Page 22 of Irreplaceable
I chuckled, tracing her dips and curves with my finger. I’d never done something like this. With other women—at least early on in my career—it had been a quick fuck in the bathroom. A blow job beneath the table.
Even in the four years Giada and I were together, we’d had nothing close to the intimacy I felt with Harper. Intimacy was a luxury I’d never been able to afford, despite the millions in my bank account.
I settled over Harper, peering into her green eyes. They were so honest, so open, I wanted to drown in them and be reborn. I wanted to be the man she saw me as—one who was worthy of her time and attention.
My length nudged against her, and she sucked in a breath. “Enzo.”
I angled my hips, wanting to be closer. “Yes, uccellina?”
“Is this…” Her eyes darkened, lips parting. “Is it always like this for you—the sex, I mean?”
I shook my head, pressing my lips to the pulse on her neck. “No.” I rocked into her, as if to prove my point.
She closed her eyes on a groan, my cock sliding between her legs. She felt so good. So fucking good. And even though we’d had sex not that long ago, I needed her again. I wanted her again, so I told her.
“Ti voglio ancora,” I whispered into her hair, knowing how much she liked hearing me speak Italian.
“Ti prego,” she sighed. “Please, Enzo. I want you too.” She dug her heels into my back as if spurring me on. She wanted me just as desperately as I wanted her.
Unlike the first round, I took my time, easing into her inch by inch. Her walls clenched around me, and I wanted to stay there forever.
* * *
“So,you have a brother who’s in construction.” I leaned back in my chair, the ocean breeze wafting over the cliff as crickets chirped nearby. “What’s the rest of your family like?”
The candlelight flickered off Harper’s face, her hair in loose waves that made her look even more relaxed. We’d just finished dinner, and as usual, the staff had gone above and beyond. I felt like a king.
I’d divulged more than enough and certainly more than I’d intended. I wanted to blame it on the wine, but I knew it was this woman. Something about her made me trust her, made me want to let down my guard. I could tell she was curious about me, but she was respectful enough not to pry.
“I’m from a small town in Northern California. My parents were high school sweethearts. My mom is a landscape architect, and my dad practices medicine. My brothers—” she rolled her eyes, though she was grinning the entire time “—are a mess.”
I laughed. “Your family sounds lovely.”
Shewas lovely. She’d come down to dinner wearing a patterned dress that flowed about her thighs, the neckline dipping low on her bronzed skin. Her feet were bare apart from the wrap around her ankle.
“They are,” she said with a wistful smile. She toyed with her earring, the gold sparkling in the candlelight. “My dad loves to cook. Whenever I’m home, we have these huge Sunday dinners.”
I smiled, wishing my dad were still alive. He’d been sorely missed both at family dinners and my games. He’d always been my biggest supporter. He’d pushed me, challenged me, both on and off the field.
“Do you visit often?”
“Whenever I can. It can be difficult with my hectic work schedule, but I’m supposed to visit later this summer for Dad’s sixtieth birthday. What about you? What part of Italy are you from?”
I watched her a moment while she ate. Telling her where I was from didn’t seem like such a big deal, considering how many million people lived there. “Milan.”
“Will you return after your…business is concluded?”
“Sì.” Though I wasn’t looking forward to it. The longer I was away, the less interested I was in returning. There were decisions that had to be made. Decisions I’d been avoiding.
“You don’t sound too pleased about it.”
I lifted a shoulder and sipped my drink so I wouldn’t have to answer. “My life back home is fast-paced. Complicated.”
She nodded. “I can understand that. Though, Italy,” she sighed. Her smile was wistful as she peered out over the ocean. “Have you ever had fresh-squeezed orange juice from one of those funny machines?”
I laughed. “Does it taste any different from other freshly squeezed orange juice?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just more fun. It’s all part of the experience.” She grinned.