His mouth was on hers, open, demanding and merciless. His hands were under her robe, hard and hot on her skin, cupping her bottom and lifting her into him. His erection pressed urgently against her belly, the masculine power surging against his closed fly, sent hot shudders of excitement racing through her. She had had lovers before. Anticipating the moment, the first electric shimmer of desire, was always thrilling. But never like this. She was trembling, breathless, almost dizzy with need. Draco said something, the words rushed and urgent. She couldn’t understand them; he spoke in the kind of elegant, upper-class Italian that was nothing like the Sicilian dialect she’d heard as a child, but she didn’t have to make sense of the words to know their meaning. Draco wanted her. Right now. Right here. It was what she wanted, too. He untied her robe, shoved it back on her shoulders. His hands swept over her, down her spine, kneading her hips, then rising up her torso to cup her breasts.
