Her Sicilian Baby Revelation (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Michelle Smart

  Immediately he sank down to kneel on the floor before her. Tonino was so tall that with him kneeling and her sitting on the bed, they became the same height.

  Large hands cupped her cheeks, dark brown eyes swirling with desire pulsed straight into her. He breathed heavily. ‘Amore mio…’ he muttered thickly against her lips, before plundering her mouth anew, his kisses feverish and wet and fierce with intensity.

  Another rush of sensory feelings exploded in her. It was as if all her passion for Tonino had been locked away in a box similar to the box that had contained her memories of him, waiting for him to prise the lid open with a kiss like the prince from a fairy tale.

  The fever in Tonino’s kisses was matched by the fever in her response. She felt drugged. Her aching body craved his touch and craved to touch him, to feel the bristles of his chest hair against her cheek. She wanted to rub her nose into it and bite at the brown nipples as she knew she’d done before.

  Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt so expertly she could only assume it was muscle memory from the days when she must have unbuttoned his shirt before working for her. In moments she had it undone and was pulling it apart and tugging the sleeves down his arms.

  Tonino pressed Orla flat back on the bed and gritted his teeth to stifle the feelings threatening to overpower him.

  Her hands reached out and touched him…everywhere. His chest, his stomach, his back, scorching his skin and firing his veins. He buried his face into her neck and ran his hands over the slender body he still remembered every inch of.

  Just the taste of Orla’s kisses was enough to fuel him as no other could.

  No wonder the few relationships he’d had since she’d disappeared from his life had ended with barely a whimper. No woman had stood a chance after he’d tasted Orla. She had stayed with him, every minute of every hour, a spectre in the corner of his eye by day and a ghost haunting his dreams by night.

  She had taken possession of his heart, slipping in without him realising until it was too late, and he’d lost her.

  He had her back now, he thought savagely, and he would never let her go again.

  Dragging a hand up a smooth thigh, her dress rising as he went, he pressed his hand over the core of her womanhood.

  She moaned into his mouth and tilted her pelvis so it pressed back against his hand, crushing herself against his naked chest. He wanted to feel her naked against him. He wanted to touch the soft skin, to kiss the pert breasts; to kiss every inch of her body, discover the changes pregnancy had wrought on it and get to know it all over again.

  Together they dispatched her knickers then he covered her sweet mouth again and, sliding a hand between her legs, he found her wet and writhing for him. Her nub was already swollen, and she moaned loudly when he pressed a finger to it and then dipped down to slide a finger inside her.

  Mouths fused together, he captured the hem of her dress and shifted it to her waist, but suddenly found himself unable to move it any higher for Orla had clamped her arms to her sides, preventing him from moving the dress another inch.

  ‘Leave it on,’ she whispered into his mouth before darting her tongue back inside the coffee-tasting depths and wrapping her arms back around his waist.

  Orla wanted this with a desperation she’d never known before. She wanted to feel everything she’d felt during the conception of their child, a memory that still hadn’t taken its full shape, and she knew that the moment he saw her unclothed, the moment would be ruined. She would be ashamed. He would be disgusted. He would ask questions. The moment would be lost.

  The feelings erupting through her were too heady, too sensuous, too everything for it to be lost.

  Guiding his hand back to the place it had been giving her such pleasure, she reached down for the button of his chinos and undid it, then pulled the zip down with an expert precision that came, again, from muscle memory.

  She had done all this before and, while she still didn’t remember it, she knew she desperately wanted to do it again. With Tonino. Only Tonino.

  She tugged the chinos and underwear down his hips then, with a flexibility she’d never dreamt she possessed, bent her knees and lifted her legs until her toes reached his clothing and she tugged them down with her feet.

  Then their mouths were fused together once more and his hand was replaced by something much harder, something long and thick and…

  In one long thrust he was inside her. The pleasure was immediate and shockingly powerful.

  Orla’s moan turned into a sigh as she adjusted to the huge weight filling her and welcomed the sensations that suddenly felt so familiar.

  Her body knew exactly what it wanted, and she closed her eyes and let it guide her. One hand buried itself in Tonino’s hair, the other grabbed hold of a buttock and drove him deeper and harder inside her as they rocked together with unintelligible whispers and moans.

  She reached her peak quickly. All the sensations infusing her fused together into a tight ball that exploded in a rolling crescendo that filled every cell in her body with the most glorious pleasure. No sooner had she welcomed the headiness of her orgasm than Tonino’s groans deepened and his thrusts hardened and quickened until he gave a long cry and collapsed on her.

  For the longest, dreamiest time, Tonino’s weight was spread deliciously on her, his face buried in her neck. She burrowed her fingers in his thick hair and turned her cheek to press her mouth to the top of his head. He kissed her neck then muttered something and withdrew from her. Keeping hold of her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so her head rested on his chest.

  Slowly the dreamy sensations subsided and the passion that had taken them both in its grip evaporated until all that was left was an ache in her heart and a throb between her legs that felt both new and familiar.

  It would be so easy to fall asleep like this. The room was in darkness—there hadn’t been the time or thought to switch a light on—the only illumination coming from the starry skies filtering through the windows.

