Page 11 of Seduced By the Enemy

“This doesn’t seem fair,” she said, her voice breathy and light, as she gestured with shaking fingers towards his suit, still very much still in place.

“You’re welcome to do something about that,” he invited.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Did you really think that, Emilia?” he asked, curious as to her answer. Her eyes lifted to his and her cheeks flushed pink, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t say. “I’ve been called many things but with you, I don’t think subtle could be one of them.”

Her flush darkened and something ballooned inside his chest. Curiosity. Fascination.

A desperate, all-consuming hunger to know more about this woman. To understand her better. Outwardly, she was so composed and contained, the last word in untouchable sophistication. But when it was just the two of them, he could press her buttons, making her unspool in a way he could get hooked on.

Which was enough of a bright, glaring warning sign for Salvatore, because if he was ever going to get hooked on anyone, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Emilia Valentino.

But where he’d undressed her with lightning speed, desperate to see her naked, Emilia’s fingers worked slowly as they went through his buttons, one by one, and separated his shirt, so his breath hissed beneath his teeth with an impatience he couldn’t control. Then, before he knew it, his own hands were at his zipper, unfastening it and pushing his pants down. Her eyes flew to his, but there was an amusement in their depths. A mockery, even, like she knew she had the power to bring him to his knees and was relishing that.

In any other circumstances, with any other woman, he would have had no issue ceding whatever power to her, but this was Emilia Valentino.

A muscle jerked in his jaw as he stepped fully out of his pants, using the same motion to swap positions with her, so Emilia was nearest the bed, then gently pushing her backwards, until shewas sitting on the edge. That slicked back pony tail of hers just itching to be held, touched. His hand curved around the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the lengths, wrapping it around his fingers until it was all held in his fist. She stared up at him, eyes huge, lips parted, and then her fingers were drawing his boxers down, not slowly now, but impatient, like he’d felt earlier.

Naked in front of her, with Emilia’s eyes still on his, she leaned forward and took him in her mouth, so he cursed loudly into the room. True, he’d fantasised about this on the way up, but it had been exactly that: a fantasy. He hadn’t expected—or hoped—it to happen.

“Cristo,Emilia,” he muttered, loosening his grip on her hair, to make sure each movement was her own. For all he liked holding her there, this was her show; her ability to control herself paramount. It was his last conscious thought, though—after that, he surrendered to an almost dream-like state, as with her mouth, her tongue, she brought him close to the tip of sanity and humanity, almost spiraling him over the edge. He was so close. So close he could feel that heat building in his balls, feel it tingling all over his body, and he wasn’t about to finish this so fast. Then he used his grip on her pony tail to hold her head back, away from him. She looked up at him straight away, something on her features that made his gut tighten.

“I want to feel you,” he said, as he brought his body down so he could kiss her, and push her further up the bed, skin to skin, naked to naked, every bit of him exalting in the euphoric, delirious joy of this moment. He spread her legs with his knee, raised up onto his palms and looked down at her. Wide, green eyes stared back at him. Cheeks flushed. Lips dark red. He smudged his thumb over the lower, saw the way her pupils dilated and that heat in his balls was back.

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, because surely she was in fact some kind of ancient goddess?

“Your worst enemy,” she reminded him, but laughed, and pulled on his shoulders so they were kissing once more, and it was the most natural thing to slide into her, all the way, hitching himself deep, so her muscles squeezed his length and before he could stop the thought from forming, he felt as though he’d come home.

“Oh my God,”Emilia, still out of breath from the hotter than flame sex they’d just shared, tilted her head to face him and then, sat bolt upright. “You didn’t use a condom.”

She saw the moment realization hit Salvatore, too. The moment his features went from relaxed, cat-that-got-the-cream, manly-man, to ‘holy shit, what have I done?’.

He cursed, the sound filling the small hotel room, but she reached out and put a hand on his chest. Half seeking reassurance, half giving it.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, staring at him, while her insides slicked with something like panic and surprise. “I’m on the pill. I have been for years. And I’m clean, obviously. I mean, I’ve never done that before,” she gestured in the general vicinity of his cock.

Salvatore’s expression assumed something more like what she was used to as he nodded once. “Then we’re fine. I’m clean, too.”

“You’re sure?”

He pulled a face. “Yes,cara.”

“It’s just—you’re waaaay more active in this department than I am.”

“Yes, and I always use a condom. Besides which, I have to do a physical each year, for life insurance purposes. Mine was two weeks ago and included a full blood screen.”

She expelled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay.”

“So,” he murmured, reaching out and catching her wrist, tugging on it so she fell back onto the mattress, her head landing with a soft thud against the pillows. “You’re not that active, huh?”

She closed her eyes on a wave of irritation at what she’d just admitted, before admonishing herself for that reaction. After all, why should she be ashamed of her lack of experience? Being selective wasn’t a bad thing. Just because that wasn’t a lifestyle choice they shared.

“I wasn’t a virgin,” she said, a hint defiantly though.

“That’s true.”

And then, with a small shrug, “But I don’t make a habit of falling into bed with every guy I’m attracted to.”

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