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And then he picked her up. Picked her up! She could hardly believe it. He was carrying chunky Molly Miller towards the bed as if she weighed no more than a balloon at a child’s birthday party, before whipping back the brand-new duvet she’d purchased that very morning and depositing her beneath it. It was the most delicious sensation in the world, sinking into the mattress and lying beneath the warmth of the bedding, her body sizzling with a growing excitement—while Salvio De Ge
‘No. Not like that. Open your eyes. Look at me,’ he instructed softly and she was too much in thrall to disobey him.
Molly swallowed. She couldn’t deny that it was slightly daunting to see just how aroused he was and as she bit her lip, he smiled.
‘Me fai asci pazzo,’ he said, as if that explained everything.
‘Wh-what does that mean?’
‘It means you make me crazy.’
‘I love it when you talk Italian to me,’ she said shyly.
‘Not Italian,’ he said sternly as he slipped into bed beside her. ‘Neapolitan.’
She blinked. ‘It’s different?’
‘It’s dialect,’ he said and she noticed he was placing several foil packets on the antique chest of drawers beside the bed. ‘And yes, it’s very different.’
The appearance of condoms somehow punctured some of the romance, but by then he was naked beside her and Molly was discovering that the sensation of skin touching skin was like nothing she’d ever known. It was heaven
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