I don’t want to hurt you…. His actions over the past few hours had made that clear. He was so delicate with her, so reverent and tender. Maybe that was why this felt different. Even the nicest men could get handsy and rough at times.
“You won’t,” she whispered, shutting her eyes and swallowing hard against the confusing emotions threatening to choke her.
What a strange promise to make. Where had this flimsy trust come from? Yesterday, they hated each other.
He nudged forward, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching as he braced his weight, careful not to crush her. He pressed forward, filling her in one smooth motion as his flat stomach glided against hers.
He glanced down at their bellies sealed together and, when met her stare again, something electric fizzed up her spine and she looked away.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded tightly.
He caught her chin and slowly turned her face back to him. “Open your eyes, Erin.”
She knew better than to look at him, but her lashes lifted anyway.
His warm smile waited and he greeted her with a sensual kiss. It was dark and tempting, but then it turned playful as he pulled at her lip with his teeth and groaned, sliding back and burying himself to the hilt.
She pulled her mouth away, only so she could break the intensity. Lifting her hips, she edged him on and he started to move. If she ever imagined what sex with Giovanni might be like, it was not this.
He didn’t ram into her like a chimp on the loose. Nor was he selfish. He was the opposite of selfish. And when he moved into her, he did so with long, luxuriating strokes that seemed to reach her soul.
There was no rushing to the finish and no showing off his virility. When his hands moved over her, palms flat and fingers splayed, he watched her body’s every reaction. He soaked in her every moan and took his time as if there were no such thing as time at all.
He eventually shifted to his back and pulled her on top of him, guiding her hips as he stole kisses and suckled at her breast. Her fingers ran through his soft, dark hair as she stared at the headboard, riding him slowly, and dragging her sex over his hard body whenever she could steal a bit of friction.
He dropped his touch to where she needed it and teased her softly.
“Hey,” he rasped, using his other hand to direct her stare to his. “What are you looking at?”
She hadn’t been looking at anything, which was the point. Her gaze darted to the pillows beside his head and he turned her face once more. “I’m over here.”
She tried, but couldn’t bear the intimacy. Climbing off of him, she rested on her elbows and hitched her hips. “This way.”
He studied her for a moment, but then moved behind her, filling her in a hard stroke. “Erin…”
“No more talking.”
“What?”
“Just…do it.” Her chest was too tight and this had gone on too long.
He scoffed and she didn’t need to look at him to know he probably rolled his eyes the way he usually did when she frustrated him. “We’re in no rush. Let’s enjoy it.”
She wasn’t used to this taking so long. The more intimate it felt the less enjoyable it became. “If you aren’t going to fuck me then this is pointless.”
The soft set of his face hardened. He stared at her for an excruciating second, then pushed her shoulders down and jacked her ass up. “Fine.”
She let out a sharp gasp when he thrust again, filling her in one hard motion. Any sense of connection severed as he shoved into her.
“Is that what you like?” he asked, drilling harder with each thrust.
Her body swayed into the bed as his weight pressed down on her. Harder and harder, he plowed into her, until she was certain she could have been anyone and it would have made no difference.
Somehow the hollow connection comforted her. It took away any value so there was nothing to lose. But, unlike all the other times, this time she felt as if something had been lost.
Tears welled in her eyes because she didn’t know why she was so screwed up. She’d known cruelty all of her life and, because of that, nothing made her more uncomfortable than kindness.
She didn’t trust people or their intentions. If she raised her expectations, there would be a further distance to fall when others let her down.
This was what she needed—meaningless comfort. It was exactly what she’d asked for. So, why, when he gave her everything she wanted, did she feel like complete crap?
Because that glimpse of how he wanted her earlier showed her there could be more. It showed her what other women might feel when a man touched them. But men didn’t touch her like that. They used her the same as she used them, and she hated him for making her want such tenderness when it was nearly impossible to find. She was better off not knowing how it could be.