The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(27)
Her back arched until only her head touched the bed, while she raised her legs to wrap them around his waist again, her ankles crossing over his taut, pistoning buttocks and her arms wrapped around his broad back, while her nails dug into his flesh so deeply she drew blood. Sandro was making sobbing, desperate sounds into her mouth but he still refused to relinquish her lips, coordinating the thrusts of his tongue with those of his driving hips, and Theresa’s muffled moans took on the same frenzied rhythm.
His hands moved up to wrap themselves in her wet hair, tilting her head back almost violently to get better access to her mouth. His wet body slid and rubbed over hers, his muscles bunched beneath the taut satin of his skin, and Theresa’s body burned at every point of contact. One of his hands swept back down to one of her thighs, lifting her hips even higher to allow him even deeper penetration.
More! More! More! She tried to say the words but she couldn’t with his mouth on hers, so she moved her hands to his behind to pull him closer. She wanted him harder, deeper, and he knew it because he adjusted accordingly, and she sobbed into his mouth, feeling like she was dying an exquisite death. She spiraled higher and higher, and when she reached the pinnacle, she spun out of control, freefalling back down to earth with a scream that he swallowed. Her entire body clenched around him, and Sandro, feeling her climax, was unable to hold back. His breath labored in and out of his lungs as he fought for control, but he was as lost as she was and lifted his mouth from hers long enough to release a hoarse shout that she barely recognized as her name. His body arched violently, and he lifted her from the bed and into his lap as he held her as close as he could, his strong arms wrapped around her narrow back as he jerked within her. His lips fell back onto hers, gentler this time as his body continued to thrust lazily. He hugged her even closer, and while he knelt on the edge of the bed, her legs straddled his hard thighs, her chest pressed to his, and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she fought to keep her balance while he nuzzled her mouth with his. He finally went completely boneless and collapsed down onto the soft bed, taking her with him and keeping her wrapped up in his arms with one of his hard thighs still pressed between hers. He was still kissing her, lifting his mouth from hers to nuzzle her neck and kiss her shoulders before coming back to her mouth over and over again, as if he could not get enough of the taste of her. He was petting her all over, and gradually their breathing slowed down and their mutual trembling abated slightly. He was a gentler, softer presence inside her now, only occasionally twitching as if to remind her that he was still there.
“God,” he whispered. “Oh my God, Theresa…that was amazing.” Theresa, who was only now coming back to herself tensed at his words, but he seemed not to notice, still stroking her, kissing her, whispering little endearments and half-finished Italian sentences into her hair. In a year and a half, during which time they’d had sex on average four times a week and at least twice a night on each of those occasions, this was the first time…ever that Sandro hadn’t recited his standard mantra.
He shifted slightly to arrange her more comfortably against him, one arm tucked beneath her head and the other resting heavily across her breasts. His fingers formed lazy circles on the overheated skin of her upper arm, and he had his head on the same pillow as hers, so close she could feel his still-unsteady breath feathering through her hair. He occasionally dropped soft kisses onto the sensitive skin beneath her ear and along her delicate jawline.
Theresa was tensing more and more in his arms, not sure how to react. First the kisses, then the shattering sex, then the absence of those five words, and now this unprecedented display of affection. It was as if, just when she’d found a way to protect her already battered, bruised, and fragile heart from him, he found some other way around her defenses, leaving her vulnerable to even more pain.
He was still whispering into her ear, half-broken Italian words that she didn’t understand at all, trying to pull her closer, but Theresa resisted, snapping out of the trance that she had been in. She could not let him do this to her…not again! He had hurt her too many times in the past with his careless disregard, his other women, and his contempt. She would not allow him into her heart again. Finally clueing in to the fact that Theresa was not as into the cuddling as he was, Sandro lifted himself up onto his elbow, resting his head on his hand and looking absolutely gorgeous in all his naked splendor.
“Cara, what’s wrong?”
She nearly laughed out loud at the ridiculous question before struggling in earnest to escape from beneath his heavy arm. For a few seconds his hold tightened, but he raised his arm and allowed her to scurry off the bed.
“The sheets are soaking wet,” she said breathlessly, refusing to meet his eyes. “I need to change them.”
“Leave it for the maid in the morning.” He grinned lazily.
“The cleaning service doesn’t come in on a Saturday, and besides, I can’t sleep on a wet bed.”
“Don’t be silly, Red,” he admonished gently, sitting up gracefully. “You’re sleeping with me in our bed!”
“I’m not.” She shook her head adamantly, and his grin widened indulgently.
“Stubborn cat.” He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood up with the lethal grace of a predator, stalking her languidly. “Of course you are.” Theresa backed away but he pounced before she could get very far, his hands on her shoulders, applying just enough pressure to keep her from fleeing.