  She waited until Tonino’s breathing became deep and rhythmic before disentangling herself from his hold.

  Sitting up carefully so as not to disturb him, she smiled sadly to see his feet were still on the floor. Not wanting him to get cold, she untangled the bedsheets and folded them over him as much as she could.

  Then she slipped off the bed, snatched up her discarded underwear and padded quietly to the door.

  She had just put her left foot over the threshold when a rich, deep voice that contained not an ounce of sleepiness caught her short.

  ‘Running away again, dolcezza?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ORLA WINCED. SHE’D been too hasty in her escape. She should have left it a few minutes longer to ensure Tonino was deep in sleep.

  Ashamed at being caught fleeing like an escaped bank robber, she counted to three before turning to face him.

  His bedside light switched on and she found herself staring at Tonino’s gorgeous yet inscrutable face. ‘You don’t have to leave.’

  She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear then tugged at her dress. ‘I can’t sleep in this.’

  There was a moment of loaded silence before Tonino jumped to his feet. ‘Wait there,’ he ordered as he opened a door and disappeared behind it. He came back out moments later carrying an item of clothing.

  Stalking over to her, he pressed it into her hands. ‘Take this. Change in my bathroom. If you look in the cabinet beneath the sink you will find a spare toothbrush. It’s never been used. You are welcome to shower. There are fresh towels. Help yourself to anything you need.’

  ‘I have stuff in my…’

  ‘You are sleeping with me. End of subject. Now, unless you want me to remove your dress and expose the scars you are too frightened to let me see, I suggest you go use the bathroom.’

  Something deep inside her withered painfully.

&n
bsp; ‘I called Aislin,’ he explained into the loaded silence.

  ‘What?’

  He sighed. ‘Go and sort yourself out, Orla. I’ll explain when you’re ready.’

  Defeated, afraid she could cry, which she absolutely did not want to do in front of Tonino, she hugged the clothing to her chest and locked herself in his luxury bathroom.

  Suddenly desperate to wash the shamed feeling off her skin, she double-checked the door couldn’t be unlocked from the bedroom and shed her dress.

  Closing her eyes, she welcomed the rush of hot water that stung her skin and turned her face up to it.

  Was this how she’d felt the first time they’d made love? Ashamed of herself?

  She’d never dreamed she was capable of such wanton, lusty behaviour. Women like her just did not behave in that way. That was for women like her mother, women who embraced chaos, women who didn’t care who they hurt or what others thought of them.

  Orla did care. She cared deeply. Her pregnancy had shamed her more than any walk of shame the evil authorities had made women perform in medieval times. It wasn’t that she’d been unmarried—her grandmother’s old-fashioned views hadn’t soaked into her that much—but that she had given her virginity to a man she’d barely known who she’d then learned she hadn’t known at all. All her life she’d believed she would wait for the mythical perfect man from the realms of fairy tales to appear before giving her heart and her body, not a man she’d known barely two days.

  That she still wanted Tonino as much as she had then, that one touch of his hand in her hair made her want to rip his clothes off… It mortified her. It terrified her how easily she lost possession of herself for him.

  Only when she feared she was using the whole of Sicily’s water supply did she switch the shower off and reach for a huge, fluffy towel neatly laid on the heated towelling rail.

  She found an unused toothbrush exactly where he’d said and brushed her teeth vigorously, as if she could brush away the demons that plagued her as well as any dirt clinging to her teeth.

  And then she shook out the white item of clothing Tonino had given her and felt a tear in her heart.

  It was one of his shirts.

  Before slipping it over her head she buried her nose in it and inhaled the faint trace of his cologne amidst the laundry soap.

  When she finally found the courage to leave his bathroom and face him, she took three large breaths and unlocked the door.

  He was sitting up in bed, the sheets covering him to his waist. He was not on his phone or watching television or reading. He was simply waiting for her.

  ‘Better?’ he asked sardonically.

  Her heart thudded painfully, and she blinked away the wet burn in the backs of her eyes as she nodded.

  He patted the space beside him. It was a command, not an invitation.

  Climbing onto the bed gingerly, she sat beside him, making sure not to sit close enough that their bodies accidentally touched.

  Tonino, however, was not disposed to have her beside him but apart, and, with a glare, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

  ‘Stop fighting me,’ he murmured, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head.

  ‘I’m not,’ she lied even as she wriggled to free herself from his tight hold.

  ‘Relax, dolcezza. I’m not going to rip the shirt off you.’

  His chest hair brushed against her cheek. The musky scent of his skin skipped down her airwaves and filtered into her veins and somehow pushed much of the angst inside her out.

  A pang rent through her heart.

  Being held in his arms like this…

  It felt right. It had always felt right.

  With a sigh she placed her hand flat on the plane of his stomach and pressed a kiss to the warm skin even as she screwed her eyes tightly together to stop the gathering tears from escaping.

  ‘When did you speak to Aislin?’ she asked quietly when she could speak without choking.

  ‘Earlier, when you were getting ready for dinner.’

  ‘Why?’

