Proof of Their Sin

He wanted to thrust into her and stamp her as his for all time, but held back, making his point in a much subtler, more enduring way, playing with her nipples until she was rocking her wet center against his shaft. Then and only then did he shift so he could kiss her while removing himself from the temptation of burying himself in her, using his hand to caress her and bring her to the brink, not letting her tip as he steadily built the intensity for both of them.

She arched her breasts into his crisp chest hair, teasing him with their damp, hard tips, while her hands roamed mindlessly over him, scratching at his buttocks and urging him to take her.

Holding back nearly killed him. His skin was incinerating by the time he slid into her. Delicate inner shivering began around his erection almost immediately and he held them both still, waiting for it to pass, mercilessly smothering her groan of protest with his hard kiss.

Finally he began the serious task of claiming her flesh and senses, pushing them to the brink of mindless intensity with slow, deep thrusts. When waves of shuddering pleasure racked her, he finally abandoned control. He thrust fast and the eruption was so fierce he shouted with ragged ecstasy, body twitching in rapture.

Then he sank onto her, weak with relief as she clung to him, shaking with joy.

“Tu sei mia,” he said. You’re mine.

But later, when they were eating spaghetti by the pool in their robes, he wondered if it was true. No romantic notions. Would she ever really be his?

* * *

The honeymoon lasted until New Year. Aside from a few mornings when Paolo went into his office in Milan, they were almost constantly together. They shopped for the children, sent gifts to her mother and step-nieces and nephews, and spent time with his family. There were only two awkward hiccups.

The first happened immediately after they returned from Sicily. Champagne was opened the moment they arrived at his mother’s for a big family dinner. When someone handed her a glass, Lauren was caught off guard enough to hesitate before taking it, her mind teetering through the implications of refusing against taking a few sips that probably wouldn’t hurt the baby.

“Thanks, but we’re expecting,” Paolo said smoothly, his arm curling warmly across her back. “Celebrating, but not with drink.”

Into the startled silence, Vittorio drawled, “Only one day home from his honeymoon. Works fast, doesn’t he?”

The blunt reminder of their indiscretion in Charleston made Lauren’s heart drop, but quick as a whip, Paolo said, “Pressure’s off me now. When are you going to marry and produce?”

“I keep asking him that,” Paolo’s aunt, Vittorio’s mother, exclaimed as she came forward to offer Lauren a kiss. “Vito doesn’t have your sense of duty, Paolo.”

Paolo bent to hug her, smirking privately as a din of echoed badgering was aimed at Vittorio. Vittorio ruefully muttered, “Bastardo,” at Paolo before embracing Lauren.

“Keep him in line, would you?” he urged her.

With everything in the open, Lauren relaxed. She and Paolo entertained at both the penthouse and the lake and ate at a restaurant where Paolo introduced her to some of his friends and their wives. It was all very festive and fun.

The second blip came when they were opening Christmas presents at his mother’s. Amid the chaos of music and crumpled paper and toys being tried out, Paolo’s mother said, “I suppose next year I’ll be visiting you here for Baby’s first Christmas.”

The croon of a Christmas carol filled the sudden silence. All eyes shifted to Paolo, Lauren’s included. She had no intention of turning his mother out of her home.#p#????#e#

“Is that really what you want, Mama? Because Lauren and I are quite comfortable as we are,” he said calmly.

“You can’t raise a family in a skyscraper. Children need room to run and play and this house needs little feet in it full-time, not just at Christmas.”

“But we don’t want to displace you,” Lauren blurted. “If the house is too much for you, we can move in and you could live here with us.”

“You have the heart of a true daughter, Lauren,” Carlotta said with a misty smile. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be happy to stay a few weeks when the baby comes if you like, but you and Paolo will want your privacy until then. And I want to be in my gardens in Tuscany. I’ve always wanted more time there and now I can have it.”

“Don’t do anything rash,” Lauren urged. “Paolo’s right. We’re happy as we are. We have the lake house and the baby won’t be walking for a year.”