Page 32 of Hidden Heir, Italian Wife

His gaze raked down as though he knew what was happening to her. He probably did. He read her like a book. He wasn’t even touching her and she was feverish with desire, mind echoing with that word.Lovers.

Tell him to leave. Be smart.

Instead, she turned her head and saw the open door to her empty bedroom. She thought about how he had apologized to their daughter for not being here sooner. How he had stood up for her with Nico.

She didn’t know if it was true that he’d been celibate all this time, but she knew she didn’t want him to be with anyone else in the future. It wasn’t only about not wanting strangers parenting Sofia. It was the pull of a link that had been forged between them four years ago, one she didn’t want broken again.

One she wanted to reinforce.

“Kick me out if you need time to accept it,” he said grittily. “But spending the night thinking about it won’t change the fact that we’re going to sleep together again. So why fight it?”

Why indeed?

Why deprive herself?

She nodded and walked into her bedroom, heart in her throat as she heard his footsteps behind her.

The moment they stepped through, he filled the small space with his expansive energy. He closed the door and locked it, then began to undress, dropping his clothes where he stood while watching her fumble to do the same.

“We’re going to have to be quiet,” he said in a low voice as he stalked closer and dropped her bra straps off her shoulders. “Aren’t we?” He slid magical fingers behind her, releasing the catch to let the bra fall, then caressed from her collarbone to the points on her shoulders and down, grazing the sides of her breasts.

His gaze on them made them tighten and swell. Her nipples were taut pebbles that brushed the wide plane of his chest. Lower, his erection brushed her abdomen, making her stomach dip with anxious anticipation. With more nerves than that afternoon in Italy. There’d been no stakes then. Now they were so high, she could barely find the courage to take him in hand and see if she could give him as much pleasure as he gave her.

“We could have been doing this all this time,” he rasped, drawing lacy patterns on her breasts with his tickling touch.

“You didn’t want to.” Her whisper held a thick edge. “You didn’t stay. You didn’t ask for myname.” He wasn’t the only one who felt slighted by these long years apart.

She saw his mouth tighten, then closed her eyes, not wanting him to realize her anger stemmed from hurt. She didn’t want him to have the power to hurt her. He shouldn’t. Despite the child they’d made, they were strangers. But hehadhurt her by leaving without a qualm. He could easily do it again.

That realization had her parting her lips with hesitation, but his mouth came down on hers, hungry and demanding, but tender. Soothing? Or was that merely the relief of waiting years to be like this again?

She released his erection and he pulled her closer. Naked skin met naked skin. Her arms rose to fold around his neck, easing the ache inside her. The one that had longed to be held like this again.

He shuddered and a thankful groan resonated through her. His? Or her own?

She didn’t know because she was lost. Melting. Still hurt and angry, but those emotions were burning clean in the inferno of need that licked at her. His tongue danced across hers, stoking the heat while his hands swept her shape, becoming flames of their own.

His lips trailed into her throat and his wide hand slid into her underwear, pushing them down. As they cut across the tops of her thighs, he moved his palm to cup her mound.

Lightning shot into her loins, then exploded outward to her nerve endings.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. Even before you came so hard against me at the hotel. The second I saw you again, I wanted my hands all over you.” His whisper warmed her ear while his clever fingers delved. “I wanted to touch you like this. I’ve never stopped wanting you. Tell me you want this, Bree. That you wantme.”

“I do.” It was a small, broken cry sent toward the ceiling.

“Shh.” She felt his smile against her cheek right before his teeth scraped the edge of her jaw. “I want to taste you, but I can’t, can I?” His fingertip rolled around the swollen center of her pleasure. “You’ll wake her.”

She pressed her mouth to his shoulder to stifle her moan of pleasure, barely able to make sense of his words. She curled her nails against his skin, dying.

“Do I need a condom?”

“I’m on the pill,” she gasped. She’d called her doctor for a prescription the day she’d seen his photo.

“Heard that before.”

She opened her eyes and tipped her head back, but his mouth was quirked with irony, not accusation. He inched her backward to the bed.

Her heart thudded with anticipation as he pressed her across the mattress and stole her underwear, then prowled like a panther to loom over her. He used his thick thighs to make space for himself between her legs and held himself on an elbow, watching as he guided his tip against her moist folds, teasing both of them.

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