‘Are you kidding? If I’d known it was that good I would have done it years ago.’
He glowered at her and his grip tightened possessively. ‘Don’t say that. Ever.’ His tone was raw. ‘You’re mine and no one else’s.’
She chuckled and her eyes teased him. ‘I love it when you’re macho.’
He grinned and rolled her onto her back. ‘I’ll show you macho.’
His voice was a sexy rumble and she sighed against his mouth as he kissed her thoroughly, stoking the fire again.
‘I never knew that Father Christmas had so many talents.’ She lifted a hand to touch his dark jaw, loving his rough masculinity. ‘I love you, Carlo.’
He stilled above her and his dark eyes narrowed slightly, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Zan felt her cheeks warm.
She shouldn’t have said anything.
Embarrassed by her declaration, and by the lengthening silence, she tried to roll away from him but his hold tightened and he used his weight to keep her still while he slid a hand into her hair, forcing her to look at him.
‘I love you too.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I want you to remember that, Zan. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that.’
His thumb moved gently over her cheek and she stared into his eyes, wondering what he’d meant by that remark.
Why would she need to remember that he loved her?
Something jarred inside her brain, but before she could explore the source of her unease he lowered his head and kissed her again, making her head spin and sending all rational thought from her head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CARLO watched Zan as she slept and wondered how he’d got himself into this situation.
He’d just made love to a woman who didn’t know who he was.
Shaken by the depth of his feelings, he held onto her tightly, as if keeping her close physically could prevent anything driving them apart.
He’d made love before but he realised now that it had always been a purely physical act. With Zan it had been totally different. She’d seduced his emotions as well as his body.
And when she woke up he was going to tell her the truth.
* * *
Zan smelt coffee and opened her eyes.
‘Merry Christmas.’ Carlo placed a tray by the bed and bent to kiss her. ‘He’s been.’
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, still drugged from sleep. ‘Who’s been?’
‘Father Christmas, of course.’
Without giving her a chance to protest, he dropped an elegantly wrapped parcel into her lap and she woke up rapidly.
Her eyes widened. ‘For me?’
He nodded. ‘Open it.’
She tugged at the ribbon, ripped the paper and then gasped as she saw the oyster silk wrap and pyjamas.
‘Oh—they’re beautiful.’