Ache For You

47

That he’d break me and make me beg before he’d give me everything I never knew I needed.

When I’m silent too long, he softly warns, “Kimber.”

My uterus pulls the final plug on my brain functions. I breathe, “Yes,” and stand on my toes and kiss him.

He allows it just long enough for my n*****s to tighten and begin to ache until he takes control back and pulls away. He keeps my face in one of his hands. The other he flattens against my chest. He spreads his big hand wide, the heel of his palm resting at the top swell of my breasts and his fingers flared out, as if he’s claiming the space.

When he kisses the corner of my mouth, I close my eyes and give myself over to sensation.

He nips my lower lip, taking it between his teeth and then gently sucking on it. He slips his tongue into my mouth with soft, delicious suction, using that hand on my chest to hold me back when I become impatient, leaning into him because I want more. I want it deeper.

Against my mouth, he murmurs, “Sei cosí dolce.”

I’m wet and throbbing between my legs. I want him to do the earlobe-sucking thing down there. I squeeze my thighs together restlessly, and he chuckles again.

“Voglio mettere la mia faccia tra le tue gambe.”

“Are you . . . are you talking dirty to me?”

He slants me a heated look and smiles.

Oh dear sweet lord in heaven. That burning smell is my panties going up in smoke.

He takes my mouth again. This time his kiss is deeper, the way I wanted it. It’s searching. Needing. I slide my arms up his chest and over his shoulders and sink my fingers into all that glorious thick hair, using it to pull him even closer. We’re both breathing hard through our noses.

He slides his hand down from my chest to the side of my ribs. When his thumb nudges my hard n****e, it sends a shock wave through my lower body. I moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “I want to suck on this,” he whispers, breathing raggedly, stroking his thumb lazily back and forth across my n****e. “I want to pinch it and suck on it and lick it. I want to test it with my teeth, see how much pressure you can take before you squirm.”

I’m panting now. Literally panting, like a dog. Cornelia’s got nothin’ on me.

But Mr. Hot Dirty Talk isn’t done yet.

Right into my ear, in a tone somehow both hard and soft, he says, “I want to take off all your clothes and get you naked underneath me, spread you out on a bed so I can see all that beautiful skin. I want to put my face between your legs and eat your sweet p***y until you’re hoarse from screaming and limp from coming. Then I want to slide my hard c**k deep inside you and f**k you, bella.”

His hand tightens around my breast. He flexes his hips, dragging the fabric of my panties across my engorged c******s, making me shudder.

His voice turns rough. “I want to f**k you until you forget everyone and everything else but me. Until you’re satisfied. Until you’re mine.”

The kiss we share is explosive. It’s hard and passionate and almost sloppy, our teeth clashing and both of us making animal sounds as we claw at each other in greed.

“Wait—wait.”

Panting, I push him away. We stare at each other for a beat as my brain reboots and I once more become capable of rational thought. “You’re using my designs.”

He licks his lips, shakes his head a little as if to clear it. “What?”

“My designs. From my sketch pad. You’re using them in your new collection. Right?”

There’s a long silent moment where he simply looks at me and breathes raggedly. Then, through gritted teeth, he says, “Yes.”

I shove him away, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and curse. Loudly. It echoes off the stone walls. “I don’t want you to. Don’t.”

He straightens his tie. Smooths his hair. Says casually, “Are we negotiating?”

Between him and Brad, it’s a miracle I haven’t committed murder already. “You know, you have to go to sleep at some point. But you don’t necessarily have to wake up.”

He ignores my threat on his life. “Here’s my offer you didn’t want to hear earlier: a kiss for every page I return.”

When I don’t respond, because I’m too breathless, he smirks. “Not a peck on the cheek, either. A kiss like the one we just shared.”

A wave of hurt makes tears well in my eyes. How could he? How could he do this to me? Today, of all days, when I’m the most vulnerable I’ve ever been?

I whisper, “When I’m telling my best friend the story of the exact moment I went from disliking you and distrusting you to hating you, this will be it.”

His eyes flash with emotion, but he quickly regains control of whatever he was feeling. His handsome face becomes a cold mask. He says flatly, “There are twenty-six designs in that sketch pad. I’ll give you credit for the kiss we just had, plus the kiss at your father’s shop. That leaves twenty-four. I’ll leave it up to you when we start, but we’ll have to be done by the night before the shows in Milan.”

I stare at him with my mouth open. “That’s three weeks.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Better get started.”

I’m somehow hot and cold at the same time. I’m sweating, but shivering. The shivering could be fury. “I’ll tell everyone. I’ll make sure everyone knows those designs are mine. I’ll call the press—”

“Really? You want more press?” His gaze on mine is level.