And then his lips were on me and I nearly screamed in pleasure. That first touch, that first moment when a guy kisses you there is the finest line in the sand—it’s such a moment of sheer vulnerability. It’s trusting him with your body, with yourself, with the chance to touch you in one of the most intimate ways. With him, I was bursting with longing, consumed by desire for him. And yet, lingering nerves nagged at the back of my mind, pricking me with the worry, the fear, and most of all, the hope that he wanted me the same way.

Not just my body, but my heart.

Because I wasn’t just falling for him. I’d fallen. I was there on the other side, and I sure hoped he’d gone along for the ride, too.

Then I stopped worrying. Because the way he touched me, his lips savoring me like I was the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted, not only settled all those nerves, but banished them far, far away. Nothing else mattered now, nothing but the here and now, the present with him, as he cupped my butt, angling me closer, flicking his tongue and pressing his lips against me. Kissing me. I gasped and moaned. Hell, I thrashed and cried out. Then I grabbed his hair, gripped his skull, and held on tight as he drove me to such a wondrous place that I was seeing stars. The whole world around me was silver and gold and pure epic pleasure as I shouted his name and exploded into thousands of brilliant pieces.

Minutes later, when the waves of pleasure started to ebb, and some semblance of logic returned to my brain, all I could think was I never knew anything could feel so good. I never knew anything could feel that intense. Now I knew, because what he’d done to me was beauty and bliss all at once.

He climbed on top of me, still fully clothed, and kissed my cheek, then my neck, and then he started to speak, but I cut him off.

“You know I have no clue what you’re saying, right? I haven’t had a magical Italian translation machine inserted in my brain to understand you in the bedroom.”

He laughed, then pushed back on his arms to meet my eyes. The look in his eyes was one of satisfaction, but also something else entirely. Something I could almost pinpoint, but was afraid to.

“I wasn’t going to speak in Italian. I was going to speak in English to tell you how much I loved doing that to you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I loved it, too.”

“And now I have to be inside you. I want you so fucking much, Jess,” he said, his eyes even darker than usual.

I shivered from the intensity of his words, and he wrapped his arms around me. “Are you cold?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m happy.”

A smile curved his lips. The biggest smile I’d ever seen. He stood up, offered me his hand, and led me to my bedroom. He’d never been there before, but it wasn’t hard to find in my small apartment.

“No movie posters?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he scanned my walls.

“I’m a simple girl when it comes to decor.”

The only picture on my wall was a framed shot of the sun descending over the Pacific Ocean, rays of peach and dark pink streaking across the twilit sky.

He pointed to the image. “Did you take that?” he asked as I roamed my hands over his chest, feeling the outline of his muscles through his button-down shirt.

“Yes,” I said, working my way down to his pants. “I do more than just celebrity shots. But those are the pictures I take just for fun.”

“I never knew,” he said. “It’s beautiful.”

“So are you in these wedding clothes, but I’d kind of like to get them off.”

He returned his focus to me. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than be naked with you,” he said, and together we unbuttoned his shirt, and I pushed it off. Trailing my hands down his chest, I watched him as his eyes floated closed and he breathed out hard.



“I love the way you touch me,” he said, and his voice was huskier than usual. It was his sex voice, I was learning. It was the way he sounded when we were alone, and I loved it.

“Good. Because it’s one of my favorite things to do,” I said, moving to the waistband of his pants. He kicked off his dress shoes as I unzipped his pants and pulled them down.

Clad only in boxer briefs that revealed exactly how turned on he was, he opened his eyes and pointed to his pants on the floor. “I should probably get a condom from those pants.”

I laughed. “Yes. You absolutely should.”

Tags: Lauren Blakely Stars In Their Eyes Romance