Castelli's Virgin Widow by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

KATHRYN TENSED, BUT Luca only pulled out slowly and then pressed back in, far more gently this time.

It didn’t hurt. It felt...strange, but that was better than the pain.

“Breathe,” he told her, in that bossy way of his that shouldn’t have made something ignite inside her. But she did it anyway.

She pulled in a deep breath and let it out, and still he moved inside her. Lazy. Relaxed. An easy sort of rocking.

Slowly, almost despite herself, Kathryn began to anticipate him. She met him when he thrust in, moving her hips in a way that made a low, shimmering thing dance inside her.

His mouth curved, and she thought that later—much later—she would have to examine why it was that it made her flush with so much pleasure.

He maintained that same lazy pace, and let his hands wander where they pleased. He smoothed his way up her back. He tested the thrust of her breasts through the dress that was still bunched around her waist. He reached beneath it and drew patterns on the soft skin of her belly, on the outsides of her thighs.

Kathryn found herself moving more, rolling her hips and testing the depth of his stroke. This dragged the center of her against him, and it made everything inside her wind up tight. That made a sweet shudder work its way up her spine. She tried different movements, wriggling against him and rocking into him, and he let her, only that heavy-lidded heat in his dark eyes and the faint flush high on his cheekbones a hint that he felt the same fire she did.

And slowly, surely, inevitably, she forgot that anything had ever hurt her. There was nothing but the glide, the pull. The bright heat that expanded the deeper he went into her and the more she met each thrust.

There was a coiling thing inside her, huge and terrifying, and Kathryn didn’t know which she wanted more—to hide from it or throw herself straight into its center. And in any case, it didn’t matter. Because Luca let out a delicious little laugh as if he knew exactly what she felt, and took control.

He pulled her hips flush with his. He took her mouth in a deep, dark, endless kiss. And he began to move within her in earnest, each slick thrust making that coil wind tighter, making it bigger and wilder and that much more intense.

And she couldn’t. She couldn’t—

“You can,” he said against her mouth, and she realized she’d said that out loud. “You will.”

And he shifted beneath her, then ran his clever fingers down to the place they were joined, and rubbed.

The next time he thrust inside her, she imploded. A brilliant, impossible shattering that rolled out from the place where he maintained that demanding pace, tearing her soul from her body and her limbs apart.

She heard him groan out her name, his mouth against her neck, and then he toppled right over that same cliff beside her.

And for a very long time, that was all there was.

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