Martinez's Pregnant Wife

The crackle of the fire was the only noise in the room as she looked at him, then as the tension mounted she laughed, shocked at the sexy giggle that sounded so unlike her. ‘Not to your taste?’

‘Absolutely not.’ His hands caressed her thighs, teased around her lace panties, and she tried hard not to close her eyes, not to allow her knees to buckle with pleasure. ‘This, however, is.’

‘You are a wicked man, Maximiliano Martinez.’ The unintended soft purr of her voice had an instant reaction on him and his grasp on her leg tightened.

‘Very wicked.’ He slid her dress a little higher and kissed a trail up one thigh and then down the other.

‘Max,’ she whispered, consumed by the rising tide of desire.

He paused and looked up at her. ‘Come here.’ There was unmistakable command in his voice but it was so sexy, so erotic.

She knelt down on the soft rug as his arms wrapped around her, forcing her to sit astride his legs as he knelt down. Her dress ruched high up her thighs as she followed her instinct and moved as close to him as possible. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the dress up higher until his hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her intimately against his erection. It was reckless, it was amazing and it was what she wanted most—to be like this with him, showing him how much she loved him.

‘Max,’ she gasped and let her head fall back as pleasure rushed over her.

‘Whatever else happens between us, we always have this, don’t we, Lisa?’ The words were heavily accented and husky and she didn’t care what he meant, didn’t want to think about that now.

She looked down at him, so close to him she could feel his breath on her face, feel that it was as ragged as hers. Words evaded her as his dark eyes, laden with desire, met hers. Words weren’t needed now. She would show him what they had, that it could be more than passion, if he let it. Slowly and teasingly she kissed his face, anywhere but his lips, until he took hold of her face between his hands and kissed her so hard, so passionately she groaned with pleasure, the sound muffled by the pressure of his lips.

He stopped kissing her, looking deep into her eyes. Was he seeing her love? Could he feel it, taste it? Without taking his eyes from her, he lifted the hem of her dress and pulled it up as she put her arms up, allowing him to pull the soft knitted fabric over her head and off, leaving her wearing only her bra and panties.

He kissed her neck, her throat and the swell of her breasts. She clung to him as shivers of passion rocked her body. ‘Your clothes,’ she gasped as his tongue licked her nipple through the lace of her bra.

‘You want me naked?’ The teasing laughter in his voice was mischievous and very sexy.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, taking on the role of seductress, raising her brows at him. ‘Very naked.’

‘As you wish.’ The playful tone matched the look on his face as he allowed her to slide from his lap. She sat on the rug and watched as he began to take off his clothes, loving the firelight on his body, highlighting the muscles of his chest as he removed his shirt. Lust and a greedy need for him spiked through her as he finally stood naked and proudly erect in the firelight.

‘That’s better. Now come back here,’ she demanded, loving this moment of control, even though she knew it was only because he was allowing it to happen. Just as he had that night two months ago. The night they’d conceived their child.

Within seconds he was over her, his strong arms holding his body off hers as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss so intoxicating her head spun as if she’d drunk champagne. As he kissed her he pushed her backward until she was lying on the rug, his body over hers, his erection pressing intimately against her. She moved against him, wanting him to possess her, wanting him to make her his again.

With expert ease he freed her first from her bra and then from her panties. ‘This is what makes us good, Lisa,’ he said as he looked down at her, raw, hungry desire in his eyes. ‘This passion.’

She wanted to ask, what about love? But his lips claimed hers in a demanding kiss, quashing any ill-fated questions, and instead she gave herself up to the desire that raged within her brighter than the fire of the cottage.

Was it passion? Not for her, but all that slipped away as he entered her, making her his. She moved with him, wanting to be his in every way. As stars exploded around her, her body full of the pleasure of his, Max groaned out in Spanish as he too found his release.

Now lying together, naked bodies entwined, his touch made her tremble and his kiss made her head light. The warmth of the fire was dwindling, the logs becoming covered in a white ash, but she didn’t move, didn’t want to spoil any of this. What had happened in this cottage, the love she’d shown him, the passion he’d showered on her, would have to last her for evermore. But right now, none of that mattered.