The Italian's Pregnant Mistress

‘So now you’ve sampled my cooking, it’s time you left.’

Maybe, just maybe, he would take the hint and actually do what she asked, so that without looking around she would simply hear the click of the front door closing and know that he had gone.

She wasn’t aware of him approaching her until she was caged in by the sink, one strong, muscular bronzed arm on either side of her.

‘You mean maybe it’s time I left before I can say anything that you might not want to hear,’ Angelo grated. ‘And turn around and look at me when I’m talking to you!’

Francesca squeezed herself as far back as she could against the lip of the counter and manoeuvred herself round so that she was facing him.

‘Don’t you dare come into my house and tell me what to do! I want you to go now!’

‘What else do you want me to do?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about!’

‘Don’t you?’

She knew he was going to kiss her. In that split instant the past and the present came crashing together as he lowered his head, raising one hand to curl into her hair. She thought that she might have whimpered a no but she couldn’t push him away. Not when every nerve in her body was screaming for him to touch her.

His mouth collided with hers in a kiss that was scorchingly hot and hungry. God, it had been for ever and yet it felt like just yesterday. All that raging passion. She raised both her arms and wound them around his neck, pulling him against her, tasting him with the desperate urgency of a drought survivor tasting water.

Her eyes were closed when he finally pulled back, sucking in a deep breath of air. She followed suit, but reluctantly.

‘The washing up can wait until later. Right now I want to continue this upstairs.’

Francesca nodded.

‘That’s not good enough. I want to hear you say it.’

‘Take me upstairs, Angelo.’

It was all he needed to hear and it was music to his ears. With one swift movement he scooped her up, as though she weighed nothing, and headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Finding the bedroom was easy. There were only two and the door to hers was flung open, as though ready and waiting to invite them both in.

He barely took in the décor, the low bed with the uncompromising leather headboard, the long burgundy curtains that draped down to the floor, the series of photos on the walls which had been enlarged and framed, pictures of places she had been to in the past. He didn’t even notice the one of Venice, a view which they had both enjoyed a million years ago.

He only noticed her. The way she looked at him as he deposited her on the bed, giving her time to change her mind and not knowing what the hell he would do if she did. Her eyes were hot and slumberous and they watched as he began stripping off his clothes. She probably didn’t know it but it was the biggest turn-on he had had since…since.

He had slept with this woman before, had done the most intimate things with her, and yet he felt like a teenager all over again, getting undressed in front of a woman for the first time. Crazy.

The shirt hit the floor, followed by the belt, which he yanked out in one swift movement.

His hand hovered imperceptibly on the button of his trousers and Francesca couldn’t help herself. She moaned. Very softly but not so softly that he didn’t pick it up.

The trousers joined the shirt and belt on the floor and the state of his arousal was all too obvious against the fine cloth of his boxers. Right now he just wanted to rip her clothes off and plunge into her, satisfy this need that had taken him over and was killing him, but that, he knew, he couldn’t do. Most of all, he wanted to pleasure her, very, very slowly.

A weak moonlight was filtering into the room, casting shadows across her body. He stood at the foot of the bed, naked, showing her how much he was turned on.

‘Your turn now, my beauty,’ he said huskily. ‘I have been waiting for this…’

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER years of self-imposed sexual hibernation it was magical.

Every part of her body that he touched was suddenly brought to life. He stripped her very slowly and looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. He kissed her mouth, her face, her neck, trailed his tongue along her collar-bone and suckled on her nipples while she twisted hotly under him, fingers curled into his hair, her eyes closed as she drank up the sensations that were making nonsense of her common sense.