Sharon Kendrik - Accidentally Pregnant, Conveniently Wed

His lips began to graze over her eyelids. ‘Do you know how beautiful you look tonight, cara ?’

‘Seriously?’ she questioned uncertainly, guessing that this was what he said to every woman he took to his bed. But it unsettled her. She might have scrubbed up well tonight, but no way was she beautiful .

‘Oh, yes.’ He felt her tense and his hand cupped her breast until he felt her nipple peak against his palm and he wanted to say to her—Why the hell don’t you dress like this normally? Except to say that risked bringing work into the bedroom and destroying the enchantment.

So instead, he whispered to her in Italian, telling her that she was much too beautiful to hide her hair and body away—allowing himself the luxury of knowing that she could not understand anything he was saying. So there was no chance his words could be misinterpreted…only their sensual tone would be taken on board.

He felt the apprehension begin to leave her as he told her that her hair was as dark as the night and that she looked like a sorceress. He told her that her body was everything a woman’s body should be, and as he tugged off the jeans he realised that he had been right. Madonna mia , but she was a Venus! It was true that her lingerie was a little on the plain side, but he wasn’t intending that she wear it for very much longer.

‘Gianluca,’ she breathed as he slid off her panties and tossed them aside to join the other garments on the floor. And suddenly the uncertainty began to dissolve with the sure caress of his fingers against her nakedness and his murmured words.

He was just so gorgeous, and he was making her feel gorgeous—and hadn’t she been nurturing a fantasy about this man from the very first moment she’d met him? Reaching up, she burrowed her fingers beneath his silken shirt, feeling the flat, hard planes of his torso and the rough texture of the hair which grew there.

‘ Sì , touch me,’ he urged, and closed his eyes as she began to unbuckle his belt, as he had prayed she might. ‘Do not be shy, cara . Ah, sì —touch me right there .’

The momentary inhibition Aisling felt at the formidable length of him against her palm was soon banished by the groan of pleasure he made and now she felt powerful. Equal. Because she wanted this, too.

She wanted it enough to forget everything but the potent strength of her own desire, which had her tugging off his jeans and hearing his low laugh until suddenly they were both naked, their bodies and limbs entangling, and Aisling gave a little cry of delight.

Gianluca kissed her and touched her until she cried out for him to take her and that made him laugh and kiss her some more. ‘Shall I make you wait?’ he teased.

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Or, what?’

‘Or…this…’

She took her hand away from where it had been playing with him and he groaned, even while he wriggled with pleasure. So the cool and contained ice-maiden was melting, was she? Inside she was as hot and as sexy as any woman he’d ever made love to. He moved over her, brushing aside a few wild strands of dark hair, kissing the tip of her nose, and suddenly he was overcome with a need to make love to her.

‘Aisling?’ he said unsteadily. ‘You are protected?’

As Aisling shook her head he groaned and reached for some protection, stroking it on with shaking and impatient fingers and then moving over her once more.

There was that split-second before he entered her which somehow felt as intimate as anything could be. She wanted to tell him that she never normally did this kind of thing, that this was special, but she sensed that it would be inappropriate.As if she was expecting too much from it…

And besides, Gianluca was too aroused to be able to hear anything and so she just drew him down to her, wrapping her arms possessively around his bare back, wanting him closer than close—on her and in her and… ‘This is…’

‘I know it is,’ he groaned as he delayed for one more blissful and agonising second. ‘Il settimo cielo.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that it feels like heaven. That you feel like heaven.’ And then he thrust into her—slow and hard and deep—enjoying the cry of delight which was torn from her lips as they moved in the act of life itself.

Again and again, he brought her to the edge—teasing her into writhing submission until suddenly he knew that he could wait no longer. He bent his mouth to her nipple, his teeth grazing against the sensitised bud, so that her nails gripped into the flesh of his shoulders when at last she tumbled over the edge and he winced with the heady combination of pleasure and pain before he climaxed himself.

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