The Secret Kept from the Italian

Maisie lay on the sofa, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted, her expression dazed and full of desire. She drew in a long, slow breath, her gaze searching him, asking silent questions Antonio didn’t know how to answer. He waited, fists clenched, everything taut and expectant, as he braced himself for her reply.

‘Yes,’ she whispered finally, and her head fell back against the cushions. ‘Yes, I do.’

CHAPTER THREE

MAISIE GAZED UP at Antonio’s intent and beautiful face and felt a peaceful settling inside her; a resolution had been made. She was going to do this. She was going to sleep with him. She wasn’t sure when she had decided. When she’d kissed him? When he’d told her he wanted her? When she’d come into the room?

She didn’t do stuff like this. Of course she didn’t. For the last five years her entire focus had been on Max—caring for him, providing for him, and suppressing all her hopes, dreams and needs. And maybe that was why she had decided, why she was lying on a sofa looking up at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, waiting for him to start seducing her. Because she’d lived for someone else for too long, and now, just for one night, she wanted to live for herself. For pleasure. For excitement. For this.

Antonio’s gaze roved over her. ‘You’re sure,’ he said slowly.

‘Yes.’ She swallowed, more of a gulp. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Good,’ he answered swiftly. ‘Because so am I.’

Her heart trembled as he knelt before her, his hands on her hips, anchoring her in place. She stared at him, feeling as pinned—and as beautiful—as a butterfly. Waiting.

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and her mind blissfully emptied out. This was what had happened the first time he’d kissed her, or rather, she’d kissed him. Barely a brush of lips and yet her senses, every single one, had short-circuited. She hadn’t been able to think. She had barely remembered to breathe. The touch of his mouth to hers had felt like a spark to her soul, lighting a fire within her. And when Antonio had taken control of their kiss it had become a complete conflagration. She was consumed.

And Maisie felt consumed now, in the best possible way, as his mouth moved over hers—and then lower. He kissed his way down her cheek and throat, his tongue touching the hard edge of her collarbone before nestling in the hollow of her throat, sucking and teasing. A shudder escaped her and she arched up, already helpless.

Antonio chuckled against her skin and then his mouth moved lower, to the edge of her blue T-shirt. ‘What are you wearing?’ he murmured and Maisie squirmed and blushed.

‘My cleaning uniform. It’s hideous, I know...’

‘Clearly you could inflame me wearing a bin bag,’ Antonio returned as his hands slid under the shapeless shirt. ‘But I think I’d like to see you wearing nothing at all.’

He slid her T-shirt over her head and tossed it across the room with a deliberately wolfish smile that would have made Maisie laugh if she didn’t feel so suddenly, unbearably exposed. She struggled not to cover herself; no one had seen her in just her bra. No one.

‘You are even lovelier than before,’ Antonio said softly. ‘There’s no need to be embarrassed.’

Maisie swallowed, not quite willing to admit that no one had ever seen her like this before. That Antonio Rossi, a virtual stranger, was the first. With his gaze steady he reached one hand out and cupped her breast, his palm warm through the thin cotton of her bra. Sparks of sensation radiated outward from his touch, fireworks fizzing inside her. Although she tried to hide her reaction, Antonio noticed and smiled.

‘Do you know how potent a woman’s reaction is to a man? How inflaming?’

‘But you’re still dressed,’ Maisie protested. She wanted him to touch her more; she wanted to touch him. She just had no idea how to go about it.

‘That is something that can be easily remedied.’ He lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt and then paused, one eyebrow arched. ‘Perhaps you will do it for me?’

‘Oh...’ She hadn’t expected a man like Antonio—powerful, privileged, and surely used to being in charge—to give her so much control. Want her to have it. ‘I...’

He shrugged, his expression one of wry amusement although there was a fierce light in his eyes. ‘They’re just buttons.’

Yes, they were just buttons, of course they were, and yet it was so much more. It was owning the reckless choice she’d made, and taking c

ontrol of it. It was being bolder and more daring and more sexual than she’d ever been in her life.

Slowly Maisie raised herself up on one elbow and then, with fingers that trembled only a little, she started undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Every time she inhaled she breathed in the clean, woodsy scent of his aftershave; every time she managed to slip a button through its hole she glimpsed a tantalising bit of his chest, bronzed skin over sculpted muscle.

Antonio’s breath came out in a hiss between his teeth, and with a jolt Maisie realised how affected he was. How she affected him. He must have seen her surprised expression, for he laughed softly and said, ‘I’ve told you how you make me feel, haven’t I? Now you can see the proof for yourself.’ The buttons undone, he reached for her hand and laid it flat against his bare chest, over the thudding of his heart, its hectic pace matching her own.

They remained that way for a long, suspended moment, connected by her hand on his heart, all of it feeling so wonderfully and excruciatingly intense. This was so intimate, and not simply because she no longer had a shirt on. She hadn’t expected it somehow, along with the physical pleasure, the overwhelming need. She felt an emotional connection with this man that had begun when she’d seen him looking so sad, and its natural continuation was here.

Maisie spread her fingers against his chest, revelling in the taut muscle, the satiny skin. Another breathless moment passed, and then she looked up at him, waiting, wanting—and everything changed.

It was as if a spark had suddenly caught the tinder, seeming to take them both by surprise. Antonio pulled her towards him, crushing her breasts against his chest as his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding. And Maisie answered that demand, wrapping her arms around his neck, driving her fingers through his hair as she offered herself to him utterly.

She fell back against the sofa, Antonio’s body pressing into hers, one powerful thigh sliding between her legs, creating an even deeper urgency.