She shivered and shook her head. “No, not fishing for compliments. It’s just that…this is going to sound weird, but I was, um, groomed to act a certain way, to do certain things. To…”
He lifted a hand, cutting her off. “Stop. You’re getting uncomfortable, and I like it much better when you’re relaxed. And I don’t care who else you’ve been with or what you did with them. In fact, I’d really rather not know. If this is leading to where I’m hoping it is, all I want is for you to be you. With me.” He cupped her cheek. “All I want is to make you happy.”
Her eyes widened briefly before her lashes dropped and then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, drowning in the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against his.
He’d spoken the truth. All he cared about was making her happy. That should bother him, since a day ago he’d declared he was no longer doing that, and yet, here he was, on what was supposed to be his wedding day, breaking his promise to himself already.
Except the difference was, making her happy made him happy, and that was the aspect that had been missing for all these years.
Besides, everything about this weekend, everything about Shannon felt perfect. This wasn’t a mistake; this was what he should have been striving for ever since he started dating. Ever since his father announced that the heir to the Beneventi Corporation had to marry a certain type of woman, one whose connections would help take their company to the next level.
He had no idea what sort of connections Shannon had, and he didn’t care. All he cared about at the moment was her lips pressed against his, her hands stroking his back, her breasts pillowed against his chest, her foot twining around his calf.
All he cared about was spending the night with this woman and getting to know her far more intimately than he’d ever known another human being, ever.
Chapter Eight
He didn’t care. Well, he didn’t know what he claimed he didn’t care about, and Shannon wasn’t an idiot. If he had an inkling about her past, he most certainly would care.
And they likely would not be here, right now, kissing passionately, wrapped in one another’s arms, on the verge of making love.
Leo had no expectations. If she stopped right now, she knew he would back off, would leave and go to his own room, and tomorrow morning, they would still be friends.
But she didn’t want to stop. Her history with sex had not ruined the act for her, thank God. In fact, she was looking forward to experiencing it with Leo. She was certain it would be so different, it would be like she was doing it for the first time.
He squeezed her breast, and she moaned, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He swallowed the noise, sweeping his tongue into her mouth while kneading her breast with one hand as the other drifted down until it smoothed over her ass.
She slipped her hands under his shirt so she could stroke his skin. Her hips undulated, practically of their own accord. But that wasn’t enough, so she pushed the material up, over his pecs, until he stretched his arms, grasping the collar, pulling it over his head, and dropping it on the carpet.
“Better,” she murmured, her gaze drinking in all those beautiful muscles while her hands freely explored.
He touched her thighs, just below the hem of her dress, feather-light at first, and then he dragged his hands up, taking her dress with them and tossing it to the floor with his shirt.
“Even better,” he said, cupping her breasts over her lacy, aqua-colored bra. He bent to trail kisses from one boob to the other before pressing his lips against her mouth again. His arm snaked around her back, and a moment later, she was freed from the restraints of her bra, which he flung across the room.
“Come here,” she said, tugging him toward the bed. Her legs were wobbling so fiercely she was afraid she’d collapse if they remained standing.
She gave him a little push and he fell backward, lengthwise across the bed. Grinning, he immediately tucked his arms behind his head. She climbed over him, her knees on either side of his hips, and leaned down to kiss him. He grasped her hips and tugged her forward.
When she resisted his efforts, he said, “Come up here. I want to taste you.”
“Oh.” She sucked in a sharp breath and let him pull her up until she was kneeling over his face.
“Yeah.” He stroked the inside of her thigh. “I like this.”
He hooked a finger into her panties and moved them to the side. She could feel his hot breath on her ultrasensitive nerve endings. “Me too,” she managed, her legs quaking when his lips touched her.
His tongue swept out and lapped at her, and she let out a gasp that was closely followed by a low moan. He kept it up, his lips and tongue and fingers working her into a frenzy, until she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and why was she doing that anyway?
She let go. Let the orgasm pour over her. Let that incredible sensation fill her until she was brimming over. Until she was a boneless mass of sated pleasure and would have collapsed if he hadn’t flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her.
She blinked dazedly while he grinned down at her, looking pleased as punch.
He should. That had been marvelous.
She patted his cheek. “Well done.”
He barked out a laugh and pressed a smacking kiss to her lips. “You liked that?”
