Page 144 of My Italian Love Affair

I slide my hand down, pressing my fingers firmly between her legs, rubbing slow, firm circles against her through the denim.

She gasps, and I grin.

"I canfeelit."

Her head tips back against the lockers, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, andfuck, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

I drag my lips down the column of her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin as my fingers keep moving.

Even through the fabric, I can feel her getting wet beneath my touch, and I just about manage to hold back from rippingher jeans down her legs and getting a real taste of her.

"You’re such an asshole," she whispers breathlessly against my mouth.

"And you love it," I rasp, nipping at her jaw.

Her hands move frantically over my chest, pushing my shirt up.

"Matteo," she breathes, barely audible.

"Say it again," I murmur, my voice thick with amusement as my fingers press harder against her.

She shudders, a barely-restrained sound catching in the back of her throat, andfuck, I want to hear more. I want to hear herfall apart.

I slide my hand higher, curling my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans, teasing the soft, warm skin there.

She sucks in a breath, her hips shifting instinctively against me, chasing more friction.

"You want me to stop?" I murmur against her skin, deliberately slowing my movements. "Just say the word,bella."

Silence.

Sheshouldstop me, but shewon’t.

And I know it.

I feel the way she grips my shoulders, the way her legs shift apart just slightly, the way her breathing goes completely uneven beneath my touch, and I lean in closer, pressing my lips against the shell of her ear.

"You’re mine now,giornalista," I whisper.

And this time, she doesn’t argue.

I move without thinking. My hands flex against the soft skin beneath her blouse, gripping and savouring, and then I shift, guiding her back until her thighs hit the edge of the wooden bench.

She barely has time to react before I press forwards, urging her down. My body follows hers, caging her in as she sinks onto the surface beneath me.

The overhead lights cast sharp, angular shadows across her face, highlighting the way her green eyes are blown wide, the way her lips part slightly, the way her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

Ishouldbe smug.

She’s laid out beneath me, breathless, pulse racing, aching for me.

But I’m not smug.

I feel like I’m barely keeping myself together.

My hands brace on either side of her head as I hover over her, my arms tensed with restraint. I’m fighting the urge to justtakeher - to claim every inch of her the way I’ve been wanting to since the first moment she stormed into my life and made it impossible to think about anything else.

"Tell me to stop," I murmur, my voice low, uneven.

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