Page 32 of In Bed with Her Billionaire Bodyguard

There were too many barriers between them. Too many layers. She wanted to feel him, to know the heat of his skin, the firm muscle beneath his shirt and the erection pressing against her abdomen—the weight of it, the velvety smoothness, thetasteof it. Carnal and wicked images ran through her mind like a kaleidoscope and suddenly she was ravenous for whatever he could give her, whatever he would let her take.

Luca’s hands bracketed her ribs, holding her to his mouth...to where he continued to fasten his mouth to her breast. The cowl neckline of her dress was too high for him to bare her to his tongue without damaging it or... Frustration and impatience had her reaching for the bottom of her dress and pulling it from her body, Luca reacting quickly enough to move out of the way to let her. And then she stood before him, her black heels with the red soles, and absolutely nothing else.

And that was when Hope truly understood what it was to be devoured. He consumed every inch of her. She followed his gaze as his eyes tracked over her breasts, lingering on them before following the curve of her hip, the length of her legs, the sweep of her calves, locking on the shoes, when she saw silverburn.

‘Turn,’ he commanded.

If it had been anyone else, she might have felt objectified, but with Luca? She feltalive. She felt desired. She felt as if she were the one with the power and he was simply asking for more. Slowly, inch by inch, she turned in a circle, feeling the heat of his attention like a touch, like a caress, warmed by it, wetted by it.

Restless, she rubbed her thighs together, knowing that the orgasm he’d brought her to was a taste of what was to come, rather than the culmination. He bit his lip as he tugged at his tie and shirt with staccato movements. Buttons were yanked, his belt released from loops in one smooth movement that defied rational thought, his feet were bare and she couldn’t remember when he’d taken off his shoes.

He pulled his shirt from his body, the vest beneath hugging muscles she wanted easy access to. Refusing to be a spectator any longer, she closed the distance between them and tugged the vest from the waistband of his trousers, glorying in the hot, smooth muscles that rippled beneath her touch.

She traced the detail of his tattoo, the wing down to the body of the horse. Pegasus. Power, freedom, determination all communicated in black and white detail—it was a piece of art.

He let her explore his body with a patience that she marvelled at. It was only when she pulled the vest from his body, pressing her mouth against his, her head full of the scent of him, her tongue parsing salt from skin and the taste that was uniquely him, that she realised it wasn’t patience, it was restraint. And it was fraying beneath her ministrations.

Satisfaction unfurled and her own impatience got the better of her. She pulled him to her by the waistband of his trousers, before reaching to undo the button and the zip. Matching his earlier sensual tease, she allowed the back of her hand to smooth down the long length of his powerful erection. The temptation of it, of what she would feel when he filled her, was too much. She turned her hand to grasp him, her hold firm but gentle, the thin cotton of his briefs doing nothing to disguise the promise of him, and even that barrier became too much. She wanted skin, she wanted... Her hand slipped beneath his briefs and held him, heat on heat, smooth on smooth, but, even then, less than they both wanted.

Her hand drew up and down the length of him, the slide erotic and bringing slashes of dark red to his cheekbones. His chest heaved with his breath, and she felt it, having him at her mercy, the power she wielded in that moment. The trust it had taken for her to give in to him shining back at her in his silvery gaze. His breaths became pants and groans as she flexed her grip at the base of his erection, as she reached to cup his balls, as he fought his own desire for more.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted him inside her. As if he’d read her very thoughts, he pulled back slightly from her hold, breaking their connection, only to remove the trousers and briefs in one go. If she had even a moment to take in what they looked like, staring each other down, naked, aroused, panting, it was just that. A moment. Because Luca reached for her, picking her up in his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, his erection pressing against her stomach, his hands beneath her, perilously close to her folds, teasing her and instantly making her throb. He held her as he walked back to the sofa and sat, laying her across his lap, looking up hungrily at where she rose above him.

Unable to stop herself, she ground against his erection, the pressure raking against her clitoris sending a thrill through her, and his hands on her backside only encouraging her to repeat the action.

