The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro. Natalie Anderson

her at last.

      He held his head from hers, teasing. ‘I think we should take things very, very slow.’

      If this was taking things slow, then heaven help her if he decided to speed them up.

      But then he did go slow. Kisses trailed and fingers toyed as he did as he’d promised and kissed her all over her body. As he peeled off her panties and made his way back to the tops of her thighs she couldn’t hold back the squirm—overly aware of what was going to happen.

      ‘Don’t be shy,’ he said calmly.

      She breathed in deep. He was right. Why be shy? This was her afternoon, after all. She reached out a hand, felt the strength of his thigh. Rubbed her fingers through the masculine hair, felt the muscles working underneath it. And found her appetite to explore more was ravenous. How good he felt beneath her fingers—how much better might he feel beneath her lips? So she tried exactly that. Never had she had such a body to explore before—to taste, to delight in. Now she understood why humans sought beauty, marvelled in it, celebrated it.

      Perfection.

      Silently he let her play, she could feel him watching her, feel the tension mounting until he suddenly jerked away from her, pulling open the drawer in the table beside the bed so hard the whole thing fell out. No matter, he had what he wanted, was out of the boxers, had rolled the condom on and she watched and smiled, knowing that soon, soon, soon, she would have all that she wanted.

      He took the lead again, pinning her down with his heavy, strong body. And she poised, waiting for him to move, wanting him to thrust into her.

      But still he didn’t. He smiled, that cheeky, boyish smile, and moved down her body. Doing once more as he’d promised, kissing her with wet, deep kisses all over her body. Only this time he did go all over. Until then he was kissing her there and only there—the most intimate of places. His fingers joining in too until she was rocking and pleading and about to burst. She thrashed, arms raking the sheets, not wanting it to end yet, wanting all of him but unable to hold herself back.

      ‘Don’t fight it,’ he commanded.

      And she couldn’t any more. She gave in to the insistence of his mouth and fingers, lost control completely with a harsh cry. Every limb stretched long, her body arched and taut and then suddenly buckling, writhing as the tension snapped and pleasure pulsed through every cell.

      Even as she was still shuddering he was moving back up her length. Kissing her stomach as it spasmed, then her screaming tight nipples were anointed by his tongue again.

      He was above her now, his hand gently stroking down her jaw. She opened her eyes to find him watching her closely. She could hide nothing from him.

      ‘You were right,’ she panted. ‘That was the best.’

      There was no answering smile. ‘No.’ His eyes bored into hers, intense, serious and incredibly focused. ‘That was just the beginning.’

      The force of it was almost a threat. Half dizzy, she shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I can…’

      She felt him then, hard and thick, probing in her wetness. With a whoosh the fire inside raged back. The tiny moment of calm obliterated as the storm broke.

      His hands cupped her bottom, moving her to accept him, making her mould and melt for him. She cried out at his devastating, overpowering demand.

      ‘You can do it,’ his voice encouraged gently, while his body wielded its mastery.

      What she couldn’t do was hold back any longer. She bent her knees, instinctively opening up more for him. She’d thought she’d been unleashed before but she’d been dreaming. Now she was beyond boundaries. There was nothing left—no thought, no shyness, no self-consciousness, no self-control as she shuddered beneath him, finally absorbing every last inch.

      The rough moan that passed her lips as she arched her back was the result of raw bliss. She sighed, louder, lifting to meet him once more, unable to believe how fantastic he felt. She stroked her hand down the hard strength of his back, kissed the skin nearest to her—up and down the column of his throat, tasting the salt in the hollow of his shoulder, delighting in the way his beautiful, big body locked so completely into hers. She pressed her hips in time to meet his—again and then again, following the rhythm he set, faster and faster until finally they were moving together with a pace that was frantic, the feral sounds from her throat matched by the hoarse grunts from his. Sweat slicked them. Temperatures and sensations spiked so high that in the heat and light and speed of it all there was nothing but brilliance. Her fingers curled into claws, scouring across his skin, making him pummel so hard and so deep and so deliciously that she screamed her way to the stars and beyond.

      ‘Open your eyes.’

      She automatically obeyed. The ceiling was above her. So the world still existed. She hadn’t been sure until then.

      ‘Look at me.’

      She couldn’t ignore the imperative.

      He had slid down the bed a bit, so his body was no longer crushing hers. Dazed, she studied the difference in their colouring. She had come from a cold winter so her skin was pale, whereas his olive complexion had been enhanced in the height of the European summer. Between her legs she could feel his strength, his heart thudding intimately against her thigh.

      He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. Then a sort of smile twisted his lips. ‘You’re very beautiful, Emily.’

      She almost smiled too but couldn’t quite manage it in the tumbling emotional aftermath. ‘Is it always like that for you?’

      ‘No.’

      Of course he would say that. She knew now what a gentleman he was.

      His gaze dropped from hers and he pressed a kiss to her hip. ‘It is never like that.’

      As he spoke the words faint colour stained his cheeks and she was suddenly certain he was speaking the truth. She closed her eyes again, desperately needing to rest, to recover from the sensory overload and to deny the fleeting feeling of regret that there would be no more than this moment. He moved to lie beside her, drawing the sheet up to cover their cooling skin, bringing her head onto his chest and sliding his strong arms around her, giving her trembling body the comfort of a sure embrace.

      She didn’t know how long she slept. It couldn’t have been that long as the sun was still high in the sky. He was awake, watching her with eyes so dark and deep they were almost all black. She didn’t know what to say to him. How could she possibly express the intensity she’d felt?

      But he shook his head slightly as if he knew. There shouldn’t be words; they couldn’t do it justice.

      ‘Shower with me.’ He stood from the bed and as she stared at his magnificent form the urge inside flared once more.

      Her hunger must have been obvious because he smiled. ‘I want to see you come again, Emily.’

      She rose onto all fours, feeling the thrill of power as his eyes widened at the sight of her. ‘Well, I guess that’s up to you.’

      The shower had never been such an exotic, erotic experience. He carried her, still connected to her, back to the bed so he could continue to manipulate her body, making her respond in a way that was fierce and passionate and almost frightening but all incredible.

      For a while they lay, half-dozing, half-wrapped in towels, and through the window she watched the blue of the sky intensify. Finally she stirred, achingly stunned but also content.

      ‘I’d better get back to the hostel.’

      He didn’t argue. In almost companionable silence they dressed. She drifted her way downstairs, uncaring of anyone’s opinion now. None of that mattered—not in the face of this moment of bliss.

      It was only when they were leaving the hotel that he spoke. ‘You fly to London tomorrow?’

      ‘Yes.’ She chose