To Kiss a King - NIcole Burnham Page 0,58

hands inside and pressed a long kiss to the top of one breast.

“You lied to me,” she whispered. “You said I wouldn’t catch fire if I touched you.”

He lifted his head but didn’t release his grip. His brain clouded with the intensity of the moment. As if intoxicated, he uttered the only word that came to mind. “Stay.”

Claire wanted nothing more than to melt into Eduardo diTalora. The brush of his stubble against her skin as he kissed her throat, the masculine, spicy scent of him, the firm pressure of his hands…all of it made her want to stay with him forever, wrapped in his arms, making love until they couldn’t move, then doing it all again. She craved him like she’d never craved another human being in her whole life.

What he was doing with his hand made her so dizzy she could hardly think.

She blew the air from her lungs. “I can’t.” When he tensed, she clarified, “Not overnight. I have to be at work early and you do, too.”

“I’ve never wanted the option to call in sick. But right now, I wish I could.” He pushed her blouse down her shoulders, then his tongue and mouth worked magic on her collarbone.

“A few hours?” she asked.

He answered with a deep, passionate kiss full of promise. She’d told him to make it worth her while. He was. His hands went to her rear and he lifted her, urging her to wrap her legs around him.

“You’re okay with—”

“Yes.” To emphasize the point, he squeezed her tighter and lifted her, then moved backward until they tumbled as one onto his bed. In the back of her mind, common sense told her to slow down, but she couldn’t. She wanted her mouth on his, his body pressing into hers. She pulled at his shirt, attempting to free it from his slacks. He moved her hand aside and jerked the fabric, then unfastened the buttons and tossed the shirt away without removing his mouth from hers. They both went for the hem of his undershirt at the same time. A moment later, it joined his shirt on the floor.

He had far more muscle than she would have guessed, even knowing how often he ran or saw a trainer. She reveled in exploring it all. His hands forked into her hair as she dragged her mouth along his chest. He toed off his shoes and she heard two quick thumps as they hit the floor.

She spread her hands across the planes of his abdomen, wondering at the dedication it took to stay so fit.

Then her lips found the scar. In the dark of his room, she couldn’t see it, but she moved her fingers to where her mouth had been and traced its raised edge.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he whispered.

“This was serious surgery.”

“Was.” His hand covered hers. “They repaired the defect and I’m better now than I was before. Every millimeter of my heart has been mapped and studied. I have a lot of life left in me. I want to live it.”

She dropped a kiss to the scar and lingered there, imagining how vulnerable Eduardo must have felt in the days and weeks before undergoing the operation. Given how many people admired him and relied on him, he couldn’t have shown his apprehension, even as he faced the enormous risk of putting his life in someone else’s hands.

His hands went to her hips and he eased her along his body so they were chest to chest, forehead to forehead. He gave her a soft, romantic kiss, then smoothed her hair from her face. “Bella donna, make love to me.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Good.”

“Good? That’s your response?”

“It means I might stand a chance of fooling you if you have certain expectations of my skills based on my title.”

“I could say the same. You know…making love to an ambassador.”

His hands went to her backside. “One who still has her pants and shoes on.”

“Then do something about it.”

The words were hardly out before he rolled her to her back and did exactly as she asked. He took more time with her bra and panties, his tongue and fingers making a slow discovery of each curve until she had her legs anchored around his hips. Then, on an agonizing breath, he was inside her. He held her hands, fingers interlaced, as they moved together. At first, they each went slowly, adjusting to each other, taking stock of the moment. As tension built between them and their