The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

Or maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this was fate, telling him to finally take what was rightfully his, the one thing his father had managed to keep from him: the palace where Nico’s mother had once worked as a maid. His father’s ancestral home, passed from generation to generation.

He’d tried to play nice. He’d offered to buy it from the widow for more than it was worth. His evil stepmother had turned him down flat.

Maybe it was time to play hardball.

“Nico?” She was looking at him with concern. “You were a million miles away.”

Still holding her in his arms, he looked down with a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing.”

Honora looked around the enormous room with its tall windows overlooking the Atlantic. “All this space. Just for the two of us.”

“Yes.” He looked down at her in his arms. “I bought it hoping I’d someday have a family here. You’ve made that dream come true.”

He felt her melt a little in his arms. Honora didn’t know that when he’d bought this house he’d imagined he’d have Lana Lee at his side, and he’d rub his success in the face of the man who’d callously let his mother die. The aristocratic father and stepmother who’d thought Nico wasn’t good enough to be their son.

No. He didn’t want to remember. That was all in the past. Stopping in the grand main room, he looked down at his wife, heavily pregnant, cradled in his arms. Honora was the future.

Standing in front of the tall, open windows, he felt the soft summer sea breeze coming up from the beach, swirling the long translucent curtains that were pushed back to the edges of the windows.

Kissing her, he gently set her down on her feet. She returned his embrace passionately. His hands roamed over her creamy wedding dress, cupping her breasts, her hips, her backside.

She drew back. “We can’t,” she breathed against his lips. “People will be waiting for us.”

“We own the plane. Let the pilots wait.”

“We could get caught, here in the living room...”

“The servants are gone. The house is all mine. Which means—” he kissed down her throat “—it’s all yours...”

He heard the softness of her gasp as she leaned back to brace herself against a wall. She tilted back her head, her dark hair tumbling down her back in another flurry of pink petals.

He yanked off his tuxedo jacket, ripping off half the buttons of his white shirt in his desperation to remove it. She stroked the taut muscles of his bare chest, which was laced with dark hair. The feel of her hands on his skin made him ache with need.

She was pregnant with his child, and yet he felt as if he were touching her for the first time. As if this were his first time making love to anyone...

Reaching around her, he unzipped her wedding dress, and it fell to a heap at her feet. She stood before him like a goddess, her pregnant curves barely contained by a white demi-bra and tiny white panties. He swallowed.

“Y

ou’re so beautiful,” he whispered, touching her, stroking her. “I can’t believe you’re mine...”

He felt her shiver beneath his fingertips as he ran his hands over her arms, her shoulders, cupping her face as he kissed her hungrily, deeply. Her pregnant belly pressed against him. He wanted to ravish her, but he felt strangely uncertain.

He breathed against her skin, “I don’t want to hurt you...”

She gave a shy smile that was the most seductive thing he’d ever seen. “You won’t. Let me show you...”

She pushed him back against the sectional sofa in soft cream leather, at the center of the room. Climbing on top of him, she lowered her head to kiss him.

He felt the veil of her dark hair fall softly against his skin. Her hips swayed over his, causing his desire to spike higher still. With her on top, she was the one in control. He felt as if he were completely in her power.

It was a new sensation for him, and almost unbearably erotic.

Her full breasts overflowed the tiny silk bra. Reaching around her, he unhooked the fabric, allowing her swollen breasts to spring free. He gasped, then leaned up to suckle her, cupping both mounds with his hands. His hard shaft strained against his trousers as she straddled his hips.

She sucked in her breath, closing her eyes. For a moment she held still. Then her hips started to sway instinctively. The pleasure was too much. Ripping his mouth away from her swollen pink nipple, he gripped her wrists.

“No—stop,” he gasped. “It’s too much... I can’t control...”