Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

Her anger was turning into something much more dangerous and volatile. Anger at how he made her feel, at how easily he could seduce her just with his presence. She didn’t want to want him—she wished she could just walk away and reclaim her independence—but that was fading into insignificance in such close proximity.

All she could see were those deep pools of green. That savagely beautiful face. He tugged her towards him. She wanted him so badly that she was trembling with the effort it took not to show it.

‘Lazaro—’

‘Skye—’

They both spoke at the same time and stopped. Time had trickled to a stop. The air was still. Nothing moved and there was no sound. Only an intense need.

Skye couldn’t even recall what they’d just said.

He laced his fingers with hers and a pulse throbbed deep between her legs. He was holding her so lightly she could have resisted. But she didn’t want to. Through the fog of need clouding her brain she felt an urgent desire to expose the man under the civil façade. To somehow restore the balance of power. To punish him.

He shook his head and spoke almost as if to himself. ‘What do you do to me, bruja?’

Skye answered without even thinking. ‘I’m not a witch... I’m just me.’

For a moment neither one moved. And then something snapped. She didn’t know who had moved first, but it didn’t matter because she was in his arms, and his mouth was on hers, and she was twining her arms around his neck, straining to get as close as possible.

Her folder fell to the floor unnoticed.

He was kissing her like a man possessed. Thoroughly. Expertly. And Skye was kissing him back with all the pent-up frustration and anger of the last two weeks.

She felt feral. She wanted to rip Lazaro’s suit off and find the man who had awoken her with such devastating skill.

When he broke off the kiss to take her hand she said nothing. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak anyway. Her heart was hammering out of her chest, her vision was blurry, legs wobbly.

He led her down the stairs to his bedroom. He pushed the door open and brought her into the cool interior. Open French doors led out to a balcony that Skye guessed must look out over the back of the property, taking in the vista of gently rolling hills covered with vines.

She’d had two weeks to contemplate that view, every evening as the sun set over the horizon, turning everything golden and orange. Her anger returned—fuelled by her desire.

Lazaro pulled her towards him and put his hands on her waist, which was already a little thicker than it had been a couple of weeks ago. She might have felt self-conscious, but the intensity in his eyes burnt it away. It sent a rush of renewed desire through Skye’s body and between her legs, where she felt achy and hot.

He asked, ‘Are you sure you want this?’

Skye wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but she was sure of this. She wanted Lazaro with a ferocity that might have scared her if she’d been feeling more rational. She wanted to drive him to the edge of his control...see him lose it.

She didn’t nod, or say a word. She just answered by putting her hands underneath Lazaro’s jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

He responded with a sexy tilt to his lips. It made Skye want to scowl but she was too hungry.

He caught her face in his hands and angled her up to him, before covering her mouth with his and throwing them both over the edge of the simmering tension between them and into the fire.

Skye was vaguely aware of Lazaro lifting her arms so he could pull her flimsy top up and off. Then his hands were on her back, smoothing up and down, tracing the contours of her body, undoing her bra. Her breasts were freed and she sucked in a breath when his mouth closed over a tight, sensitive peak.

She speared her hands in his hair, holding him there as he administered the same exquisite torture to her other breast. Everything was so heightened she felt she might blow there and then, but he pulled back and Skye opened her eyes, unable to focus for a moment.

His waistcoat and shirt were still closed. His tie perfect. She needed to ruffle that smooth surface. She snapped open buttons and pulled apart his tie, feeling feverish. When his chest was bared she sucked in a breath. He was pure magnificence.

She spread her hands across his chest, dislodging his shirt and waistcoat, pushing them aside and pulling them down his arms. They fell to the floor and now they were both naked from the waist up.

Urgency sizzled in the air. Lazaro reached for Skye’s jeans, pulling down the zip and tugging them over her legs. She stepped out of them and watched with a dry mouth as he undid his belt and opened his own trousers, discarding them and his underwear with brutal efficiency.

Skye drank in his naked form. All six foot plus of perfectly honed male. Even though he should look vulnerable, being naked, she saw nothing but pride and strength.

Her gaze dropped to where his erection was thick and hard. A bead of moisture dewed the head. He took himself in his hand, moving it up and down slowly. Skye had never seen anything so erotic in her life.

‘Lie on the bed,’ Lazaro instructed.