He reached down beside them and returned with a condom and she sent a prayer of thanks that at least one of them was thinking sensibly. She rose onto her knees as he covered himself in the latex, before running his thumb between her folds again, teasing her clitoris from beneath her. Unrestrained moans of pleasure fell from her lips as she rocked against his thumb, as he guided the head of his penis to her entrance and then she slowly, inch by inch, sank downwards onto his erection.

Curses fell into the room, his or hers she couldn’t tell as he filled her, stretching her aching muscles, pleasure feeding into her bloodstream like a drug she could become addicted to. From this position she had power, she had control, and that he knew her enough to know how important that was to her was both terrifying and thrilling. Back and forth she rocked against him, teasing them both, sweat slicking their bodies and heartbeats pounding through skin.

For what felt like hours, they simply gloried in the feel of each other, the sounds and feel and scent and taste of each other... It was languid, slow and utterly erotic, the slide and glide of his hard length in her. The pleasure merely banked from her previous orgasm nipped at her heels, building slowly and slowly, and all the while Luca’s gaze locked on hers watched every single moment of it happen. He could feel it, she realised, the tightening of her muscles, the impending orgasm about to sweep her away.

But then he moved.

Luca reached around her back, his palms on the tops of her shoulders, and pulled her down at the same moment as he pushed upward and the earth tilted on its axis. He was so deep in her he felt lost and found at the same time. Again and again, he thrust, hard and deep and quick. His hold kept them joined, but each time he felt closer and closer to impossible. Sweat gathered at the base of his spine, Hope, slippery in his arms, her pleasure-filled cries burnt into his soul as he shoved them closer and closer to the brink he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross.

More, heneededmore.

He picked her up and held her to him as he changed their positions, laying Hope carefully on her back on the sofa, and nearly losing his breath as he parted her thighs, so that he could see the way his erection penetrated her body, that he impaled her, but it was Hope watching him that pushed him towards the cliff edge. Her pleasure in his pleasure, her arousal fed by his, and he reached between them, his thumb finding her clitoris, rubbing gently, furiously, wringing cries and pleas from a woman who had struggled to find her voice merely an hour before.

‘Luca,’ she cried, his name pulled from a voice stretched taut with desire. His chest felt thick, full with arousal, barely able to breathe as he shoved into her, deep and hard, pulling out only to shove into her again. Braced on a hand beside her head, he pounded again and again, pushing them to madness.

Her hands wrapped around his forearm, her mouth finding his wrist, biting, licking and hiding her desire, her skin flushed and sweat-slick as her moans reached a crescendo, the muscles wrapped around his erection tightening like a fist and the orgasm that struck them both at the same time pulled them into an abyss of two stars exploding together.

Hope couldn’t stop staring at him. This man, who had given her the most sensual, erotic experience of her life. This man, who had promised to touch her whenever he wanted, in private. And, as clichéd as it sounded, she was changed by what they had just shared. She felt it, it had sunk into her bones. A secret knowing of what she was capable of not only giving but receiving. As if she’d accessed some previously unknown, untapped, potential formore.

Luca navigated the car effortlessly through the snow-covered darkness. A silence that should have been suffocating, stifling even, held nothing but satisfaction. But also curiosity, she realised as she watched him palm the wheel, turning into the near invisible road to their chalet.

Is it always like that? For you?she wondered.

It was only when he turned to look at her, the car slowly pulling to a stop, heat blazing in his steel-grey gaze that she realised she’d spoken out loud.

‘No, Hope. It’s never...’ He trailed off, seemingly as incapable of describing what they’d shared as she was, soothing the thin thread of unease that had unwound within her. It was important to her that they were equally in this, whatever this was, until they returned to London. Two days. She had two days to work Luca out of her system—if that was even possible. And two days to figure out how to convince Sofia Obeid to change her mind.

He leaned his head back against the rest and looked at her. ‘Stop thinking so hard,’ he said. ‘It’s late. And I still have things I want to do to you tonight.’

And on that sensual promise, Hope let herself be led from the car, into the bedroom, where Luca once again drowned her in a pleasure she could have barely imagined before that night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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