“Three. It’s not because I haven’t wanted to.” He touched his fingers to the smudged shadows beneath her eyes. “I wanted you to have some much-needed rest. I’m not a pig, Giana. I want you healthy. Now, answer me. Why?”
“How can I even think with you doing that?”
He rested his hands on her hips. “Why?” he repeated.
“Men,” she said slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, “must have variety. I saw it in Rome. A different girl each time the same man came to Madame Lucienne’s. And you, Alex. You were with Margot the first time I saw you. How many other women did you enjoy in but a month’s time?”
“Three or four, if I remember correctly,” he said coolly. “Many nights I was too tired, my mind too filled with business to be bothered. But if my body needed relief, there was always a willing woman to see to my pleasure.”
“Variety,” she said. “You do not even bother to lie about it.”
“Why should I? I wasn’t married, for Laura had died the year before.”
“And you aren’t married now.”
“And I am tired of you, because you are fat and predictable.”
“Yes,” she said. “You can be honest with me. You owe me nothing.”
“Very well, if it is truly honesty you wish, Giana. Behold honesty, though I doubt you would recognize it if it flattened you.”
He closed his hands gently over her breasts, his dark eyes steady on her upturned face. “I want you, Giana. Your predictability, your openness to me, I find delightful. I am pleased that you enjoy being in my arms, that you enjoy how I touch you. I even enjoy the feel of your rounded belly against me.”
He saw a leap of joy in her eyes. Then the shadows of doubt she could not hide. He sighed.
“So much for honesty.”
“Alex, I—”
“Stow it, Giana. I’ve always been better suited to action.” He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting the tart apple cider she had sipped at the park. “Your breasts are so soft against me,” he whispered into her mouth.
“I ache. I ache so much I cannot bear it.”
“That is honesty I cannot deny,” he said, trying to smile. She tangled her hands in his hair as he lowered his head to suckle her breast. He laid his palm against her heart, and felt it racing. “Ache where, Giana? Your breasts or your belly?”
“Both. And my legs. They feel boneless.”
He stripped off her dressing gown and pulled her ripped chemise over her hips. She stood before him dressed only in her silk stockings, held above her knees by blue garters. His eyes roved upward to her swollen belly, to his child growing in her womb. “You are truly a delicious sight, Giana.”
“You must stop tearing off my clothes, Alex.”
“Your damned undergarments are always a nuisance.” He closed his hands about her waist and grinned. “The baby is growing, Giana. Not too long ago I could encircle you.”
He stepped back from her and began to pull off his clothes, aware that she was watching him. She was fascinated by his body, perhaps as much, he thought, as he was by hers. He looked up at her, and she said, “You are a beautiful man, Alex.”
“Given your unusual summer in Rome, I shall take that as a compliment.” He clasped her hand in his and drew her toward him. When he cupped her buttocks, she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, clutching his broad back, and sighed.
“I think I could spend all my time quite satisfactorily like this, Alex.” She stood on her tiptoes and rubbed against him, wishing she were taller so she could fit better against him. She felt him tugging the pins from her hair, stroking his fingers through the thick waves that reached nearly to her waist.
“You are toying with me, Alex,” she said, and giving him a siren’s smile, she slid her hand between them.
“Giana, stop.” He closed his hands beneath her hips and lifted her, and she fell forward against him, laughing against his throat. He carried her to their bed, gently eased her onto it, and pressed himself over her. Suddenly he raised himself on his elbows, startled eyes flying to her face.
“What’s the matter?” she whispered, trying to pull him back against her.
“The baby. He just kicked me.”
Giana giggled. “Please, Alex, promise me you won’t tell Dr. Davidson. The poor man would die of embarrassment.”