But that would send her screaming back to Tacoma. Instead, I simply laugh and shake my head as I pour her tea. “You’re very authoritative when it comes to terms of endearment.”
She shrugs and sips her tea. “I like the Italian.”
“And you’ll get it, cara. I’m right here.”
She pops a slice of pineapple in her mouth and watches me speculatively. “What did you mean last night when you said I made you forget your English?”
“Just that,” I reply, and spread strawberry jam on a toasted English muffin. “I didn’t even realize I wasn’t speaking English, I was so lost in you.” This thought seems to make her happy. She smiles softly.
“How long have you spoken English?”
“Since I could speak. My mother raised me to be bilingual.”
She takes in this information while she chews her fruit, then takes a bite of my muffin, licks jam off her lip, and then grins at me.
“So, it was good then?”
“Good?” I shake my head. “No.”
I shake my head again and set her tea on the tray, moving it out of my way so I can scoop her up and pull her into my lap. She wraps her arms around my shoulders. After I left last night, she must have pulled her tank and fresh panties on. Her hair is loose, falling in waves around her face, washed clean of makeup.
She’s so beautiful she makes my heart stop.
“It was—” I slide my fingertip down her temple, then hook her hair behind her ear. “It was the most amazing,” I kiss her lips, “arousing,” kiss her cheek, “life affirming,” kiss her jaw and down to her neck, “time of my life.”
“You should know that if you kiss my neck, I’m not responsible for my actions.”
I grin against the smooth skin of her neck and slide my hands under her tank.
“Challenge accepted, tesoro.”
God, I love it when he’s shirtless. I plunge my fingers into Dom’s hair and hold on tight as his hands move under my tank, up my sides and around to gently cup my breasts, his thumbs barely brushing over my nipples, already puckered and primed for his attention.
“I love the way you touch me,” I murmur against his lips. It’s the honest truth. His hands do things to me that I didn’t even know were possible.
And I’m no virgin.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers, and nibbles his way back down my neck, sending shivers through me.
Sarah Bareilles begins to croon out Gravity through my speakers and I grin softly. “I love this song.”
“It’s appropriate,” he replies before nipping my chin.
He pulls back, cups my ass in his hands, and grinds his hardness against me. “I can’t stay away from you, Alecia. Knowing that you might throw me out of here this morning, I still couldn’t stay away, any more than I can fight gravity.”
And that terrifies me because the feeling is entirely mutual.
Before I can respond, he pushes my tank over my head, tosses it to the floor, and covers my breast with his lips; his hands are roaming my back, his fingertips digging into my flesh deliciously.
His passion is intoxicating. When he touches me, he touches me. There’s no half-way about it, no wondering what he’s thinking.
It’s perfectly clear what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about me.
And fuck if I can think of anything at all but him.
I wrap my legs around his waist and grind my core against him, grinning when he releases a long, low growl. There’s something decidedly thrilling about making a strong, controlled man like Dominic Salvatore come apart at the seams.
He moves quickly, placing me on the bed, grips my panties at my hips and slowly guides them down my legs, tosses them over his shoulder and gazes down at me like I’m a feast and he hasn’t eaten in days.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs and places light kisses on the inside of my thigh, “how beautiful you are? You’re all soft, and warm, and still a bit sleepy, and I’m going to steep myself in you, Alecia.”
I can only bite my lip and watch as he continues to kiss my skin, up one hip, to my belly and between my breasts. My hands roam over his muscled shoulders, arms, back. His skin is smooth and warm and so fucking masculine, I can’t take my eyes off of him. I hook my toes in his shorts and push them down his hips, and he grins down at me roguishly, that sexy dimple in his cheek winking at me.
“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.” My breath catches as his fingertips brush up my side, then down my belly and between my legs, and breathing is out of the question altogether, as his fingers play my pussy like a freaking musical instrument. “Holy shit,” I whisper. His lips are glued to my neck, wreaking all kinds of havoc, and he has the nerve to chuckle as I’m ready to come out of my skin.
“Do you need me to stop?” he asks.
“Don’t you dare,” I say, and grip onto him harder, afraid that he’ll do just that. His fingers are sliding through my folds, spreading my wetness around, and if I wasn’t so damned turned on right now, I might be just a little embarrassed at just how wet I am already.
My hips are moving of their own volition, circling, following his lead. And just as I’m about to fall apart, he stops.
“What the hell?” My eyes fly to his. I expect to find him smiling smugly, but he’s intense and hot, and breathing just as hard as I am. “Why did you stop?”
“I don’t want you to come yet.”
He shakes his head and kisses my cheek gently. “I have a plan.”
“There’s a plan?” I cup his face in my hands and stare up at him as he hovers over me, catching his own breath. His cock is lying, heavy and full, against my belly. “Maybe you should reevaluate the plan.”
“It’s a good plan, tesoro.” His lips nibble mine, almost lazily, and my body is still humming. He buries his hands in my hair and just kisses me for long minutes, softly at first, and then deeply, passionately, rubbing his chest against mine, moving his body over me in an ageless dance. I reach between us to take his cock in my hand, but I only get two good pumps in, and feel the drop of dew with my thumb, before he pulls away, laces his fingers with mine and pins my hand over my head.
“No touching is part of the plan?” I whisper.
“You have me on the edge.”