Page 47 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

His words made her weak in the knees. It was a good thing she was sitting down, or she would’ve been in a boneless heap at his sexy bare feet.

Damn this man. This was supposed to be a quick, emotionless roll in the hay. A way for them to scratch a mutual itch. Now he was spouting poetry and acting all sweet and sensitive. How was a girl supposed to escape with her heart intact?

Before she could ponder that disturbing thought further, his hands moved to her shoulders. With excruciating slowness, he inched her robe down her arms until it was bunched at her waist.

“Lie back,” he growled.

“Bossy, aren’t we?” He’d gone from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Christian Grey faster than you could say book boyfriend. Still, almost unconsciously, she complied, stretching out on the big bed.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice raw and rough. “Taking orders?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I guess it depends on who’s giving them and what they’re asking me to do.”

“Then we’ll have to play it by ear. If there’s anything you don’t like, tell me. We’re in this together. It will be better if we’re on the same page.”

He stood to remove his robe, and she propped herself up on her elbows to enjoy the view. Sure, she’d seen him naked that first day. But then she’d been too embarrassed to do more than give him a way-too-quick once-over. Now she had license to ogle freely, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

She drank him in—smooth, olive skin stretched taut over hard muscle, backlit by the moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains that covered the sliding glass doors. He was like a work of art, sculpted from living, breathing flesh and bone instead of cold, unfeeling marble.

And for tonight, he was hers.

Her gaze drifted predictably south to the area between his legs. His cock stood at attention, long, thick, and mouthwatering, pointing at her like some sort of divining rod. He took it in his hand and stroked it, readying himself for her, and she was suddenly struck by a terrifying thought.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

He bent to retrieve his robe, fished his wallet out of the pocket, and rifled through it for what seemed like an eternity, finally extracting a foil packet.

“Found one,” he said, holding it up like a trophy.

“Just one?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled as he ripped the packet open and rolled the condom down his impressive length. “There are other ways I can make you feel good.”

Zoe’s previously only marginally functioning brain cells shorted out completely. Could a woman orgasm just from listening to sinful things spoken in a sexy, gravelly Italian accent? Not asking for a friend.

She spread her legs and lifted her knees, her body subconsciously beckoning him to join her.

“Later I’m going to take my time,” he said, climbing onto the bed and fitting his big, beautiful body against hers. “Savor every delectable inch of your skin with my fingers, lips, and tongue. But right now, I need to be inside you.”

“Yes,” she panted, sucking in air that was thick and heavy with arousal. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg,carina. I’m right with you.”

She dimly registered the new nickname, but any thought of what it translated to or what significance it might have vanished when he sank into her. The last few strands of her already shredded self-control ripped away along with it, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper, faster, harder. Her hands found their way to his chest, her fingers exploring the hills and valleys of his pecs and abs as he rocked against her.

“You feel so perfect,” he said. “So tight and wet.”

He pulled out and plunged in again, hitting that spot that made her moan with desire. Her hands shifted to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he continued the delicious in-and-out torture. She needed something real, something solid to anchor her or she’d float away on a wave of pure pleasure.

His pace slowed, and she moaned again, this time with frustration. “I’m so close. Don’t stop. For the love of all things good and holy, don’t stop.”

He obeyed, picking up the tempo. One subtle swivel of his hips and she started to buck and shudder beneath him until she tensed in his arms, crying out his name. Within seconds of her release, he was shaking, groaning, finally collapsing on top of her and rolling to his side, taking her with him.

They stayed that way, with him still inside her, as their heartbeats returned to normal and their breathing evened out. He brushed her sex-mussed hair out of her face and kissed her softly, gently, awakening a realization that shook her even more than the mind-numbing orgasm she’d just experienced.

He wasn’t the only one in deep.

Chapter Ten