Page 18 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

Something in the back of his mind whispered recriminations, arguments, warnings, but he could not heed them with his heart beating so loud. His body hard and wanting a taste.

Just a taste of what they’d once had. And why not? She was here. They were to keeptheirson safe. Together.

“There’s just one problem,” he said, moving from behind his desk to cross to her.

She watched him, wariness entering her expression the closer he got. But she did not back away. “What’s that?” she asked, chin lifted. And it wasn’tallwariness in those blue eyes.

She felt some echo of this as well. She had to.

He reached out and touched her cheek, just as he’d done the other night. Before he’d known. When he’d thought just another taste of her would solve the problem of Brianna. And maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but all he could think was he still hadn’t had that taste.

Her breath caught, that flush creeping up her fair cheeks. So beautiful, his Brianna.His. He leaned close, and still she made no move to bolt, to stop him. He stopped when his lips were only a whisper away from hers. Then he met her gaze.

“You still want me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEWORDSSHOTthrough Brianna like flame itself. He need only look at her and she throbbed with a yearning she’d forgotten existed. Or tried to. But he was so close. The words...incendiary.

You still want me.

Andhow. But she did not just give in to wants these days. She had a son to think of, and she was so very exhausted, and oh, she missed kissing this man. The way he made it feel like the entire universe was only them. Only heat. Only that explosion of what he could make her body feel.

No one before him had ever come remotely as close. She hadn’t even attempted to findclosesince. Even if there hadn’t been a pregnancy, a son, she was certain he would have ruined her for all men. Forever.

You cannot be this weak.

“You’re very conceited,” she managed to say. Not forcefully exactly, but not as breathless as she felt. He was so close. She could see that dark ring of near-black around the outside of his brown eyes. Each individual whisker that shadowed his jaw after all the flying back and forth they’d done.

Had he slept? Had she? Was this real life or a dream? If it was a dream...surely she could indulge in a taste? She could lean forward, press her body to the strong wall of his. In a dream, she could relive everything she’d tried to forget.

His finger traced around her ear, then down her neck, and the sound she made was some embarrassingly desperate moaning sigh. Because his touch awakened every nerve ending, every foolish want she’d tried to tell herself not to have. He was going to crush her again. It was inevitable.

She didn’t care. Not if he kissed her. She wouldn’t care about anything.

Dimly, she knew this was stupid and ridiculous. A bad, bad move. But that throbbing inside of her had a mind of its own. Every millimeter of flesh felt sensitive. To air. To touch. To her clothes. Her breasts were heavy, and deep in the core of her she ached for something.

For him. Only him.

“You could walk away, Brianna. Leave this room. There is nothing holding you here, standing so close to me.”

It felt like a lie. Like a million chains were holding her in place. Exhaustion, surely, allowing all thatwantto win. She knew better, and yet...

She did not leave. She did not put space between them. She could have andshouldhave, just to prove to herself she could. But she didn’t.

She swayed forward, this she knew. What she wasn’t so sure about was who pressed their mouth to whose. Only that suddenly they were kissing—wild, hot, tinged with the pain they’d inflicted on each other, but this only made it a dark, potent emotion that took control.

Surely she had no control. Not when a fire like this could burn between two people. Simply by touching lips together. Lips then tongue, arms wrapped tight and bodies pressed together.

Two years seemed to vanish.Thiswas everything she remembered. It didn’t matter that her body had changed somewhat after pregnancy. Nothing between them had. His shoulders were still broad, his body hard, and the way he kissed her like she was a feast made just for him was every bit as intoxicating as it had been.

She arched against him, desperate for that friction that would bring her relief.

“Madness,” he murmured, his mouth moving from her mouth to trail against her neck as his hand slid under the waistband of her pants. She might have thought to stop this if he hadn’t said that. But ifhethought it was madness, ifhewas too weak to fight it, then why should she be strong? Why shouldn’t she embrace the madness?

Take it all the way.

His clever fingers found her core. She was nothing but sensation. But a desperate need to fall over that cliff he was running her toward. She moved with him as his mouth found her breast over her shirt. Nibbled until she stiffened as the pulsing culmination swept through her.

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