Page 29 of Seduced By the Enemy

When her textmessage came through, Salvatore was surprised by the strength of his reaction. If not a little alarmed by it. Because it had been almost a week since he’d seen Emilia and to say he was craving her would be an understatement. She’d been on a work trip. That was all he knew. He’d texted to try to see her again, two nights after they’d parted ways, and she’d texted back that she’d had to leave the country. Impatience had burned through him ever since.

So the fact she texted him a photo of her lying on her side, smiling at the camera, with the hotel suite he’d booked clearly visible in the background, stirred his pulse enough to have Salvatore standing and stalking towards the door of his office and offering a hasty explanation to his assistant before calling the elevator and getting the hell out of there.

It was a short cab ride to The Plaza, yet it felt like an interminable wait as the elevator ascended to their room. An even longer wait as he strode down the corridor, then swiped his key in the door. She was standing when he entered, her back to the door, but she turned at the sound of his arrival, a smile spreading over those full, luscious lips. “That was fast.”

“Not fast enough,” he growled, stalking through the carpeted room until she was within reach, and pulling her towards him. “Not fast enough,” he said, again, staring down at her before he kissed her, as he’d been longing to do for almost a week.

She tasted so sweet, like raspberries and chocolate, or maybe it was just her? He held her tight against his body but it still wasn’t enough. The feeling of her softness crushed to him, thefact there were so many clothes between them. Salvatore had always considered himself to be a patient man but he had an overwhelming sense that being with hernowwas basically a life or death consideration. Like he might stop breathing altogether if he couldn’t strip her naked and take her here.

“I want you,” he said, as his hands pushed at her clothes, and she groaned, arching her back, nodding. The sun outside was bright, slanting through the tinted windows, and as he dispensed with her clothes with superman strength, her skin almost seemed to glow like gold.

His own clothes followed even faster, even as he kissed her, his mouth unwilling to part with hers, until they were naked and he could touch her all over, his hands roaming without hesitation, reacquainting themselves with a body he somehow knew better almost than he did his own.

He had become an expert in Emilia, an expert in her pleasure, her taste, her sweet smell, her everything, and it didn’t occur to him to worry about that, nor to care, because it was only a temporary form of insanity, a short-term giving away of himself, to a woman he should have known better than to get tied up with.

The table behind her somehow edged closer, or maybe that was him, pushing her backwards, until her butt connected with it, and he was standing between her legs, kissing her, touching her, so close to her sex, that all he had to do was lift her a little, and wrap her legs around him. And he did, driving into her in the same movement, so they both cried out at the sheer euphoric fulfillment of their shared needs, at the ecstasy delivered in that moment, and the promise of what was to come, as he held her hard to his body and drove into her again and again, until they were exploding together, voices mingled, breaths hewn from their bodies, brows covered in perspiration.

“Well, fuck,” he groaned, when he could trust himself to speak again, looking at Emilia as if through a smattering of stars. “You are exquisite.”

Her smile was slow to spread and possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m really not. Right now I’m jet lagged and covered in airplane.”

He eased her back to the ground, hating the feeling of leaving her body, wanting to stay buried inside of her for so much longer. “You just got back?”

She nodded.

“Where from?”

She hesitated and for the briefest moment, something like suspicion curdled in his gut. An unwelcome emotion that seemed strangely adjacent to jealousy. He kept his expression neutral, wondering at the cogs that were turning in her brain, because she seemed unwilling to answer his simple question.

And then, after a beat too long, she said, “Moricosia.”

Ah. That explained it. “I know you got the job,” he pointed out. “You can talk about it in front of me.”

Heat flushed her cheeks pink, so he couldn’t resist lifting his hand and cupping one.

“Thanks, but I don’t feel like talking about it with anyone, let alone you.”

He grinned at that. “Your choice.” His eyes roamed her face and he realised, belatedly, that she did look tired. Exhausted, in fact. “Stay here.”

He walked through the apartment to the palatial en-suite, and placed the plug in the bath then began running the water, checking the temperature before adding a generous amount of body wash so bubbles instantly began to form on the water’s surface.

“What are you doing?” He glanced back towards the door to find her standing there, still gloriously naked, so his veins thrummed with all the things he wanted to do with her.

“You didn’t stay.”

“I’m not a puppy.”

His lips quirked. He liked how quick she was. He liked how sassy she was. In some ways, it felt like he’d known her longer than this. It felt like he’d known her all his life. They were so comfortable together, even when they were sparking off each other. He never felt as though she were trying to impress him, as though she was preening for his attention. Maybe that was a virtue of their agreement, too? The fact that neither of them was looking at ways to convert this to a real relationship, or hoping for it to turn into something longer term or more serious, meant they could just be completely real together.

It was probably something he needed to consider rolling out into any future relationship. Limits. Rules. The promise of no mess.

“Hop in,” he nodded towards the bath. “Are you hungry?”

She looked beyond him to the tub, as she jabbed her big toe against the grout of a tile, like she was lost in thought. “I’m—my stomach is still on Moricosian time, so yes. Starving.”

“I’ll get food brought up.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, nodding. Then, slowly, as she walked towards him, “This is actually really sweet.”

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