Page 19 of Italian Baby Shock

She flushed an even deeper pink, her gaze instantly lifting, her chin getting very set. ‘I wasn’t looking—’

‘Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit that you want me?’ he interrupted, tired of her denials all of a sudden. ‘You had no problem letting me know that night. In fact, you didn’t want to leave my bed.’

‘Will you stop talking about that night?’

‘Why? Does it make you feel things you don’t want to feel?’

‘I don’t—’

Cesare laid a finger over her soft mouth, silencing her.

Her eyes narrowed, but she made no move to get off him. Instead, she opened her mouth and bit the tip of his finger.

A knife of sensation slid through him, white-hot and intense. Pure animal desire. The softness of her lips and the sharp edgeof her teeth against his skin. And before he knew what he was doing, he’d taken his finger away, bent and covered that soft mouth of hers with his own.

She made a low, angry sound, but her hands were on his shoulders, her fingers digging in, holding him to her and her mouth opened, letting him in, the heat and sweet taste of her filling him.

He was hard instantly, desire gripping him by the throat. A desire he hadn’t felt since that night two years ago. And he knew in that moment that it didn’t matter how many other women he’d tried to bury that memory with, he’d never be able to bury it. That the only real answer was to relive it. Perhaps if he did, he’d be able to let it go once and for all.

Her mouth was so hot and so sweet and she was kissing him back the way she’d kissed him two years ago in Rome, as if she was starving for him. And he couldn’t hold back. He didn’t want to. He slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring, tasting, devouring her like the sweet treat she was, and this time the sound that escaped her was a sigh, a whimper of need.

Dio, he remembered that sound. When he’d first kissed her and then when he’d slid his hand beneath her shirt, touching her satiny skin. She’d arched into his palm that night, desperate for his touch, just as she was arching against him now, pressing her breasts against his chest, clearly wanting him just as much as he wanted her.

Her arms slid around his neck, her mouth hungry as she began to kiss him back, hesitant at first and then getting more needy, her tongue touching his, tasting him, exploring him.

His world began to narrow, hunger taking over, and it didn’t matter that they were on his private jet that would be landing very soon, or that he wanted to see the daughter he’d never known he’d had—after all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a woman on his jet.

It would be so easy. He could push up the little skirt she wore, slip her underwear aside, and then he could take her in his lap. They wouldn’t even have to break this mind-blowing kiss.

And then what? She’s already furious with you, do you really want to make it worse? Especially when it’s likely you’ll have to talk to her about custody once your paternity has been confirmed. Also, have you ever thought that she might be frightened? Having no memory of a sexual experience that made her pregnant mustn’t be easy.

Dio, that was all true. Anger, he liked, but he didn’t want her afraid.

He broke the kiss and pulled back, staring down at her.

Her head was on his shoulder, her cheeks deeply flushed, her mouth full and red. Her eyes were as dark as a winter sea.

‘Do not be afraid of me, Lark,’ he said roughly. ‘I know you don’t trust me, but please trust this if nothing else. I did not hurt you that night and I will not hurt you now. You are safe with me.’

There it was again, the flicker of her temper. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

‘Good.’ He took a breath that wasn’t quite as steady as it should have been. ‘Because I want you. Right here. Right now.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THEPIERCINGBLUEof Cesare’s gaze had gone dark with desire.

For her.

Lark’s heart was thundering in her ears, her skin tight, an aching pressure between her thighs. Her mouth felt full and swollen, the stunning effect of his kiss ringing through her.

One minute she’d been sitting there, fighting her anger. The next she was in his lap, surrounded by all that hard muscle and the astonishing heat of his body, his hungry gaze on hers.

She’d thought of making some protest or pushing at him the way she’d done in his palazzo, but something about the way he’d looked at her, his heat and the scent of his aftershave had made all her muscles feel heavy and slow. Then his grip had tightened, as if he hadn’t wanted to let her go, and the really terrible thing, the terrible truth that had settled down in her, was that she hadn’t wanted him to.

She hadn’t wanted to admit to the sense of familiarity and recognition as he’d touched her either. The part of her that remembered what it had felt like to be in his arms, to be held by him, to have him close, his mouth on hers. That had felt safe with him, that knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and wasn’t afraid.

The part of her thatwantedto remember. That wanted more. That was angry that her first sexual experience had been taken from her by the car that had knocked her down.

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