Page 156 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

Yes, yes, yes.

Christo, he was shaking. Shaking with need for her. But he held himself back with the fiercest restraint he had ever needed. Because he wouldn’t break his promise to her. Because whether or not she was innocent, he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t sleep with her and still leave her at the altar. Her intentions didn’t matter one bit, his did. And he was a playboy, not a monster.

And while it would be a lie to say that he received no pleasure from what he intended to give her, she would not for one minute be left thinking that this had been about him or his needs, because it wasn’t. It was about her and her needs. And he was only too happy to meet them.

He pulled her gently with him over towards the chaise longue. If he took her to either of the bedrooms in the suite, it would be over for both of them. And even though the future he’d planned for them had become hazy, he knew at least that he wasn’t ready for whatever this was to be over.

Eyes wide and far too full of wants and needs she couldn’t have been aware she was signalling, he sat first and pulled her gently down onto his lap.

‘You have total control, here,’ he said. ‘You can leave, you can move, whatever, whenever,’ he explained. ‘Nothing,’ he stressed, ‘nothing you do or say here in this moment will change a single thing,’ he vowed, wanting this to be something that was utterly contained, with no impact on a future that was so unsettled. This had to be something outside of that.

She nodded.

‘I will not have sex with you tonight.’

Her mouth dropped open as if to object, and he closed his eyes so as not to see it.

‘I will keep my promise. But I can also ease what frustrates you,’ he said, lifting his lids and feeling punched by the lust in the shockingly brilliant blue of her gaze.

She bit her lip and nodded, questions in her eyes less about whether it should happen and more, he realised about how.Dio mio, this woman had been sent to undo him.

He leaned back against the leather sofa back as she shifted her knees to either side of his legs, her long dark ruby-red hair hanging down like a waterfall of fire. He reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb falling to press gently against her throat, and her pupils engorged with desire.

She rocked forward to meet his mouth, her lips covering his as she pressed against the hard ridge of his arousal, and he swallowed her moan of aching need. Her tongue clashed with his, the kiss untried but no less for it.

One hand went to her breast, the other around her backside, kneading, pulling, drawing her against him. The kiss was one thing, but the heat of her against his erection drove him nearly out of her mind.

She cried into the kiss again and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to bring her to orgasm. He wanted to draw it out, to make it last for her, to make it perfect. He broke the kiss gently, and looking up at her, slipped his hand beneath the silk of her top to palm her lace-covered breast. He lost his breath when she let her head fall back, when she gave herself up to her own arousal, but it was nothing compared to the sensations that scoured his very soul, when she began to shift against his erection.

Fingers teasing her taut nipple, he leaned back to watch her, the flush, the closed-eyed wonder, her lips, parted slightly on an exhale, the ruched skirt either side of his thighs, and he left her breast with a moue of complaint, until his hand smoothed down over her hip and towards the juncture at her thighs.

She stilled for a moment, as if this was the line, one to cross or withdraw from. He held his breath, not moving at all, until the sighed surrender sank through her and she rolled her body against his in such a way that he nearly came himself.

‘You are beautiful,cara. Exquisite,’ he praised. ‘Take what you need from me,’ he said, half pleading. ‘Take your pleasure,’ he insisted.

And when she raised herself ever so slightly, making space for his hand, his fingers slipped beneath the dampened silk of her underwear into the hot silken heat between her legs.

This time it was his head that fell back against the sofa, his eyes closing as he allowed the feel of her to satiate his own desperate needs. Her breath coming in little pants, faster and faster as she shifted back and forth against him, against his fingers, as he gently, carefully, pinched her clitoris, bringing a sob from her lips, and a punch to his gut.

He was genuinely at risk of coming himself, as he cupped her heat, pressing the heel of his palm against her as he slipped one finger into the tight wet heat of her femininity. Unconsciously she shifted to accommodate him, and he forced himself to swallow the growl of his own need thickening his throat.

His erection, painful, taut, and impossible to deny as she rubbed herself against the length of him, left him astounded at this being the most incredible sexual experience of his entire life. Sweat prickled his skin, and he bit his lip, to stop himself from crying out as she moved sensually over and around his hand.

Enzo added another finger to her, slowly stretching and teasing her. Her fever-pitch sighs of need were the most erotic thing he’d ever heard, and he knew,knew, that they would echo in his mind for the rest of his life, and precisely at that point, her muscles tightened, trembled, hovering on a precipice until he thrust upwards, his hips pressing his hand into her and finding that perfect point that tumbled her into an orgasm that left her utterly satiated and him irrevocably changed.

Breathless, stunned, he waited for their breathing to return to something that resembled normality, before picking her up, sleepy and collapsed against his body, and carrying her to her room. He gently removed her from all but her underwear, tucked her into bed and left. Before he could do anything as stupid as beg to stay. Not to have sex with her, but just to sleep. Just to let him hold her.

And that was when he realised just how dangerous Erin Carter really was to him.

Chapter Eight

Erin wiped thecondensation from her shower off the mirror in the bedroom’s en suite and stared at herself. Even this morning, her eyes were bright, her cheeks flush and she knew it wasn’t from the heat of the powerful jets of water. Her thoughts were a scattered mess, and her body still hummed to the tune of his touch.

He hadn’t stayed with her. She’d been aware of it, vaguely as he’d put her to bed. But, he’d left and she’d not wanted him to. She wanted to message Sam, but she didn’t know what she’d even say.

She’d already deleted:I think I’m making a mistake. And:I think I got him wrong.

But she’d not quite been able to type:Maybe I don’t need Charterhouse after all.