Never Underestimate a Caffarelli (Those Scandalous Caffarellis 2)

Her lips shifted in an uncertain-looking on-off smile. ‘I guess I should let you get back to bed...’

‘Stay.’

She blinked a couple of times. ‘Stay?’

‘Talk to me. Keep me company. Distract me.’

She rolled her lips together. ‘I don’t think that’s part of my job description...’

‘I don’t want you to stay here as my physical therapist.’ He held her gaze with his. ‘Stay for another reason.’

The tip of her tongue made a nervous dart out over her lips. ‘What other reason could there be?’

He brought her closer, his mouth coming down to within a breath of hers. ‘Think of one.’ And then he covered her mouth with his.

* * *

It was a very good reason. The best possible reason. Lily couldn’t think of any better reason to be in his bedroom and in his arms being kissed so soundly other than that it was exactly where she wanted to be.

His arms gathered her close to his body, his mouth moving on hers with devastatingly erotic expertise. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking against hers, teasing it into duelling with his. Her belly flipped like a pancake as he deepened the kiss even further.

He pressed her backwards on the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his lips and tongue working their magic on hers. ‘You taste so damn good,’ he groaned against her mouth.

Lily kissed him back with all the passion that had been ignited that evening of the picnic. It had been ignited from the first moment she had met him—that instant spark of attraction, that magnetic pull, that irresistible lure of polar opposites.

The need she felt for him was a throbbing ache that pulsed between her legs. She had never been more aware of her body. He had awakened the dormant sensations, making them explode like fireworks in front of a raw flame.

His hands moved over her, shaping her breasts, touching her, tantalising her with the promise of more. Her nipples were tight and sensitive, her flesh hungry for the hot, wet swirl of his tongue and the sexy graze of his teeth.

She gave a gasp as he pushed up her pyjama top, his hands warm and sure on her body. She shivered as his mouth closed over her nipple, the sucking motion making every hair on her head lift up at the roots. He was gentle yet determined, drawing from her a response she had not thought she was capable of giving. Her body writhed beneath his, looking for more connection, for flesh on flesh, for satiation.

‘I don’t want to rush you,’ he said.

‘You’re not rushing me.’ She kissed him, once, twice, three times. ‘I want this. I want you.’

He smiled against her lips. ‘At least this time I’m a bit better prepared.’

‘Down at the lake... I thought you didn’t want me.’

He pulled back to look down at her. ‘How could you possibly think that?’

Lily looked at a point of stubble on his chin rather than meet his eyes. ‘I thought it must be because of my scars. I guess I’m not used to men who are responsible enough to stop and think about using protection.’

He tipped up her chin. ‘Not all men are irresponsible and selfish, ma petite. And you should stop worrying about your scars. They don’t define you as a person. It’s your behaviour, not your appearance, that does that.’

She touched his bottom lip with her fingertip. ‘You’ve always dated such exquisitely beautiful women.’

‘Some of the most beautiful women I’ve been with have also been the most boring. You, on the other hand, are captivating, intriguing and utterly irresistible.’ He brought his mouth back to hers, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips until she forgot about her insecurities and thought of nothing but how he made her feel.

He made her feel good. Alive.

On fire.

Lily touched his chest, sliding her hands down over his taut abdomen shyly, hesitantly. She felt him suck in a breath as her hand came to the top of his groin. She felt the smooth head of his erection bump against her hand and a tight fist of intense longing grabbed at her insides.

She couldn’t stop herself from exploring him. He was so thick and full, so strong yet contained. She had never really thought of a man’s body as beautiful before, or at least not this part of a man’s body. She ran her fingertip over the moist tip of his penis, that most primal signal of readiness. She felt her own intimate moisture; it was a silky reminder that she was just as aroused as he was. ‘I want you inside me...’