But even that sound would have taken too much effort, drugged as she was by the power of his kisses. Her fingers trailed back up, curled into his hair as she gave herself over to the sensation drowning her.
‘Gattina...my little wildcat,’ he groaned once he’d lifted his head to trail kisses along her jaw.
Maisie moaned as he bit her earlobe. ‘Romeo.’ Her speech was slurred and the secret place between her legs lit on fire from wanting him. From wanting her hunger assuaged.
He recaptured her mouth and Maisie was certain she would die just from the pleasure overload.
‘Mummy!’
They exploded apart, their breaths erratic and ragged as they stared at each other across the space between them.
Romeo looked dazed, hectic colour scouring his cheekbones, his golden eyes hot and brooding and alive with arousal. She suspected she wore the same look, if not worse.
‘Mummy!’
She lurched, still dazed, towards the door leading out into the hallway.
‘Gattina.’
She didn’t want to hear that term, didn’t want to be reminded that she’d behaved like a horny little hellcat with her son asleep two doors away. But she turned anyway, met that torrid, golden gaze.
‘Fix your shirt,’ he rasped throatily.
Maisie looked down at the gaping shirt exposing her chest. The buttons had come undone without her having the vaguest idea when it’d happened. Flushing, she shakily secured them and hurried to her son’s room.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, his lower lip pouting. She sat and scooped him into her lap and hugged him close.
‘Hey, precious. Did you have a bad dream?’
‘Yes. It was the bad goblins.’ His lip trembled and he tucked his head into her shoulder.
‘It’s okay now, baby. Mummy’s here. I’ll slay the silly goblins so they can’t get you.’
He gave a sleepy little giggle and wriggled deeper into her embrace.
She sat there, minutes ticking by as she crooned to him, until he fell back asleep. Planting a gentle kiss on his forehead, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and looked up to see Romeo framed in the doorway.
With her emotions nowhere near calm, Maisie couldn’t form a coherent thought, never mind form actual words, so she watched in silence as he came and crouched at the side of the bed, his hand trailing gently down Lucca’s back.
When his eyes met hers, her breath strangled at the fierce determination brimming in the hazel depths.
‘You will slay his imaginary goblins. But what about his real ones?’ he murmured, his voice low and intense.
‘Romeo—’
‘I will take care of those. All you have to do is accept my name.’
The implications of what he was asking was no less daunting, no less grave than it’d been half an hour ago when he’d dropped the bombshell. While she’d never given much thought to a future beyond being a mother and owner of a business she loved, she’d also not written it off. But what Romeo was asking... The idea was too huge to even comprehend.
‘It’s not as monumental an undertaking as you think,’ he said, reading her thoughts with an accuracy that terrified her. ‘Think of it as a time-buying exercise.’
His gaze fell to Lucca’s sleeping form. His hand moved, as if to touch him, but he placed it back down on the bed.
The telling gesture made Maisie’s breath strangle in her chest. ‘You care about him, don’t you?’ she murmured.
A look crossed his face, which he quickly blanked. ‘I didn’t know he existed until twenty-four hours ago. But he’s mine, and I take care of what’s mine.’
He looked up, the clear, deadly promise blazing for her to see. It shook her to the soul, seeing the promise she’d made to her son the moment he’d drawn breath visible on another person’s face.
She opened her mouth to say yes, then felt a cold finger of dread. As much as she wanted to protect her son, she couldn’t live with herself if she risked swapping Lucca’s physical well-being for his emotional one.
His eyes narrowed, and she was sure he was reading her thoughts again. He gently scooped up Lucca and placed him back in bed, pulling the Lego-themed coverlet over his little body before he straightened.
‘Let’s finish this talk. Now.’ His voice vibrated with low, commanding intensity.
His heavy, dominating presence crowded her as they re-entered the living room. Knowing what she had to say, she turned to face him.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.