Page 49 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

There was more? He was almost afraid to ask. Almost, but not quite. “And?”

“I touched myself.”

He closed his eyes against the fire rushing through his bloodstream. Not just his dick, his whole body throbbed with heat.

Zoe. Pleasuring herself. Her fingers white-hot blurs against her pussy as she edged closer and closer to climax, finally toppling into oblivion.

Fuck, how he’d love to see that. But it would have to wait for another time. Now he wanted—no, needed—her hands right where they were.

On him.

He forced his eyes open and rested his forehead on hers. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not before I get the chance to do this.”

She followed her hand with her mouth, her warm breath teasing his aching dick, and his world stopped. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this woman, kneeling between his legs with her hand around the base of his hard-on and her lips closing in on the tip.

“Zoe,per favore—”

She flicked her gaze to his and their eyes locked as a wide, self-satisfied smile filled her face. “Who’s begging now?”

He wasn’t too proud to grin back, but the grin disappeared the instant she sucked him in and swallowed him up, never losing eye contact. She swirled her tongue around his throbbing head and moaned, sending a jolt of electricity down his length to his balls. Her free hand came up to give them a delicious squeeze, and he swallowed a gasp, fighting the urge to bury his hands in her hair and thrust into her.

For what could have been minutes or hours, the only sounds in the room were her slurps and his groans, with an occasional outburst of incoherent Italian. She was hot and hungry, relentless in her determination to return the favor and get him off. And he was powerless to do anything but lie there and accept what she so willingly, so beautifully gave to him.

“Zoe,” he croaked. A tidal wave of pleasure began to crest in his groin, threatening to take him under. “I’m coming.”

His hips jerked up and his fingers instinctively reached out to thread through her long locks as the wave swamped him, pushing him over the edge. When he was spent, Zoe eased off him and hopped out of bed like she hadn’t just completely wrecked him.

“In a hurry to get away from me?” he drawled, still too stunned to move.

“Coffee.” Her eyes darted around the room, eventually landing on her long-ago discarded robe draped over the back of a chair. She snatched it up and shrugged it on, pulling the belt so tightly he thought it might cut off her circulation. “I need caffeine. Stat. I don’t suppose this room has one of those fancy cappuccino makers?”

He raised himself up on one elbow. “Carina.”

“Heck, I’d settle for a Keurig.” She paced from one side of the room to the other, like a tiger in Turkish cotton.

“Carina.” He swung his feet over the side of the bed, found his own robe crumpled in a ball on the floor, stuck his arms in the sleeves, and stood, tying the belt.

“Or even one of those crappy hotel coffee machines.”

“Carina.” He stepped in front of her and put both hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “Stop. Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.” She stared at his chest, not meeting his gaze. “I suck at this whole morning-after thing. I mean, the morning sex I can handle, obviously. But I’m never sure how to act when it’s done. Do I grab my stuff and call a cab? Or cook breakfast?”

She was babbling again, and it was fucking adorable. She did that when she was nervous, he’d learned. And he liked that she was a little nervous now. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone in this, that the last twenty-four hours had knocked her for a loop, too.

He curled a finger under her chin, tipping her head up until her eyes met his. His heart gave an unexpected lurch at the uncertainty he saw there. “I don’t want you to call a cab or cook breakfast. But I know a cafe in La Piazzetta that bakes the best breads. We could stop there for some cappuccino andcornetti.”

“Cornetti?”

“Like croissants, but sweeter.”

“They sound delicious. But—” She bit her lip.

His brows knotted. “But what?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a split second, like she was gearing herself up to deliver bad news. When she spoke, the words tumbled one over the other like circus clowns piling out of one of those tiny cars. “But what about after?”