Her hands explored his shoulders. His chest. She kissed his throat, touched her tongue to the hollow where he knew his heart must be racing.
“Nicolo,” she whispered, and her fingers brushed the tip of his straining erection.
He let her explore him, loving her touch, her caution, her, yes, her innocence, but when her hand closed around him, he knew it was time to take control of her and of himself.
“No,” he said roughly and caught her wrists, pinned them high over her head, held her captive to his lips, his teeth, his kisses until she was sobbing with need.
“Please,” she whispered, “please…”
Nicolo tore off his pajama bottoms, kicked them away. Knelt between his wife’s thighs and kissed that tender flesh. She cried out, arched to him again and he brushed the back of his hand over the honey-colored curls that guarded her femininity.
Aimee cried out. Bucked under him and he caught her wrists again, this time in one hand, and used the other to touch her.
She was wet.
Fragrant with arousal.
She was sobbing. Pleading. And he—he was going to explode if he didn’t take her soon.
Her clitoris was swollen with passion and when he finally let go of her wrists, slipped his hands under her bottom and brought her to his mouth, her taste was exquisite.
Aimee cried out and he moved up her body, spread her thighs wide and she wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Now,” he said, and entered her on a long, hard thrust.
Her cry was high and sweet and all he had ever yearned for. He surged forward again and she screamed, flung her head back and came apart in his arms again and again as he held her, as he caught her mouth with his and drank in her sobs.
“Nico,” she whispered against his mouth and he shot over the edge, let go of who he was, who he had been, all of it lost in the warm, welcoming body of his wife.
A lifetime later, Nicolo stirred. Aimee was still beneath him and he began to roll away from her, but she put her arms around him and held him close.
“Stay,” she whispered.
He wanted to. He would stay like this forever, if he could.
“I’m too heavy for you, cara mia.”
“I don’t care.”
She sounded so determined, it made him smile.
“Let’s try reversing things.” He rolled onto his back and took her with him so that she was sprawled on top of him. “How’s that?”
She gave the kind of long sigh that reached straight into his heart.
“It’s wonderful.”
Oh, it was. More than wonderful, he thought, wrapping his arms even more tightly around her. They lay that way for a few minutes, until his heartbeat and hers had slowed. Then he cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth to his for a tender kiss.
“Are you all right?” he said softly.
Her lips curved against his. “I’m very all right.”
Nicolo grinned. “I agree completely, Principessa. In fact…” Another kiss, longer than the last. “You are wonderfully all right.
“I liked what you called me,” he said, stroking the curls back from her face.
Aimee propped her chin on her hands. “What I called you?”