The Sicilian's Innocent Mistress

The fact that she had decided to continue with the deception of her supposed illness had brought out a need for retribution in him. Hence the deliberately precarious cling film wrap on the ice cubes…

‘Now, why on earth would you even suggest that I should deliberately cause those ice cubes to fall?’ he asked with feigned innocence.

Darci didn’t know—surely Luc couldn’t have guessed that her excuse about being ill in order to avoid their date this evening had been a complete fabrication?—she was only sure that he had.

‘Because—Well, because—’ She broke off as Luc took another step towards her, taking a step back herself as she easily read the intent in those dark, compelling eyes.

Luc Gambrelli was going to kiss her!

‘I told you not to even think about it!’ she warned sharply as, her gaze fixed on his, she continued to back away—only to come to an abrupt halt as her back hit the wall.

Leaving her trapped by the obviously determined Luc Gambrelli.

‘Stay away from me,’ she told him breathlessly, eyes wide with apprehension as he continued to move stealthily towards her.

Like the stalking predator he was…

‘Are you sure that’s what you really want, Darci?’ he questioned, and he took the two steps that brought him to stand dangerously close to her.

Darci wasn’t sure of anything any more—except that she didn’t dare allow Luc Gambrelli to kiss her.

Because, against all reasoning, all her inner warnings that this man was a consummate flirt, as well as being a selfish playboy, she wanted him to kiss her!

Her body ached with wanting to feel his hard sculptured lips against hers, her nipples were tingling with awareness, and her inner thighs were warm—becoming warmer by the second!

‘I didn’t think so, Darci,’ he said, his gaze steadily holding hers as he reached out to smooth her hair back over her shoulders, before stroking his fingertips from the hollows at the base of her throat down to the valley between her breasts.

She couldn’t breathe—had forgotten how to breathe!—as the touch of those lean, caressing fingers seemed to burn against her flesh. She was completely mesmerised as Luc’s head slowly lowered to hers and he claimed her lips with his—gently, softly, enticingly—sipping from her lips, parting them with the tip of his tongue. The hardness of his thighs, pressed intimately against hers, told her of his own arousal…

Darci had no idea what was happening to her as her body curved weakly into his, was only aware that in Luc’s arms she had become someone different, someone she didn’t recognise. Her body felt full and lush, her breasts and thighs sensitive to his pressing demand, all of her senses now screaming for his intimate touch.

As his lips became heated on hers, as he deepened this kiss and his hand moved to cup beneath one throbbing breast, his thumb stroking unerringly across the hardened tip, Darci forgot everything and everyone else, able only to feel and taste Luc.

Her hands were crushed against his chest, against warm skin and solid muscle, and every inch of him was hard male as his mouth continued to plunder and capture hers, his tongue seeking out every secret as it probed and caressed and duelled with hers. Her throat arched instinctively as he broke that kiss to trail moist kisses against that sensitive column, down to the creamy swell of her breasts, his hands now busy with the buttons down the front of her pyjama jacket.

He looked up, his gaze easily holding hers captive as he peeled the sides of the jacket back, his eyes darkening appreciatively as he finally looked down at the naked fullness of her breasts.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he groaned achingly, and his head lowered.

Darci barely had time to draw in a ragged breath before his mouth closed moistly over one turgid nipple, drawing its fullness into his warmth as his tongue licked and stroked its ultra-sensitive tip and his other hand captured its twin, to caress and roll the peak between his fingertips. Waves of restless need washed over her as she felt herself swelling, as hot moisture pulsed between her thighs.

Luc had never tasted anything, anyone, as delicious as Darci. Her breast was pure nectar as he drank his fill of her with his lips and tongue, as he laved her nipple, sucking harder on that dusky tip as she held his head cradled against her and he heard her throaty groans of pleasure.