The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

Her eyes flew open. She looked at him, her lovely face surprised. Then she smiled a small, feminine smile. In this moment she seemed far more experienced than he; she at least remembered the night they’d conceived their child. While he felt like a damned virgin, helpless, lost in his desire for her, this intoxicating woman who was now his wife.

Rising to her feet, she reached down and slowly unzipped his trousers, careful not to touch the part of him that most strained for her. She pulled the fabric, along with his silk boxer shorts, slowly down his legs.

Then, standing in front of him, she took off her white lace panties.

He closed his eyes, his breathing shallow and quick. Through the tall windows, the sea breeze blew against his hot skin as he felt her climb back over his naked body on the leather sofa. Naked.

He couldn’t look. He was afraid if he did, he would explode. And he wanted to last for her. He should be able to last, damn it. With any other woman in his past, he’d always been able to last as long as he wanted. His sexual stamina was legendary.

But with Honora, he’d lost his power. He could not resist her. At any moment he knew he would surrender...

She lowered her soft naked body over his. She leaned forward to kiss his lips, and he felt the press of her pregnant belly, her full breasts against his chest, felt the whispered caress of her long hair. As she kissed him, a sigh came from the back of her throat.

And moving down, she lowered her naked hips to his, pulling him slowly, slowly inside her.

His lips parted in a silent gasp as his hands gripped the leather cushion beneath his body. He felt like he was hanging on by a thread.

Making love to Honora...

This woman he’d wanted for so long...

Pregnant with his child.

His wife.

All he could think of was her; he had to please her, to pleasure her.

His whole body was tense, on a razor’s edge of desire.

* * *

Honora had never felt so wicked.

She was naked, in the middle of a grand room in a beach house, totally unprivate, where anyone in the open hallway could walk by—or someone outside could peer right into the enormous windows and see them, if they wanted.

But here she was, like a shameless wanton. It was only the second sexual experience of her life, but somehow, it felt different, as if their roles were reversed. She felt powerful, alive, with this billionaire playboy tycoon beneath her thighs, under her control.

Why did she feel this way? Because they were married? Because she was pregnant with his child? Or some other reason?

Her heart raced as she looked down at Nico’s darkly handsome face, at his closed eyes, his rapt expression, as if what they were experiencing together was something wholly new, something holy.

And it was.

When they’d first slept together last Christmas, she’d been an untried girl, dreaming of a powerful man. Now she felt like she’d come into her own. She was a wife. A mother-to-be.

She was a woman.

Feeling him inside her, she felt pleasure burn through her body, from her scalp to her toes and everywhere in between. Gripping his powerful shoulders with her hands to support her weight, she lifted her hips, then lowered them again, drawing him inside her, deep, deeper still. His shaft was so wide, so hard and thick. He filled her deeper than she’d imagined. But he could not break her.

She heard him gasp, and he gripped her hips, stilling them.

“I can’t, Honora. For the love of heaven—”

But seeing her power over him only increased her desire. When had she become so wicked? Was it the moment they were wed? Or had this passion always been inside her, waiting for the right moment—the right man—to set it free?

Leaning down, she kissed his mouth, licking his upper lip with a small flick of her tongue as he gasped her name.

Still gripping his shoulders, she slowly began to ride him. She closed her eyes as pleasure coiled deep inside her, tighter and tighter as her breasts bounced softly against her pregnant belly with each thrust. She held her breath as the tension built inside her, higher and higher. She dug her fingernails into his skin, going harder, faster, letting him stretch her wide, filling her to the hilt as her movements grew rough—