“Sor-ry,” he said, breaking the word into two syllables. “I thought you were enjoying it.”
Her hands shook as she covered her legs and sat up.
A look of confusion crossed his face and his expression blanked into something unreadable. He looked away from her as if regretting everything he’d just done.
Guilt churned in her stomach as she worried she might have embarrassed him.
She sighed. “I did enjoy it. I just…no one’s ever blown on my stomach like that.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes distrusting. “It’s cool. Moment’s over.”
Why did she suddenly feel like the worst person in the world? “You’re mad.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Hurt then.” When he didn’t deny it, she said, “Let’s rewind.”
He shook his head. “It’s cool, Erin. If you’re not into it—”
“Stop.” She hated the idea of him thinking she hadn’t enjoyed what he’d done. “I liked it.” She’d liked it too much. “You’re…good at it.”
That got a smile. “Really?”
“You know you are.”
“No, I don’t.” He jumped back onto the bed, and leaned up on one elbow with his hand under his ear like a teenage girl getting gossip about the hottest football player on the varsity team. “You came, right?”
Her face flushed. “Oh, my God.”
“Did you?”
“Giovanni…”
“Yes or no. It’s a simple question.”
“Fine. Yes. Now, drop it.”
“I knew it. You can tell when women fake it.”
This was so weird. She didn’t know what to say or where to look. She took another sip of her cocktail.
He pushed the sheet off her leg and drew whirls around the cap of her knee, his fingers gliding higher and higher up her thigh until he teased the V of her sex. He looked up at her with those big brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“I wasn’t finished,” he said, nudging his finger between her thighs, silently requesting she pull them apart.
Her heart jittered in her chest. This was so incomparable to every other guy she’d been with, she wasn’t sure how to act. Sliding down the bed, she lowered to her back.
He didn’t kiss her or touch her right away. For a moment, he merely looked at her.
“I want this off.” He peeled up the T-shirt, stripping her bare. “My God.” Lying on his side, he looked down at her, his stare so intense she had to shut her eyes.
The soft glide of his finger down her torso caused her spine and nipples to stiffen. Warm breath shot shivers over her skin as he nuzzled her neck, making her body cold and hot at the same time.
He cupped her breast, massaging softly and teasing. When he kissed her mouth, he did so with tender care, savoring every lick and drawing out every pleasure.
It wasn’t long before he was between her legs again and her body was writhing under his sensual touch. Giovanni wasn’t a man who enjoyed women, he loved women. The man had unmatched skill.
She lost track of how many times he brought her to climax, and never once did he ask her to touch him in return. In the end, he didn’t have to.
Her body ached to be filled and she needed him as much as he seemed to need her. Reaching into his briefs, she stroked his hard flesh and he shivered, letting out what she assumed was an Italian curse.
He shoved down the material, shameless and hungry, revealing every inch of him—and there was a lot. She should have taken care of him the way he took care of her, but they both seemed to want something else.
“Condom?”
He dashed over to his suitcase and rummaged around. When he returned, he paused at the foot of the bed, rolling the condom over his hard flesh. “Ready?”
She nodded and rolled to her stomach.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
She looked over her shoulder. The room was getting dark. “I like it this way.”
“But I want to see you.”
Her stomach pinched. She couldn’t do the whole look-into-my-eyes thing. It hurt too much.
But he had been so sweet to her. She supposed she could close her eyes. She rolled to her back and stretched her arms overhead.
He smiled, and damn her, but she smiled too. Despite all his good looks, there was something downright cute about him.
He didn’t slide inside of her right away. First, he kissed her. Most men treated women like microwaves, spending no time at all on foreplay. But Giovanni went above and beyond. He wasn’t just a slow cooker, he was a master chef whose greatest tools were his hands. He created a slow burning fire that grew hotter and hotter as he worked his unmatched skill.
When he finally nudged her sex with his, she was beyond ready. The first inch of him told her it was going to be a tight fit.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
His words hit like a bullet through the lungs, siphoning all the air away until her heart pinched.