.

She quivered all over, pleasure rising to impossible levels as his intimate caresses breached every expectation. How had she thought she’d understood her body when it was clear she’d known so little about how good it could feel? She was filled to the brim with heat and light and a welling sensation stronger than anything she’d ever known.

One finger became two, and she heard the slick sound of their easy slide, felt the draw of his mouth against her most sensitive spot.

And suddenly she was flying, racing up through the clear, bright air, sobbing in ecstasy so powerful it edged towards fear. Till heat surrounded her, strong arms pulling her close, and there was Alessio, his chest crushing hers, whispering reassurance in that velvety voice till the fear disappeared and there was only rapture and this man. This one amazing man who’d given her more than she’d ever expected to receive.

Charlotte sobbed his name, clutching him close, and for the first time in her life, let herself go completely.

CHAPTER TEN

WATCHINGCHARLOTTECLIMAX, holding her to him as she embraced rapture, was the most extraordinary experience. As if he shared that rapture. As if her delight were his and he’d flown to the stars with her, even though he was tight to the point of pain with unfulfilled need.

Alessio had known plenty of women and was always a gentleman about sex, ensuring his partner’s pleasure before his own. Yet he couldn’t recall ever feeling like this with a lover.

His arousal was torture because he’d never been so turned on in his life.

Yet gratification wasn’t uppermost in his mind. Charlotte was.

He basked in the glow of knowing he’d brought her to a shattering high. But there was something more, a primal instinct that spoke of a deeper bond. She clung to him, his name a soft sigh on her lips, as she tucked herself tight against him, and part of his brain went into meltdown. At the knowledge she needed him still, even after that climax.

And at the strange jumble of emotions rampaging through him. Protectiveness, triumph, excitement and tenderness.

Alessio had never felt like this about any other woman.

Even Antonia, his dead wife.

He waited for piercing guilt to stab him. After all, this was the first time he’d been with a woman since Antonia.

Yet it didn’t come.

Gently he brushed Charlotte’s damp hair off her cheek, his chest squeezing as she turned her face to follow the gesture, pressing her lips to his palm and sending a shudder of exquisite pleasure arrowing to his groin.

No, it hadn’t been like this with Antonia. They’d known each other for years and been friends with occasional benefits, neither looking for or expecting commitment.

Until everything changed and they’d married.

And everything went wrong.

‘What are you thinking about? You look upset.’

Alessio tried to gather his thoughts. He met eyes of rich lapis lazuli, felt himself fall and keep falling. As if nothing could be better than to lose himself in those depths.

‘Alessio? I’m sorry. I should have waited for you. That was selfish of me.’

Charlotte’s hand fumbled between them, sliding across slick skin to hold him, and send him into one of the darkest circles of hell. Because resisting the urge to spill himself was almost impossible.

‘No!’ He grabbed her hand, pulling it away, wincing at the desperate effort of not coming in her hand.

The thought brought him to the edge of control, chest heaving, every muscle strung taut.

‘You don’t want me to touch you?’ Had Charlotte’s eyes always been so wide and wondering?

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