By the time he’d wrapped a towel round his waist and walked back into the bedroom, he’d convinced himself that he’d shown his love in any number of ways that truly mattered.
And then he saw Christy standing by the bed, lost in thought as she twisted the wedding band on her finger.
What was she thinking? he wondered.
Suddenly his stomach gave a lurch. Was she thinking of taking it off? They still hadn’t had a conversation about their future and he was afraid to bring the subject up in case he precipitated the unthinkable.
Christy returning to London.
‘I bought you that ring in a tiny shop in the East End of London where we were working,’ he said quietly, and she glanced up quickly and smiled.
‘That’s right. We were in such a hurry, weren’t we?’
He studied her face for a long moment. Tried to read her mind. ‘Too much of a hurry, querida?’
For a moment she didn’t answer and then she gave a tiny shrug. ‘Maybe. We were young. We didn’t really think things through.’
Was she implying that, had she had time to think things through, she wouldn’t have married him?
Driven by an intense need to protect what was his and prove his love, Alessandro moved towards her and saw her eyes narrow and darken.
He recognised the look.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With a rough oath, he crossed the room and brought his mouth down on hers in a fierce kiss, forgetting that he’d vowed to give her space. He didn’t want to give her space. She was his. And he wanted her.
Now.
And she wanted him. He could tell from the way she responded to his kiss.
She was as hungry and desperate as he was.
With a tiny murmur she slid her hands down his back and he felt her fingers jerk on the towel that he’d hooked around his waist.
His mouth still on hers, he undressed her s
wiftly and then lifted her and lowered her onto the centre of the bed.
She was all silken flesh and warm woman, the subtle scent of her perfume casting a sensual spell that threatened his ability to operate on any level other than the most basic.
With a groan of pure, masculine possession, he covered her body with his, feeling soft curves meet hard muscle and relishing the differences between them. She looked delicate but he knew her to be strong and passionate. Knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. That she was as eager as he was.
His mouth feasted on hers and his hand slid down to the top of her thighs and lingered.
He trapped her sob with his mouth, felt her body writhe under his and used his fingers to touch her intimately.
Reminding himself that he’d planned to make love to her slowly, Alessandro tried to pull away and gain some semblance of control over his reactions, but she wrapped one leg over his and drew it upwards, urging him towards her.
Wondering why he suddenly had the restraint of a teenager, Alessandro slid a hand under her hips, lifted her and thrust deep. He felt her fingers dig hard into his waist, and he thrust again, muffling her sob with his kiss.
‘Por Dios, you feel incredible,’ he said hoarsely, lifting his mouth just enough to enable him to see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright and fevered and her mouth was bruised from the pressure of his. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
He shifted his position and moved, knowing exactly how to drive her upwards towards the ultimate pleasure. Her eyes drifted shut and he slid a hand into her soft, silken hair.
‘Look at me, querida.’ He gave a soft groan and brought his mouth down on hers again. Never had he had to work so hard to find the control he needed. ‘I want you to look at me.’
He didn’t know why it suddenly felt so important but it was, and perhaps she felt it too because her eyes opened and stared into his. And he saw everything there. Love. Passion.