Olivia Gates - One Night In…

‘You are so, so beautiful. Bella.’ He kissed her shoulders, one first, then the other, and slipped the straps down. The material slid to her waist in a puddle of silk.

Meghan closed her eyes. She’d expected to feel exposed. Ashamed.

She felt neither.

She felt Alessandro’s gaze on her—warm, admiring, gentle—and she smiled. He cupped her breasts in his hands, chuckling softly.

‘As golden as the rest of you. You are like a sunbeam.’

She gave a little laugh, raised her eyes to meet his own heated gaze. ‘I want to see you.’ Fumbling just a little bit, she unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged it off impatiently and she ran a hand down his chest, the smooth expanse of skin, sighing in satisfaction. ‘I’ve wanted to do this.’

‘I’ve wanted you to.’ Alessandro’s voice trembled as he laid her on the bed, stretching out beside her. ‘This is how I’ve wanted it between us. Always.’

She nodded speechlessly, the feelings he was drawing from her filling her, spilling up to overflowing. She felt blessed.

He ran his hand over her breasts, across her navel, skimming over her hidden femininity.

Meghan moaned, arched helplessly. She wanted his touch. She craved it.

She lost herself to the exquisite feel of his hands on her, roaming, seeking, wanting. She was helpless, splayed beneath him, lost in sensation. Touch, taste, feel.

‘Meghan, look at me.’ There was amusement as well as tenderness in Alessandro’s voice. ‘Make love to me with your mind, not just your body. See the memory we’re making together. See how I want you.’

Meghan opened her eyes, saw him braced on his forearms above her, the need and desire open in his face, his eyes, his languorous smile.

His hand moved down, deeper, slipping inside her with a gentle, knowing touch, to the very core of her womanhood, her self, stroking her to helpless flames.

She gasped, her eyes widening, fastened on his, as he smiled, his own eyes darkened with desire.

‘Touch me.’

She touched his chest, let her hand slide down, her lips curving in an ancient, womanly smile of seductive power as she heard him gasp.

‘Touch me …’ His voice was ragged as he rolled on his back, taking her with him, giving her the power.

She straddled him, revelling in the feel of him underneath her, his hard thighs beneath hers, open, vulnerable to her, wanting her touch, her kiss, his entire body a supplication, a prayer.

She watched as his breathing hitched, his eyes glazed with desire. He never stopped looking at her, even as he clasped her hips and she lowered herself onto him.

She gasped in shocked delight as she felt him fill her, felt the satisfaction deep in her core even as the hunger grew, wilder and deeper, needing to be met.

‘You feel so good,’ he said raggedly, ‘so right.’

It did feel right, Meghan thought dizzily as she moved, rocking, adjusting to this new sensation, this wondrous flooding of feeling. Pleasure. Emotion. Joy. She threw her head back as they began to move in a beautiful dance, minds and bodies as one.

One.

One flesh.

She couldn’t think any more, could only feel, her hands bunching on his arms, her thighs pressed against him as he reached up to cup her breasts in his hands, possess her in every way possible.

‘Golden …’ he whispered, chuckling softly, and Meghan gasped as he moved, clasping her to him, her legs wrapping around him so they were joined, fused, from shoulder to thigh. She buried her head in his neck, overwhelmed. Overcome.

‘Look at me.’

I want you to see me when I make love to you. I want you to look in my eyes and see how I want you.

She saw it now as his eyes blazed into hers, filled with a desire that was elemental, consuming them both in its wondrous flames.

He never stopped looking at her, possessing with his eyes as well as his body, as the pressure and pleasure built to a glorious crescendo.

She cried out, and he captured her mouth with his own as she shattered, just as he had predicted she would, into a thousand sense-scattering pieces.

And then he put her back together again, cradling her as they lay there, still, sated, their breathing ragged.

I love you.

It came unbidden, helpless. Hopeless. Meghan closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against his chest, the tang of his sweat still on her lips.

I love you.

Why? When? How?

She didn’t know when it had happened. Perhaps when she had first looked into his eyes at the trattoria, and her soul had recognised someone who knew her. Knew her completely and understood. Believed.

Perhaps it had happened later, when he’d opened her heart and mind to the possibility of trust, of desire without shame, need without fear.

Perhaps it had happened just now, when he’d undone her— known her—completely.

She just knew it was true.

She loved him—loved his tenderness, his teasing smile, his ability to give himself so completely. Loved him despite the darkness, the despair that he hid, the secrets she knew he kept, the pain she knew he would cause her.

She loved him.

And it was the last thing Alessandro wanted.

Alessandro listened as Meghan’s breathing slowed, her breath feathering his chest. She was asleep.

He relaxed his arm around her, shifting to get more comfortable.

Except nothing could make him comfortable. Nothing could ease the guilt that ate at him, worse than any disease.

She doesn’t know what kind of man I am.

He’d never realised how much she’d been through. Endured. His hand curled into a fist as he thought of what Meghan had been through, of the man who had abused her precious trust, her beautiful body.

He looked forward to going back to that hypocritical little town and wiping that man’s face in the dirt.

Yet what help was that? He was the hypocrite; he was surely only going to cause her more suffering. He wouldn’t be able to help it.

When she discovered his past …

When she learned who he really was …

What he was capable of. What he had done.

Then she would hate him. Affection would turn to disgust, love to hatred.

For he knew she would fall in love with him some time. It was in her nature, warm and generous.

No, he didn’t want her to love him. Couldn’t let it happen. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it when it stopped.

And it would stop. Because he couldn’t change. He couldn’t be that man.

He couldn’t be saved.

If only it were as simple as it had been for Meghan. Banishing the shadows and accepting forgiveness, love.

There was no such easy answer for him. People loved until you disappointed them. He’d seen it, lived it before. The moment you showed you were weak, needy, in pain or trouble, they left.

They fobbed you off on someone else. They turned away. They pretended they didn’t know you.

And who could blame them?

He couldn’t stand for that to happen to Meghan. Better for her not to love him at all.

The only way to keep her from falling in love with him, Alessandro knew, was to show her glimpses of the man he truly was.

Not enough to make her leave, but enough to make her wary.

He only prayed that he wouldn’t hurt her too much … and that she would stay. It would be a fine line.

Because he didn’t know what he would do if she left.

His arm tightened around her again instinctively, and she stirred in her sleep.

Glimpses, he reminded himself, his lips twisting in a savage smile. Glimpses would be enough.

MEGHAN awoke to an empty bed. For a moment she felt the familiar lurch of fear, then she forced herself to shrug it off.

There were no more shadows. For her.