Page 31 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

When she opened her eyes the strange sensation hit him again, and with it the belief that he was looking into the eyes of the real Isabelle for the first time. There was nothing calculated in it. No guile. Just her. Just Issy and her desire for him.

He cupped her cheeks and kissed her so passionately she moaned into his mouth and scraped her fingers over his back. A zipper ran the length of her dress to her bottom and he pinched it and drew it down. Not breaking the lock of their mouths, she shrugged the spaghetti straps off her shoulders so they slipped down her arms and the dress fell to her waist, allowing her naked breasts to crush against his bare skin for the first time.Dio, he’d never known bare skin against bare skin could feel so incredible.

Breathing heavily, Gianni broke the kiss so he could gaze into her desire-drugged eyes again and drink in the heightened colour staining her cheeks.

He placed a hand to her chest and gently pressed her back. And then he brushed his hand over a breast that fitted into the palm as if it had been specially made for him. Pressing her back even further, he dipped his head and captured a dusky pink nipple in his mouth.

Issy jolted and gasped at the unexpected shock of pleasure that coursed through her. But it didn’t end there, not with Gianni kissing and biting and sucking the overly sensitised skin, moving from breast to breast, flickering his tongue down lower still to nip at her navel, his hands roaming the contours of her body, fingers sliding over silk and flesh, leaving her skin flamed in their wake.

The flames deepened when his mouth found hers again and his hand slid beneath the bunched hem of her dress and grasped the band of her knickers. Thrilling at the hunger of his kisses, greedily devouring him with the same intensity, she gripped Gianni’s shoulders and raised her bottom. He yanked the knickers down her thighs. A couple of flicks of her legs and they slipped down her calves to her feet, from where she kicked them off.

His desire when he pulled back to soak up her semi-nakedness, etched in every line of his hooded, heavy stare, overrode any of Issy’s shyness at being displayed like this. There was a pained reverence in the look, as if she were the first woman he’d ever seen like this.

Could he see through her skin to the wildly beating heart? Could he see the flames licking her veins and bones?

One pop of a button and tug at a zip and his shorts fell down.

Issy roamed her gaze over him in the same way he’d soaked her up. She could hardly breathe. All her life, she’d thought the female body the more pleasing of the sexes. Gianni Rossi was the only man whose body had ever drawn her eye but for years she’d told herself it was because of her intensive research on him, that the reason she kept going back to pictures of him half-naked holidaying on his yacht was for whichever companion he happened to be with so she could study them in her pursuit of copying their look.

It had always been him. The devil disguised as Apollo. The sexiest man to roam the earth.

But she’d never seen a picture of him fully naked. Just as the pictures of him had never done him justice, seeing him naked was a revelation in itself. Magnificent was too lame a word to describe him. Every part of the devil was beautiful.

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered. There was something about his kisses that fed her hunger and made her greedy for more. Much more. Greedy for everything.

In a flash their mouths locked back together. Hands dragged heavily over skin, a need to discover and taste pulsing through them both, pulses that turned into throbs when Gianni cupped her sex and pressed his thumb against her swollen nub. Dear heavens, she’d thought it had felt good earlier... That was nothing...nothing.

She rubbed against him, moaning her pleasure into the deepening tangle of tongues.

Gianni could hardly believe how hot and wet Issy was for him. If the cells of the human body could make sound, hers would be crying out their need. He could feel it, taste it, smell it, and, keeping the pressure on the source of her pleasure, slipped a finger inside the sticky heat, his senses thrumming as her moans deepened and she clung even tighter to him.

Panting, she broke the fusion of their mouths and, still rocking into him, almost bit his cheek as she gasped, ‘Condoms?’

He could hardly speak. ‘In my pocket.’

‘Get...’ But her words died. Her eyes glazed, her pants shortened and suddenly her neck arched and her mouth opened. No sound came out. It didn’t need to. Issy’s silent climax shuddered through her, its ripples practically visible, and suddenly the need to take possession and lose himself inside her peaked to the point of desperation.

Only when he was certain that she’d passed her own peak did he gently remove his hand and kiss her. ‘Let me get the condom.’

‘Do it,’ she whispered.

In a flash, he pulled a condom out of his back pocket, ripped the packet with his teeth and sheathed himself. Her hands were reaching for him, and when he stepped between her legs, she clasped the back of his neck.

He guided his erection to her damp opening.

Still breathing heavily, she swallowed and huskily said, ‘Be gentle, okay?’

He jerked a nod, gripped a hip and, with anticipation almost too heavy to bear, was about to press himself inside her sticky heat when it flashed in his mind: the questionwhyshe would ask him to be gentle. ‘Is this your first time?’ He had to drag the words out.

Her grip tightened on his neck and she pushed back, encouraging him to take possession. His arousal throbbed so hard it burned through every part of him. ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

How desperately he wanted to thrust himself inside her. It was a desperation he’d never felt before. Not like this.

She was a virgin.

‘It’s okay,’ she said raggedly, bringing her mouth to his and scraping the pads of her fingers over the bristles on the back of his neck. ‘You won’t hurt me.’

Her simple declaration landed like a punch to his solar plexus.

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