He put a finger under her chin, tipping it up. She was still trying to control her face. He could see the effort.
‘Funnily enough, this is one complication I don’t seem to care about any more.’
The closed-off expression faded. He could see uncertainty. Vulnerability.
‘You don’t?’
He shook his head. ‘We have much more important things to do right now.’
‘Like what?’
He put his hands on her waist and felt its thickness. Her bump was growing daily now. And her breasts were fuller, pushing against the material of her dress. He’d made love with some of the most beautiful women in the world, but not one of them had ever fired him up like this.
‘Like consummating this marriage.’
Lazaro pulled her close. He saw the effect of his arousal on her. The way her cheeks got pink and her eyes widened. Glittering a dark blue. He felt a tremor run through her body, the same kind he was trying to control in his.
He wanted Skye. Only Skye.
He shut out all the voices in his head warning him that this was different from every other time. He told himself it was still within his control even as he covered Skye’s mouth with his and knew somewhere very deep and secret that it was different, and that control was fast slipping out of his grasp with every kiss. With every touch.
* * *
Skye was afraid to admit how much it meant to her to know that Lazaro hadn’t slept with his ex-fiancée. He wanted her. She could feel it in his kiss.
She heard a faint catcall from somewhere out on the canal and she couldn’t help smiling against Lazaro’s mouth. But it soon faded as the kiss deepened and became explicit. Lazaro was showing her with his tongue and his hands what he wanted to do to her more intimately.
She twined her arms around his neck and felt herself being lifted off the ground. He brought her into the glorious opulence of the suite and into the bedroom, which Skye barely noticed.
She wondered if every time they slept together would be infused with this sense of urgency. Desperation.
He put her down on her feet by the bed and Skye started opening his shirt buttons, exactly as she’d fantasised doing only a short while before.
His skin was warm. Vital. She moved down, undoing his shirt buttons, exposing his chest, the curling dark blond hair that covered his pectorals.
Then he said thickly, ‘You. I want to see you.’
He gently turned her around and undid the zip at the back of her sheath dress. It fell forward and down, and with a tug over her hips it fell to the floor. Now all Skye wore was a pair of panties and a matching bra, and sheer pull-ups with lace tops.
She felt suddenly self-conscious—aware that in spite of the circumstances this was effectively her wedding night, even though it wasn’t yet night-time outside. Her belly had grown even in the space of time since she’d seen Lazaro before the wedding. It was forming into a proper bump now.
He turned her around to face him. She looked down and he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. He looked at her—all of her. Slowly and thoroughly.
‘You are beautiful, Skye.’
She ducked her head again, bringing her arms up, afraid that he’d seen her insecurity and was just saying platitudes. She hated this new, needy side of herself that she’d never noticed before.
Then she forced her head back up. This wasn’t her. Shy and insecure. She was now married to this man, pregnant with his child, and she wanted him. And he wanted her.
She reached around and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it fall open and to the floor.
Lazaro sucked in a breath.
Her breasts felt heavier, fuller. He cupped them, rubbing his thumbs across her sensitive nipples until she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning out loud.
Skye was afraid she’d explode there and then, just from being touched. So she dislodged Lazaro’s hands and continued undoing the buttons on his shirt. She spread back the material to take in the magnificence of his perfectly defined muscles.
She moved her hands across his chest wonderingly, feeling the slightly springy hair under her palms, the warmth of his skin. Grazing the hard nubs of his nipples. On impulse she leant forward, explored with her tongue, swirling it around the hard piece of flesh.