Making over the Billionaire (an Italian Connection Novel) (Entangled Brazen) by Joan Kilby Page A

aching need coiling inside her. Her breath came faster and shallower, her hands roamed restlessly over his back and she squeezed her legs, searching for that sweet spot that would take her just that bit higher. And higher. His movements were more urgent now, and she responded with faster thrusts of her hips.
    She moaned softly. He spoke in Italian, urgent, sexy low notes that spread like a drug through her, combining with smell and sight and touch to create a fog of sensual pleasure so heightened she was floating outside herself. Every thrust of his hips tightened the sexual knot until she was ready to scream with the need for release. Then his words came only haltingly as if every ounce of his concentration was focused on building to a climax. Building and building and building until she was within a hairsbreadth of being swept away—
    Now . She didn’t know if she screamed it aloud or only in her mind. Her arms and legs tightened around him as her inner core convulsed with a pleasure so intense that time hung suspended. With one more thrust he came explosively, with a groan that sounded as if it had been rended from the deepest, most secret place within him. He lay atop her, his uneven breath harsh in her ear, his hips giving two or three more reflexive pumps before stilling. Her heart was beating in her ears, and she could feel his thudding against her chest. She clung to him. They’d both been tossed on a stormy sea, and now they’d washed up who knows where.
    Gradually her heart rate slowed and her limbs loosened, weighed by lassitude and the solid male lying atop her. His head was twisted away from her, his black wavy hair soft against her cheek. Weakly she stroked his back, dragging her nails lightly over his damp, warm skin. Dimly she heard voices and movement up on deck. The creaking of ropes, the thrust of engines, and the bump and slide of the boat being moored.
    Giorgio lifted his head, cocked an ear. “We’re docking in Naples.” He dropped his gaze to hers, his eyes softening to what seemed a miraculous degree. “Well?”
    He really was too sexy and charming for his own good. Or hers. She grinned. “Apology accepted, bad boy.”
    That wasn’t what he’d meant, and they both knew it. His low chuckle and crinkled eyes transformed his face from classically handsome to devilishly attractive. In fact, he looked more relaxed and congenial than she’d seen him so far. Savoring the pleasurable ache in her muscles and the last faint throb at her core, she wriggled her pelvis against him and an aftershock washed over her. It had been too long for her too. And never, ever, this spectacular.
    “We should get up,” she said into his neck.
    “In a moment.” He slid out of her and disposed of the condom with a tissue. Then lay sideways facing her, an arm and leg draped possessively across her.
    Multiple pairs of feet were tramping on the deck overhead as the crew did whatever needed to be done when docking. Lazy and replete, she lay there with half-lidded eyes, not wanting to move. “I need a shower.”
    “Not yet,” he replied. “You Americans are too industrious, always on the go.”
    “Says Mr. Workaholic.” She drew lazy circles on his back, noting another scar high on his shoulder. “We’re going to miss the football match. They might run out of tickets.”
    He kissed the corners of her eyes. “I have a corporate box and a season pass.”
    “So we’re definitely staying overnight?”
    His hand cupped her breast as he gently tweaked her nipple. “I already told you yes.”
    “And another day?”
    His dark eyes turned assessing. “Is that what you want, or what my sister wants?”
    “You don’t give up, do you? You’re like a terrier with a rat.” She’d satisfied her curiosity about sleeping with Giorgio, but she had the feeling he still had a few pleasant surprises in store for a willing bed partner. What they had just shared was only sex. And yet it was more. She felt closer to the man,