CHAPTER 21 #2
“Of course,” I say and then steal her words with a ravenous kiss. “We’ll be sneaky. Just this trip.”
She laughs softly, arms sliding around my neck, pulling me closer as her lips trail along my jaw, my throat.
“We’re not making it to the spa,” I chuckle.
“Better than the spa,” she murmurs, sucking gently at the sensitive spot behind my ear.
That’s it. That sound. That touch. I groan and grind into her, unable to stop myself. She moans in answer, open-mouthed kisses dragging down my neck, her body lining up with mine perfectly, deliberately.
Oh, my woman. She knows exactly how to undo me.
I turn us in one smooth motion, hike her legs around my waist, and carry her to the bed. I tear her clothes off like restraint has never been invented. My mouth claims hers again as my kisses trail down her throat, her collarbone.
The hollow there - that’s the only place I’m gentle.
I suck softly, open-mouthed, then circle with my tongue before sucking again. She moans, louder this time, arching into me.
My fingers trace her face, her neck, then slide back to her mouth. I press one finger between her lips. She sucks it slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving mine, while I kiss my way down her body.
I rake my teeth over her breasts, earning a sharp shiver, then soothe the marks with my mouth. Down. Further. More slowly.
She smells like sunshine and smoke and leather, and it drives me feral. I abandon everything else.
My tongue lashes against her clit, and I eat her like a man starving. Her hips rock against my face, my mouth, desperate. I plunge my tongue inside her, again and again, and she cries out, hands tangling in my hair, holding me there as she lifts herself to give me more.
She tastes incredible. The sight of her - open, offering - nearly makes me come straight in my pants. I clamp down on my control.
I suck harder, tongue thrusting deep, and when her thighs lock around my head, one more stroke sends her over the edge. She shatters. I cover her mouth with my hand, muffling her scream as her body convulses beneath me, riding out every shudder.
When she finally stills, I rise slowly, devouring her with my eyes. She takes my hand from her mouth, kisses my fingers one by one, then lets it fall to her side.
She props herself up on her elbows, eyes dark, commanding. “Inside me.”
I don’t look away as I roll on a condom. I guide myself to her entrance and push in inch by inch, making her take every bit of me slowly, torturously. I stretch her, sink deeper, until I’m buried to the hilt.
She’s utterly mine.
I move slowly, dragging out, pushing back in. The heat. The friction. The way she fits me, so tight, so slick, so perfect.
I moan. Again. Slow. Deep.
Out and in. Slow. Deep
“Make it up to me, Edoardo,” she whispers. “Now.”
I roll my hips and sink into her again, our moans tangling together.
“God,” she gasps. “That feels so good.”
My hand grips her hip. I thrust slowly again. “More, Edoardo. More.”
Everything narrows to sensation. Her. Us.
“Let me fuck you like this a little longer,” I murmur, though her eyes are already fluttering closed.
I change the angle. Pull out completely. Then push all the way back in slowly and deliberately. My hands cup her breasts, squeezing as I move. We moan and curse together, sweat-slicked, lost.
“Oh God,” she cries, surging up to cling to my neck. “So fucking good.”
“I could die doing this to you,” I groan.
I draw back and snap into her again, keeping the deep, slow, relentless rhythm, my hands exploiting her breasts, her nipples. She spills filthy, broken sounds that I could drown in.
“Faster,” she begs. “Harder. Please.”
I sink into her one last slow time, then pull out and drive back in fast. She cries out in approval. My hands grip her hips, holding her still as I pound into her, harder, faster, claiming her.
“You see stars yet?” I bite at her ear as I slam into her.
She swivels her hips, trying to meet me, but I keep her pinned, pounding her deeper and faster. Her arms fly back to brace against the mattress, body open, taking everything I give.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re so tight.”
Pleasure shoots through every cell of my body as I fuck her relentlessly, savage and hungry, swallowing her cries with my mouth. We’re a sweaty, panting mess, bodies colliding, breaths torn from our lungs.
Caroline whimpers into my mouth. She’s close. I am, too.
I drive my hips into her hard. I thrust deep and brutal, fingers finding her clit, stroking exactly where she needs it. She cries out a sharp and shattered sound, then comes apart beneath me.
I thrust into her with reckless need and follow her over the edge, groaning, trembling, pressed fully into her, clutching her. For a suspended, incandescent moment, nothing exists but us.
I don’t let go until the tremors ease, until our breathing finds something resembling a rhythm. Only then do I roll us onto our sides. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, her body still humming. She looks ruined in the most satisfying way.
Mine.
I pull her close, fitting her against my chest as though she’s always belonged there. We stay tangled together, skin warm, limbs lazy, sharing that hazy afterglow where time feels optional.
Eventually, I murmur, “So. What else happened with Connor—besides the breakup with Celina?”
Caroline exhales softly, her breath ghosting across my skin. “Celina didn’t give him a second chance,” she says. “I’ve been flying back and forth nonstop, trying to keep him steady. Trying to keep him from spiraling.”
“Exhausting.” I say lightly.
She hums in agreement.
“And what’s your plan with Celina?” I ask, tracing idle patterns along her back.
“She’s still considering my offer,” Caroline says. “I want her working privately for me. In London. Chief of staff.”
I tilt my head. “And Connor?”
She sighs. “That’s… complicated. Gigi and I don’t know if we should tell him at all. Even saying her name would drag him to London instantly, and he’s not ready. He can’t heal like that.” A pause. “And Celina won’t take him back. She’s stubborn.”
I smile and kiss her hair. “That’s your favorite kind of person.”
“Smart, loyal, stubborn,” she agrees, nestling closer. “Yes. I like Celina a lot.”
I let a beat pass. Then, casually - “One more thing.”
She chuckles. “Uh-oh.”
“Why do they call you Kitty?”
“Cara,” she corrects, pushing herself up on one elbow and looking down at me with a wicked smirk. “That’s what my parents and Connor call me.” Her eyes narrow playfully. “How long have you been wondering that? Since that dinner with Ethan in Manhattan?”
I shrug. “I’ve been patient.”
She laughs. “Connor started calling me Kitty in middle school to tease me. Then Adam and Ethan picked it up in undergrad. I threaten violence. They find it adorable.”
“I’m beginning to understand the appeal,” I say.
She arches a brow. “Careful.”
“So, you’ve known Connor since middle school?”
“Yep, I grew up in London. We moved to San Francisco when I was entering sixth grade. Connor was my first friend and our houses were only a few blocks apart.”
“Why the move?” I ask.
She stiffens, just barely, and recovers smoothly.
“Do you have a nickname?” she counters.
“No,” I say. “I’ve somehow avoided one.”
“Unacceptable,” she declares, reaching for her phone. “Let me fix that.” Her thumbs fly as she grins. “Tenebroso. Misterioso. Un tipo enigmatico.”
I squint at her. “Are you mocking me?”
“You were very broody when we met,” she says innocently. “You seemed to waiver between disliking me and silently judging me.”
“You’re lying,” I say, flicking her nose. “You knew I liked you.”
She laughs and swats my hand away. “I was deeply convinced that you did not like me. So many mixed messages.”
I murmur. “Maybe I can convince you otherwise?”
Her smile turns slow and dangerous. “I’m listening.”
“I thought you might.” My hands make the case for me: unhurried, confident, reminding her exactly how attentive I can be.
She arches into me and when our mouths meet again, everything else fades. There’s only heat, laughter muffled between kisses, and the shared understanding that we’re very bad at stopping once we start.
We never make it to the spa.
And we barely make it back to ourselves in time for dinner.