Page 31 of His Untouchable Heart

His arms tightened around me like he’d been holding his breath for years—and had finally found the place to exhale.

“You hungry?” he asked in his sexy baritone voice. The kind that made my breath hitch.

I smiled faintly, my lips brushing his. “No. I ate on the plane.”

He drew back just enough to meet my eyes. “Anything good?”

“It was incredible. Some sort of herb-crusted salmon with white truffle risotto.” I leaned in closer, nose grazing his. “You have excellent taste.”

He grinned, slow and wicked. “I always pay extra for the good stuff.”

I wanted to tell him then. About Curtain. About the way his threats clung to me like oil I couldn’t wash off. But the words caught somewhere between my chest and my throat. I opened my mouth to speak.

And closed it again when Anthony’s hand slid to the small of my back.

“What about you?” I asked instead. “Did you eat?”

His eyes darkened, and his smile turned hungry. “No.”

I arched a brow. “Should we order you something?”

He shook his head once, deliberately. “I’m only hungry for you.”

The way he said it—low and certain—unraveled something inside me. There was no teasing in his tone. No coy smile. Just want. And it matched mine perfectly.

He kissed me again, firmer this time, both hands cradling my face like I was breakable and needed to be handled with reverence. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt and slipped them open, one by one, until I could push the fabric off his shoulders and trace the lean muscle beneath.

Every inch of him was warm and solid. Familiar now.

He tugged my sweater up and over my head in one fluid motion, the fabric brushing softly against my skin as it left my body. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow that danced across his features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

As the sweater fell to the floor, he leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive curve of my neck. Each kiss he planted was like a gentle flame, trailing a line of heat that made me momentarily forget how to breathe. His mouth was hot against my skin, his stubble prickling in a way that sent delightful shivers down my spine, raising goosebumps along the exposed flesh of my arms.

His hands, strong and sure, found their way to my waist, anchoring me to him. I gasped, the sharp intake of air echoing in the silence that enveloped us, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and our mingled breaths.

“I’ve wanted you since the last time,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire, barely more than a breath against my ear.

A pulse of heat spread through me at his confession, and I could almost see the memory of that night reflected in his eyes as he whispered, “In that low-cut red dress with the slit that should’ve been illegal.”

“You were pretending not to notice me,” I breathed, caught between a teasing reprimand and a burgeoning need. My lips brushed against the curve of his jaw, tracing the outline of his rugged features with reverence and longing. “And it drove me crazy.”

“I noticed everything,” he murmured, his voice weighted with a sincerity that wrapped around me like a warm embrace. “I still do.” The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning, as he captured my mouth in a kiss that was deeper, more insistent.

It consumed me, pulling me into a realm where the distance between us vanished. We stumbled backward, our movements a clumsy dance of intertwined limbs and shared warmth, laughter bubbling up only to be hushed by the press of our lips. With effortless strength, he lifted me, cradling me against him as if I were something precious, something sacred.

"Gabrielle," Anthony murmured, his voice a low rumble in my ear, "I’ve never felt like this before."

The world around us blurred into insignificance as he laid me down on the bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of his body hovering above me as he slipped on a condom. Then, his mouth resumed its exploration, tracing paths across my skin with a deliberate slowness that spoke of a man savoring each moment, each taste.

I gasped softly, "Anthony, this feels... incredible."

His touch was both a promise and a tease, a declaration that he had all the time in the world and no intention of rushing through a single second.

"You're incredible," he whispered, pausing his exploration to look me in the eyes. His gaze was sincere.

I surrendered to the sensation, to the press of his hands and his weight above me. The sound of my name whispered like a vow in the intimate space between us. "I want to remember every second," I muttered, threading my fingers through his hair.

Every touch, every whisper, felt like a discovery, peeling back layers I hadn’t realized I wore. When he moved inside me, it was as though the universe itself paused, holding its breath in reverence for the connection we forged in that moment.

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