Page 8 of Pregnant in the Italian's Palazzo

‘Just need you to...’ She breathed out slowly, biting her lower lip as he slid back and forth the barest few millimetres. ‘Yes...like that.’

‘I should have gone slower,’ he said regretfully, resisting the urge to speed up, to deepen their intimate contact.

‘No, this is perfect. Everything is perfect.’

Their matching groans of pleasure were perfectly in sync, just as their bodies were as he kept a tight hold of one gloriously rounded thigh and increased his rhythm. Her skin was butter soft and begging to be licked, but he’d make time for that later. He’d make love to her slowly next time. He wouldn’t let her out of his bed until she was crying with pleasure, exhausted and muttering his name like a curse. He wanted to ruin this woman for all others. He wanted to claim her.

The thought made him pause, his breath heaving in his chest like an approaching battle drum. And yet he was past the point of heeding his own intuition to walk far away from this beguiling beauty with her sharp tongue and vibrant spirit. He thrust again, taking her faster and harder, as she breathlessly urged him on. Far be it from him to deny a lady’s demands. But the tempo crashed through what remained of his futile control, bringing his own release closer with a powerful sizzle of electricity downwards along his spine. He was close, too close.

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes in a frantic attempt to delay the powerful onslaught of his own pleasure. This feeling...this riotous lack of finesse...he hadn’t felt so undone since his youth. Even then, he’d had the good manners to ensure his partner had reached their own pleasure before he dived into seeking his own. But he was already inside her and she was writhing against him, urging him to recommence the harsh rhythm of moments before. She met his eyes, vulnerable and unsure. He leaned down, taking her mouth deep and hard to reassure her that he was still very much okay, too okay truthfully. With one hand, he widened her thighs and pressed his thumb against her centre.

‘Is this what you need?’ he asked, cupping her jaw with his free hand as he continued to rub slow circles on her swollen bud.

Long lashes fluttered open, pinning him with vibrant green eyes that were dreamy and out of focus. She moved her hips, guiding him to increase the pace of his fingers against her flesh, and as she became more breathless he felt his own excitement build.

‘Yes, that’s it, come for me,’ he demanded, trying to hold himself still in an effort to slow down, but as she began to writhe against him he didn’t stand a chance. Nysio let out a guttural curse, his body helpless not to move, totake. Two more thrusts were all it took before his release came crashing over him like a tidal wave he had no hope of holding off.

Reality descended swiftly, and he looked at her, searching her face. ‘I didn’t intend for that to happen. Not until you’d been satisfied.’

She avoided his eyes, sliding her hands down to cover where she was still spread open and bared to him. ‘It’s okay. I’ve never been able to...get there.’

‘Not even from your own touch?’

Her cheeks bloomed an even deeper shade of pink. ‘That’s different.’

‘It’s not.’ He saw her visibly shrink from him, her discomfort and unfamiliarity with his concern evident. She moved to straighten herself further but Nysio kept his weight right where it was, his hand centring gently on her chest.

Her eyes widened and for a moment he was fully sure she would push him away. She looked uncertain and deflated as she tried to relax back. Tension filled her shoulders and the lines of her mouth.

‘You were close...weren’t you?’ he murmured, sliding his hand to cup her over the wet, strawberry-patterned silk. ‘You were so close to losing it for me.’

‘Really, you don’t need to do this.’ She gasped as his finger slid along the inside of her thigh.

He leaned down, resuming his torture of her breasts. He took his time, glorying in each light moan that escaped her lips as he savoured her with his tongue as though he wanted to devour her whole. In a way, he supposed that he did. He felt wild and untamed, so completely far apart from the beacon of control he had fought hard to become in the past ten years. He was ready to lose himself all over again in this woman, and to hell with the consequences.

He looked down at her, gripping one of her wrists and holding it high above her head to keep her where he wanted her. This was good, he reminded himself, control was good. With his other hand, he tested her wetness with his index finger, watching her face until her eyes darkened and he knew he’d found exactly the right spot. Her breathing deepened and her hips moved ever so slightly.

‘I want to taste you while I make you come.’ He breathed the words against her ear, punctuating the final syllable with a soft nip of his teeth against her skin.

‘No.’ She stiffened a little, still circling those delicious curves against him. ‘No tongue. Just...just touch me, please.’

‘Whatever you need,’ he murmured again, shocking himself with how calm he sounded in light of the battle drum pounding within his chest as he got down to his knees before her.

A second digit joined the first and he kept up the same steady rhythm until she began thrusting back against him. He found his rhythm, spreading her even wider. When he hit a certain point inside her, what little control she had shown unravelled completely. Her hands gripped his hair as she writhed and let out the most delicious breathy moans he had ever heard. He felt her tightening around his knuckles and he remembered the force of his own release, remembered spilling himself inside her and claiming her as his own.

The thought made him pause. She was not his, she was just a stranger who had come crashing into his life. But then she looked at him, cheeks rosy in the afterglow of her pleasure, and he realised with a stunning bolt of clarity that he needed to make love to this woman again. More than he had ever needed anything before.

He was fully hard and ready to go again almost instantly and he cursed low in his throat. This didn’t happen to him. This couldn’t happen. This woman was a walking liability and he had done something with her that he never normally did. He had acted on impulse. But as he stared at her he felt something else coil tight within him. Something darker and needier than lust, and infinitely more dangerous. He wanted her, the kind of want he usually reserved for the things he kept out of public view. His hobbies and passions.

The things that were his very own.

He moved backwards as though burned, averting his eyes and doing up his trousers as she slid the skirt of her dress back down into place.

This was a problem.

CHAPTER FOUR

ITTOOKAfew moments for Aria’s soul to return to her body. But when it did, she realised with swift clarity that he was not feeling quite so relaxed as she was. Her arms were still clasped around his shoulders and she could feel that he was very much still engaged in the moment but...something felt off.

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