Brunetti's Secret Son
Because after mere hours with her, he’d instinctively known that Maisie O’Connell had the power to burrow under his skin, unearth tortured truths and hidden desires he wanted no man or woman to unveil. He’d listened abstractedly as she’d spilled her hopes and dreams and had wanted nothing more than to tell her he’d arrived in Palermo the week before, hoping that for once in his life the woman who’d given birth to him would look at him with any feeling other than hate. That he’d spent a week by his mother’s bedside, hoping for a morsel of affection, or regret for the way she’d callously discarded him.
He’d somehow managed to keep his tortured thoughts to himself, but he could tell she’d sensed them, and she’d soothed his soul with the same soft kisses and caresses she gifted him with now.
Then, as now, she’d given herself completely, despite not knowing any more than his first name.
The need to unburden completely powered through him now, but he held himself back. She knew about his father partly through the need to furnish her with information about Lorenzo’s plans and partly because he’d let down his guard. But his mother was a different story.
The secret shame that clawed through him had never abated, despite the years he’d spent in bitterness. After he’d buried his mother, he’d bricked away the pain, secure in the knowledge that she no longer had the power to hurt him with her rejection. He’d only ever felt those foundations crumble with Maisie. And her power over him wasn’t one he felt comfortable with. It spoke to a weakness he wasn’t ready to face.
Shoving his unsettling thoughts back in the vault, he stared down and allowed himself to bask in her soft smile. The sex he could more than deal with, even if it came with a brief exposure of his soul. The benefits were worth it. More rewarding than securing the best business deal.
‘Should I be afraid of that smug smile you’re wearing right now?’ she asked, her voice slightly dazed and heavy with spent bliss.
Arousal spiked again, the magic of her body transporting him into pleasure with blinding speed. Replacing the condom, he expertly reversed their positions, lying back to take in her goddess-like beauty.
With her long, wet hair plastered to her golden skin, she truly looked like a wanton mermaid.
‘Sì, you’re about to make another of my fantasies come true.’ He cupped her heavy breasts, played his thumbs over the stiff peaks and felt her body quicken to his touch. He grew harder, need lashing through him as he watched her accept, then revel in, her new position.
She tested the rhythm, quickly found one pleasing to them both and commenced a dance that had them gasping and groaning within minutes.
He reached between them and found her heated centre. Playing his fingers expertly over her, he watched her throw back her head, her nails digging into his chest as she screamed her release.
He followed gladly, eager to experience that piece of heaven again. Eager to leave behind hopes and yearnings that would never be fulfilled. He’d refused to wish after seeing each fragile desire turn to dust before his eyes as a child.
But Maisie in his arms, in his bed, was an achievable goal. One he intended to hang on to for as long as he could.
* * *
Maisie awoke slowly, her senses grappling with the strange bed she slept in and the warm, solid body tangled around hers. Vague memories of being carried from the waterfall slid through her mind. She stirred and the heaviness of satiation moved through her limbs, bringing back wild and more vivid memories of last night.
Opening her eyes to brilliant sunshine, she forced herself not to panic as the full realisation of what had happened reared up like a giant billboard in front of her.
She’d given herself to Romeo. Not just her body, but her heart, her soul. She’d known right from the start that giving herself to him this time round would be her undoing. Heck, she’d told him as much!
Just as she’d suspected when she’d promised she was his, she’d been making a declaration that went beyond sex. Each decision she’d taken when it came to her child and his father had been made from her heart. She just hadn’t been brave enough to admit it to herself. But now she knew.
She was in love with Romeo Brunetti.
Had probably fallen in love with him the moment she’d sat down across from him that day in Palermo.
Her stomach clenched even as her heart accepted the deep, abiding truth. He was the reason she’d never paid another man any attention, had embraced motherhood without much of a thought for finding a father figure for her son. Deep down she’d known no one could come close to Romeo so she hadn’t even tried to replace him.