Page 60 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Such simple words, yet they revealed a devastating truth. Alessio had wanted her from the moment he’d seen her, dripping wet, emerging from his lake. He hadn’t stopped wanting her since. If anything, his need had grown and grown until it was all-encompassing. He couldn’t imagine life without her once she’d gone to Venice and her stellar career. If he had to, he’d—

Her hand on his cheek brought him back to the present. To eyes that held the same mix of desperation and anxiety that he felt. Was it possible Charlotte felt the same?

His tense shoulders eased as if a weight had been removed, and something unfamiliar fluttered in his belly. Hope. It had been so long, he almost didn’t recognise it.

‘I want you too, Alessio.’ Her hands were already busy at his shirt buttons, spreading the fabric wide so she could plant her palms against his heaving chest.

He scrabbled in his back pocket for a condom as her nimble fingers undid his trousers.

‘I love your efficiency,’ he murmured as he sheathed himself.

Her laugh was a throaty gurgle that went straight to his groin. ‘I love how aroused you are,’ she countered. ‘So strong and virile and—’

Charlotte gasped as he lifted her off the ground and pinioned her with his body against the tree. She grabbed his shoulders and with his help, put her legs around his hips. Alessio was rigid with anticipation and delight. How could he ever get enough of this woman?

He delved between her legs, tugging aside lacey fabric to be sure she was ready. Her slick folds and convulsive shudder at his caress gave him the confirmation he sought. No time now for foreplay. Heneededher urgently.

‘Charlotte...’ Her name was a sigh of delight as he pushed in slowly, watching her pleasure as he settled at the heart of her.‘La mia ragazza d’oro.’His golden girl.

‘Alessio.’

She held his gaze with eyes so bright they scorched him to the soul. When she took his hand and planted it on her breast, he couldn’t wait any longer.

He swallowed to clear his throat enough to apologise because he couldn’t do slow and thorough, not now. Not with her gazing up at him with such yearning. Except her sweet body moved against his. His throat closed, and words failed him as he tumbled into abandon.

The union of their bodies, and he could have sworn, their souls, was perfect. They moved in sync, every thrust and twist perfection in that ancient dance that had never felt so right. The tension built with each touch, each slide, each gasp. She was with him all the way, drawing him deeper, making her own demands to match his.

Thunder roared in his ears as his climax exploded. He felt Charlotte jerk and clench, her fingers digging deep into muscle as she arched her head back and rode the same seismic waves of pleasure as he.

Had he ever known anything so superb?

They clung together, and Alessio was glad for the tree at her back to prop them up when it seemed nothing but instinct kept him upright.

How long it took for his mind to re-enter his body, he had no idea. As for lowering them both to the ground and the discarded blanket, he had no real memory of it. He just found himself lying, with Charlotte clasped tight in his arms, as they rode the aftershocks.

The sun had shifted by the time they roused enough to do up their clothes and think about food.

‘I owe you a button,’ he murmured as he watched her sit up and straighten her dress. A row of small buttons ran down the front of the bodice, and one was missing, creating a tiny gap that tantalised him with its glimpse of creamy flesh. He’d tugged the buttons undone, needing to fondle her bare breasts, and in the process had torn one free.

Charlotte slanted him a look that pretended to admonish but was all satisfied woman. ‘I should set you to find it in this grass. You’d be here for hours.’

‘Maybe you could help me.’ He shifted closer, following the line of buttons with his index finger. ‘We work better together.’

He saw her expression shift, an arrested look in her eyes, before she turned away. ‘Maybe we should eat first.’

It wasn’t Charlotte’s desire for food that caught his attention but the indefinable difference in her voice.

Alessio’s instinct sounded a warning. Something had changed. Her incandescent brightness had dimmed, and she was putting distance between them.

He leaned across, covering her hand with his. ‘Something’s wrong.’

It wasn’t a question. It was a certainty, confirmed when she didn’t immediately deny it but kept her attention fixed on the picnic basket. Except Alessio sensed she wasn’t seeing the wicker box.

Where were her thoughts? What was it that made her jaw tense and her brow furrow?

He didn’t even stop to question his need to understand and help. She was more than a casual sexual partner. She was important, special in ways that he couldn’t articulate.

‘Charlotte.’

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