Bound To The Sicilian's Bed: Bound to the Sicilian's Bed. Annie West

said.

      She saw his features tense as he stroked her hair away from her face and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t. Instead, he began to explore her—his fingers drifting erotic pathways over her body as he reacquainted himself with skin which wouldn’t seem to stop shivering. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and she thought he might rip them off as he’d done so many times before but he didn’t—though she noticed his hand was unsteady as he slid them down over her knees. Greedily, her lips pressed against the silken flesh of his shoulder as she parted her thighs for him.

      ‘Mmm... So responsive,’ he breathed as she arched up towards him. ‘That much never changes, does it, Nicole?’

      But Nicole didn’t want comparisons. She didn’t want a then-and-now scenario, which might alert all those little indicators of pain which she’d blocked but which were just waiting to spring out if she wasn’t careful. And this was supposed to be about pleasure, not pain. So take what you want and give him something in return. Wipe the slate clean so you can walk away from each other and leave the past where it belongs.

      Exploring each of his nipples with a feather-light touch, she enjoyed the muffled groan he gave in response, watching his eyes flutter to a close as she drifted her fingertips down over the taut dip of his belly. She smoothed the symmetrical ridges of his ribs and thought, not for the first time, how magnificent his naked body was, the olive skin glowing invitingly against the whiteness of the sheet. This was a feast for all the senses, she thought. She could taste him and feel him and she could smell him, too—that beguiling scent of bergamot underpinned with a raw masculinity, which she breathed in with each unsteady intake of air.

      Did he hear how erratic her breathing had become? Was that what prompted him to push her back against the pillows so he could bend his head to her breasts, his tongue cleaving a moist path over each tender mound until they were so acutely aroused that she began to writhe impatiently? His teeth grazed over her hardened nipples as his hand moved between her thighs—and Nicole gave a yelp of pleasure as he moved his finger against her moist slickness. And, oh, she had missed this—she was only just realising how much. She could feel the inexorable build of heat and remembered the way she’d almost come apart in his arms when they’d been outside on the terrace earlier that day and, dazedly, she opened her eyes. ‘No,’ she whispered.

      ‘No?’ he echoed incredulously, his accent growing deeper as it always did during moments of intense pleasure. ‘You choose this moment to change your mind?’

      ‘I meant not...not like that,’ she amended breathlessly.

      He understood immediately and in the moonlight she saw hunger darkening his rugged features as he reached for the condom he had taken from his jeans. She watched while he ripped the foil open and stroked the rubber over his aroused length and the intimacy of the simple action was almost her undoing. Because hadn’t he taught her how to do that and to turn it into a kind of erotic foreplay, a task she had happily undertaken? And hadn’t he turned on her that time and asked her if she’d punctured the condom with her fingernails—demanded to know if she’d deliberately tried to get herself pregnant? He’d retracted the accusation immediately but the memory had lingered for a long time afterwards.

      Yet all those dark thoughts vanished the moment he entered her and were replaced by a feeling of such completion that it took Nicole’s breath away. How easily pleasure could conquer pain, she thought. Could make you so helpless that you barely knew who you were any more. Suddenly you forgot you were a wife who was seeking a divorce and became that same blown-away creature who had given her innocence to him so willingly.

      ‘Rocco,’ she said, brokenly.

      He didn’t answer. He was too busy doing all the things he knew she loved best. Hooking her quivering thighs around his hips to angle himself just right. Cupping her buttocks and bringing them towards him—the slick action making his penetration all the deeper. And despite knowing that for him this was nothing more than physical, Nicole was lost. Lost in sensation as one thrust followed another and the sweet and familiar layers began to build. She wanted it to last all night but that was never going to happen—not when she was in such a heightened state of arousal. She’d almost dissolved from the moment he entered her and now she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

      ‘I’m coming,’ she whispered.

      ‘I know you are, tesoro,’ he whispered back, his voice deep and husky.

      The murmured intimacy of that comment broke through the last of her resistance and Nicole felt herself dissolve around him. Through shuddered little gasps she could feel her legs splaying and her back arching. He gave a low growl of appreciation as she began to convulse around him and rogue tears pricked at her eyes as Rocco’s own movements became more urgent. She knew from the tension in his body just how close he was to the edge and she gripped his shoulders as he drove into her like a man possessed. And didn’t she revel in the fact that she could still do this to him? Could still make him moan like that as his body jerked with his own powerful orgasm?

      There was silence in the room afterwards as his dark head lay pressed against her neck. Staring over his shoulder at the moon-dappled ceiling, Nicole wanted to say something reassuring. To make some cool and clever remark which would make him realise this meant nothing to her. Something to reassure him that she wasn’t reading too much into what had been just sex. But instead she found herself whispering the only thing which was on her mind. ‘Rocco.’

      Rocco grew still as he heard her murmur his name like that, trying to regain the control he’d lost from the moment he’d entered her voluptuous body. The way she touched him unsettled him and the way she said his name unsettled him even more because she sounded confused. And wasn’t the truth that he was feeling pretty confused himself? Tangling his fingers in the curls which flowed down her back, he told himself this was all he had wanted. Having her underneath him and hearing her gasp out his name one last time had been the whole point of the exercise. He’d wanted her and now he’d had her—which meant he could just walk away. Could give her the divorce she so desperately wanted and set them both free.