I had wanted to show him how much I loved him but he was on top of me, sweeping long strokes of his broad fingers up and down my skin, planting gentle sucking kisses next to my aching core, my heavy breasts. He was worshipping me with his body, playing mine like the finest instrument and I wondered if this was his way of telling me how he felt. If he was loving me with his body in the only way he knew how. When he finally place
d an open-mouthed kiss on my pulsing center, I unraveled, long and slow like a ball of yarn rolling across the floor.
When I opened my eyes a minute later, he was looking down at me with an inscrutable expression and mildly frantic eyes. I didn’t know what was bothering him but I knew how to help him. Grabbing his ears to pull him in for a long tangling kiss, I opened my legs and wrapped them around his pelvis, tipping my hips in order to open myself to him. He pulled back when he was poised at my entrance, panting slightly, his eyes unfocused but intent on mine. Only then did he slowly push inside me, not stopping until he was as deep as I could take him.
“Tell me,” he ordered softly, pressing his forehead to mine as he rolled his hips.
I gasped.
“Tell me,” he repeated, withdrawing from me completely, leaving me achingly empty.
I arched my spine to bring him back to me but his pained expression made me realize what he wanted from me. Still, I waited until he thrust into me again, all the way. He waited for me to speak, keeping me on the edge with those long, smooth strokes until finally, when I was quivering and whimpering with need, I whispered, “I love you.”
He slammed back into me with a guttural moan, triggering my orgasm and his own. I clutched him to me, unwilling to relinquish the feel of his body against my own. He murmured something against my hair and pulled me into his arms as he rolled over. I wrapped one leg between his and tucked my head under his chin, bringing as much of my body into contact with his as I could. Because I already knew that in a few hours, as soon as the sun rose, I would be walking away from Sinclair forever.
****
Thank you for reading The Affair! If you enjoyed the book, please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer and on Goodreads!
Love,
Giana Darling
Read on for an excerpt of The Secret, the second book in The Evolution of Sin.
The Secret: Chapter One.
The waiting area in front of the arrival gates was crowded with people waiting for loved ones and before I was even fully past the sliding glass doors, a wonderful voice, rich and decadent like a spoonful of chocolate ganache, called out to me.
“Giselle, mi amore!”
Cosima Lombardi was one of the lucky ones. Easily the most beautiful person I had ever seen, she crossed the crowded space on strong strides, her waist-length onyx hair floating behind her and attracting the glances of everyone in the terminal. Oblivious to it, she enveloped me in her long, thin arms and pressed me close to her body, so that I was flush against her famous curves. This was the way a woman like Cosima Lombardi hugged, no boundaries, and no embarrassment, just passion.
She pulled away only enough to regard me with startlingly long-lashed eyes the colour of melted butter. “I’ve missed you, mi amore.”
It was still hard to believe a woman like this could be my sister.
“I missed you too, Cosi.” I dragged in a deep breath of her spicy scent and instantly felt at ease. “But you didn’t have to pick me up, I thought you had some work thing tonight?”
As one of the hottest young models on the fashion scene since Karl Lagerfeld championed Cara Delevingne, she was constantly working.
She swished one caramel hand through the air, the gold bangles on her wrist just as musical as her mild Italian accent. “My sister comes before work, Gigi, you should know that. I haven’t seen you in seven months and two weeks.” Her frown was fierce, and it was obvious to me why photographers loved her face as devotedly as they did.
“Excuse me.” A teenage girl, no older than fifteen, approached us with barely concealed excitement, dragging her embarrassed father behind her. “Are you Cosima Lombardi?”
My sister smiled genuinely at them and extended her long fingered hand. “Hello darling.”
She winked at the awkward father and leaned over to give the strange girl a kiss on each cheek.
“Wow,” the teenager gushed, and I smiled as my sister obligingly took a picture with both father and daughter.
There was no one in the world I loved more than my sister, and it felt good to watch her interact with the people who approached her for her face and fame become enchanted with her warmth.
I was still smiling when she returned to my side and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’m sorry about that. Now, tell me absolutely everything I’ve missed in the last seven and a half months.”
The shadow of Christopher crossed my thoughts but I stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. There were only two other people in the world who knew the truth about why I was returning to New York after years abroad, and I intended to keep it that way, no mater how much I loved my sister.
“Your life is much more interesting, Ms. Sports Illustrated.”