Claiming His One-Night Child. Jackie Ashenden

push-pull of him inside her...to the coil of pleasure that was tightening and tightening and tightening.

      Her skin felt raw and over-sensitive, the desperation inside her growing teeth. She hadn’t thought sex would be like this, that she’d be so feverish and hungry. That she’d be so desperate.

      The room was cool and yet she’d broken out into a sweat, her palms damp on his chest. A moan escaped her, because somehow he was dictating the pace now, the movement of his hips faster, her body trying to catch up, chasing some kind of glory she didn’t understand and which agonisingly kept moving out of reach.

      ‘Touch yourself,’ he murmured, his rich voice rough with dark heat, no trace of the polished playboy in it now. ‘Do it now.’

      And she found herself obeying him without hesitation, driven by her own hunger, moving her hand between her thighs and touching her own slick flesh. And as she did so he lifted his hips, thrusting up hard into her.

      Pleasure suddenly detonated like a bomb, and she cried out, throwing back her head, feeling herself come apart in the most incredible blaze of light.

      Dimly she felt his body tense, another roughened growl escaping him, but she couldn’t seem to focus on that, not when her whole body was busy being flooded with such sharp, intense ecstasy.

      As it faded, she fell forward onto his hard chest and for a second or two simply relaxed there, her cheek against his hot skin, breathing in the delicious scent of sandalwood, salt and musk. It was like lying on a rock in the sun and she wanted to close her eyes and drift, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. The sound was reassuring in some way, as powerful and enduring as the sea...

      ‘Kitten,’ Dante Cardinali said, his deep voice echoing through her.

      The delicious warmth was fading, the feeling of reassurance going out like the tide, leaving her cold and shaking, and not in a good way.

      Her arms trembled as she pushed herself up and met the darkness of his gaze staring back.

       What have you done? You were supposed to kill him, not get into power games. And you definitely weren’t supposed to have sex with him.

      Shame flooded through her, crushing her. This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

      ‘Stella,’ Dante said.

      But she couldn’t stand being in this room a second longer, surrounded by the ruins of her mission and the evidence of her weakness.

      She slid off him, pulling on her dress and underwear with shaking hands, pausing only to grab the little clutch she’d brought with her. Then she moved quickly to the door on legs that felt as if they might give way at any moment.

      ‘Stella,’ Dante repeated, more forcefully this time.

      But she didn’t turn. She couldn’t bear to look at him.

      She opened the door and fled, the sound of him roaring her name one last time ringing in her ears.