A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [63]
With another cat-that-got-the-cream smile, she tugged the knot slightly loose. Paused. Tugged again.
‘Teresa…’
With a low chuckle deep in her throat, she laid a reproving finger over his mouth, silencing him as she shook her head.
‘My turn,’ she whispered. ‘Mine.’
She drew out the removal of the tie for as long as she dared, fixing her entire concentration on easing the elegant knot open, sliding the burgundy silk free. And it was only when at last it hung loose around his neck that she realised how completely still Gio had become, frozen, hardly breathing, it seemed, all his attention fixed on her.
‘Good…’
She caught hold of both ends of the tie, tugged again, drawing his head forward until all she had to do was to reach up and press a long, lingering kiss on his waiting lips. His sigh of response widened the smile on her own mouth.
‘You see,’ she told him softly. ‘Patience is rewarded—in the end.’
It was an effort to ease away from the kiss, decidedly harder to ignore the heated, tingling sensations sparking off all over her body. But she had started on a plan of how to play this and she wanted to carry it through.
The slow, careful unbuttoning of his shirt was accompanied by the heavy, pounding thud of Gio’s heart just underneath her fingertips whenever they rested on the heated satin of his skin. Occasionally she paused to trace delicate erotic patterns over the lines of his chest, tangling gently in the dark hair, moving along the curves of his ribcage. When she circled first one and then the second of the dark, tight male nipples with infinite care Gio could not hold back a groan of yearning response.
‘Teresa…’ he muttered and his voice was thicker, hoarser than before. ‘Let me…’
‘No.’ Her tone was firm. ‘Hands off…’
But then, looking into the black pools of his eyes, she weakened, just a little.
‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘You can kiss me…’
It was a kiss that almost broke her resolve, because, forbidden to use his hands, he let his mouth tell her how hungry and aroused he was. How much he wanted her. His hard body strained against hers, awakening the same demanding craving in her own flesh, making her wish that he would just ignore her instructions, her command, and grab for her, haul her into his arms, swing her off the floor and then carry her upstairs to his bed.
But then she risked another glance up into his face, seeing the glaze of desire settle on those brilliant eyes, the tautening of every muscle in the set of burning passion. And she knew that if her resolve to hold to this game she had started was weakening then his had hardened, become immovable. There was no backing out now. And as if to confirm her suspicions, almost, she felt, to indicate that he could read her mind, he smiled straight into her considering eyes.
‘Next move, carina,’ he challenged softly. ‘I’m in your hands. But don’t you think that, if we’re to take this game to its natural conclusion, we might be a little more comfortable in the bedroom?’
But the bedroom was not what Terrie had in mind. The bedroom was the one he had used during his marriage. The one he had shared with Lucia. And so she caught hold of the two sides of his shirt, now gaping wildly over his bronzed chest, and led him by them out of the kitchen and across the hall, into the spacious lounge. Once there, she eased the loosened garment from him, tracing the path of the material as it slid away with her mouth, pressing kisses against his heated skin.
With her hands on the narrow leather belt at his waist, for the first time she lost a little of her confidence, hesitated slightly, but Gio sensed her feelings and shook his head in teasing reproach.
‘You can’t stop now, belleza,’ he told her, and the forceful jut of his erection just below her hands gave an added emphasis to the growing urgency in his voice.
An urgency that now infected Terrie as,