The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

“Are you better?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

His gaze swept over her. The towel was big but that gaze made her feel naked.

“We will see a physician today.”

“Really, I’m—”

“You’re beautiful.”

His voice was husky. The sound of it, that look in his eyes, made her heart turn over.

“No. I mean, I haven’t dried my hair. And I’m already gaining weight. And—”

“Where is this weight?”

“My breasts. My belly. Not much, but—”

“I want to see.”

A heavy silence descended on the room. Aimee’s eyes met Nicolo’s.

“I want to see the changes my child has made in you,” he said softly as he started toward her. He stopped inches away, his hands now at his sides, his eyes hot on hers. “Let me look at you.”

“Nicolo.” Her tongue felt thick. She swallowed, swallowed again. “I don’t think—”

“That’s right. Don’t think.” He reached out, grasped the edge of the towel she clutched to her breasts. “It is a husband’s right to see his wife.” And before she could muster a shield of anger at that bit of arrogance, he added a single word that left her defenseless. “Please.”

Aimee took a deep breath. Then, slowly, she let go of the towel.

For what seemed an eternity, Nicolo stood still. Didn’t touch her. Didn’t do anything but sweep his eyes over her nakedness.

Then he cupped her breasts. Feathered his thumbs over her nipples. Ran his hand down her ribs and over her belly.

He looked up at her, and what she saw in his face made her heartbeat stumble.

“Aimee,” he said thickly, “my wife. My beautiful, amazing wife…”

The next instant, she was in his arms.

He kissed her hungrily and she returned his kiss. Her arms wound around his neck as he carried her to the bed and lay her down among the sheets of softest Egyptian cotton.

He kissed her hair, her temple, her throat. Her soft moans, the way she lifted herself to him, stoked the flames he’d tried so hard to control.

He told himself he would be gentle. She was pregnant. She’d been ill. She needed tenderness, not the fire that burned within him….

And then her lips parted. The tip of her tongue stroked into his mouth—and Nicolo was lost.

He bent to her breasts, sucked the nipples deep into his mouth. Aimee cried out, arched toward him and it was all he could do not to part her thighs and bury himself inside her.

She tasted of honey. Of cream. Of all the delicacies in the universe. He loved the sweetness of her skin, the tang of salt as it began to heat under his caresses.

He loved everything about this. About her. The way she responded to him, without holding anything back.

That first night, their coming together had been wild, almost savage, but now he realized she’d let him be the aggressor.

Now, she was the one, telling him with every motion, every sigh, that she wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted all he could give her and more.