  He smoothed her hair with his hand. ‘Because you have been hiding things from me.’

  ‘I haven’t hidden anything. Not since we met at the wedding and the missing memories came back. I’ve been upfront about Finn—’

  ‘I’m not talking about Finn. I’m talking about you.’ He brushed a finger down her face and tilted her chin up so she was forced to meet his stare. ‘Getting information about the long-term effects the accident had on you has been like drawing blood from a stone. You seem to operate on a need-to-know basis, and I think I know why—you’re afraid that I will use your injuries as a weapon against you to gain custody of Finn.’

  Tonino’s instincts were terrifying in their accuracy.

  ‘I know you suffered much more than a head injury,’ he continued, his thumb still resting gently under her chin. ‘You were partially paralysed and needed three major operations to help you walk and regain your motor functions. You spent six months in hospital and a further year in a rehabilitation centre. Your muscles are still weak and prone to spasm. You regularly sleep ten hours a night because your brain has to work twice as hard as everyone else’s to perform simple tasks so you lose your energy quickly. You suffer from debilitating headaches. One of the reasons you both waited six months after your father died before Aislin came to Sicily to fight for your share of his estate was because you were too weak to be left in sole charge of Finn. Have I missed anything?’

  Tonino deliberately kept his voice light as he relayed the list of damage inflicted on Orla’s beautiful body. He could have continued, could have mentioned the broken ribs and broken arm, but the solitary tear that trickled down her cheek as she shook her head in answer let him know he’d said enough.

  He’d called Dante because it had become blindingly obvious that Orla was masking the severity of her own condition. It had been a gradual reckoning until it had reached the point where he noticed it in her every action. Just the way she concentrated when carrying a cup was a big giveaway. He’d had to convince Dante that his intentions in seeking this information were honourable before he’d been put through to Aislin, who’d relayed all the details to him in what had made painful listening.

  Orla put a brave face on but she still suffered the effects from it. She might always suffer them.

  ‘You need to learn to trust me.’ Tonino bent his head and brushed a soft kiss to her trembling lips. ‘I will never take Finn from you. You do not have to hide things from me. I want to help you.’

  She blinked rapidly and swallowed before whispering, ‘I find it hard to trust people.’

  He shifted his legs forward and lay down, taking Orla with him, then rolled over so he lay on top of her.

  Placing his elbows either side of her head, he stared into her eyes. ‘You need to try. I am not your enemy. I am not going to take our son from you because your injuries mean you can be clumsy and that you need more sleep than me. And I’m not going to stop wanting you because of some scars.’

  Her throat moved as she bit into her bottom lip.

  Placing a hand on her thigh, he parted her legs and rested his hips between them. ‘Do you feel that?’ he murmured.

  Her eyes widened as his arousal pressed against her and she gave a short, breathless nod.

  ‘No one turns me on the way you do. No one.’ Bending his head, he kissed her plump mouth while running a hand down the side of her body then back up to cover her breast. He could feel its softness more easily through the shirt than he could through the thicker material of her dress and bra but he wanted to feel it bare against his hand and feel the nipple pucker in his mouth.

  ‘I will never force you to do anything you don’t want,’ he whispered as he drove his arousal inside her, savouring the way her neck arched and the softest moan flew from her mouth. He pul
led back to the tip then thrust in harder. ‘All I want is to give you pleasure.’

  Maybe if he showed her all the pleasure they were capable of creating together, the Orla who had given herself to him without reservation four years ago would come back to him.

  When Orla opened her eyes the room was bright with daylight. The space beside her on Tonino’s bed was empty.

  She sat upright, looking for something to tell the time with.

  Padding out of the bedroom, she went to Finn’s room and found it empty. The nurse’s room was empty too.

  In her own room she donned some underwear, shrugged her robe on and set off looking for everyone.

  She ignored the chiding voice in her head that told her she was being sentimental keeping Tonino’s shirt on.

  After a search that took far longer than expected, she found her son and his father in Tonino’s office. Tonino was reading something on his desktop, Finn sat on the floor building something only he could recognise with his blocks.

  They both turned to her when she walked in.

  ‘Mummy!’

  She sank to her knees and scooped her son into her arms, then waited a moment for her heart rate to lower to something resembling normality before turning her gaze to Tonino.

  Her heart rate accelerated. Images of everything they’d shared the night before flashed in vivid colour before her eyes.

  From the knowing smile playing on Tonino’s firm mouth, he was having the exact same recollection.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  He looked at his watch. ‘Eleven.’

  She raised her brow in dismay. ‘That late? You should have woken me.’

  ‘You needed the sleep, dolcezza.’ And then he winked, making her cheeks turn into a furnace all over again. ‘If you go and get ready, I’ve promised Finn a swim in the pool.’

  The next day, after a couple of hours spent building sandcastles on Tonino’s private stretch of beach and eating the picnic lunch made for them by his chef, Finn fell asleep. Removing the sandwich half hanging from his mouth and making sure the parasol shaded his delicate skin, Orla covered him from shoulder to toe with a thin sheet for good measure, then stretched her legs out and lifted her face to the sun’s rays.