A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy

by Maisey Yates

  He held her until their raging heartbeats calmed, their bodies still joined.

  “I didn’t know,” she said, dazed. “I didn’t know that losing control could be so…empowering.”

  His lips twitched against her neck. “Was it?”

  “Yes. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

  “Was it your first orgasm?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

  She hadn’t planned on telling him, but after that she knew there was no place for lying or even sidestepping the truth. “Yes. My first everything.”

  Max was stunned by that admission. She’d been tight, so tight it had been a battle not to come the moment he’d thrust into her, but he’d been too lost in his own pleasure to question it.

  “And why is that, Alison? You’re a beautiful woman. A sensual woman. There wouldn’t have been anything wrong with you exploring that.”

  “Control,” she said softly. “I never wanted to give anyone the power to hurt me. So I avoided relationships. Avoided sex.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  She shifted in his arms and turned to face him, her copper eyes still cloudy with the aftereffects of her orgasm. Something that felt a lot like pride swelled in his chest. “You’re the first man that I wanted to be with. Before I…It scared me to think of being with someone like this. Being naked, not just physically, but in every way. But I trust you. I trust that you won’t hurt me,” she said simply.

  He felt as if a steel band was clamping down hard on his heart. She’d been a virgin. She’d trusted him where she hadn’t trusted any man before. And what could he offer her but a cold, clinical relationship, void of any kind of sentimental emotion. She deserved more than that. But he just didn’t have it in him.

  “I can’t give you love. I can’t give you the promises a woman should expect after her first time.”

  “I don’t need any more promises. And we’re already engaged,” she said pointedly. “And what we have is better than love. We have honesty. We have a common bond.”

  She was right. Love was no guarantee of anything, and they’d both seen that firsthand in life. He only hoped she wouldn’t have a change of heart. Virgins tended to take sex very seriously, which was why he’d always avoided them.

  She slid her silky smooth thigh over his and her damp core brushed against his penis. He felt himself getting hard all over again. He wanted her. Already. Wanted her so badly his muscles were knotting with tension as he tried to hold himself back. But she’d been a virgin less than a half hour ago and he wasn’t going to hurt her by trying to find his own satisfaction again so soon.

  She moaned and moved against him, her lips curved into a dreamy smile.

  “Alison,” he bit out. “Be careful.”

  “Why?” she asked, a full-blown smile spreading over her face. He found himself smiling back.

  “Because you’re new at this and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me at all the first time.”

  “But I can’t promise I’ll behave myself this time. It’s been a very long time for me.”

  Her eyes widened. “It has?”

  “I haven’t been with a woman since before Selena died.”

  The stricken look on her face made his gut tighten. “Was this…? I mean…you don’t feel guilty, you don’t feel like…?”

  “Do I feel like I betrayed my wife?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “No. It wasn’t about that. There was no woman that I wanted to be with. I’d dated casually and I had put that behind me. I was married for seven years and I still wanted the stability it offered. Yet I didn’t want to get married again, either. That didn’t leave me with a lot of options.”

  “And then you got stuck with me,” she said, her smile sad now.

  He shifted to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “I didn’t want to get married again because my marriage was such a disaster in the end,” he said, finally saying what he’d never before voiced out loud. “Selena and I no longer shared a bed, or much of anything else. There was no way for me to reach her anymore, and I stopped trying. Then she was killed in the car accident while I was away on business. I wasn’t even there to hold her hand while she died. It was my job to protect her, and I didn’t.”

  “Oh, Max.” She buried her face in his chest as he cupped the back of her head, stroking her hair. “You couldn’t have protected her from that.”

  “I should have been there for her. At the very least I could have done that. I could have tried harder to make her happy.”

  “If she wouldn’t talk to you there was nothing you could do to make her. She chose not to share with you.”

  “One person cannot bear all the blame when a marriage dissolves. She was fragile, and life forced her to endure things that would have wounded a much stronger person. I had a duty to my wife that I didn’t fulfill.”

  Her expression turned fierce, a golden spark lighting her eyes. She put her hand on his cheek. “We have a duty to each other, Max. To make this work. I promise I’ll never close up like that on you. I won’t freeze you out. We’ll always talk.”

  He kissed her softly on the corner of her lips, then more firmly as he rolled her underneath him. The feeling that swelled in his chest when she made that promise was far too much, far too intense. It shouldn’t matter. His relationship with Alison was about passion, and their baby. Nothing more. Emotions simply didn’t enter the equation.

  But that simple vow kept pounding through him as he made love to her, fueled his desire for her. And when she cried out his name during her orgasm it pulled feelings from his hardened heart that he’d no longer imagined himself capable of.

  Chapter Ten

  “YOUR belly is starting to show.” Maximo put his arms around Alison from behind and caressed her bare midsection. She had been examining herself in the mirror in the master suite, sucking in her expanding stomach.

  She swatted at his hand. “Just what every woman wants to hear!”

  “It’s sexy.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed the hollow just beneath her ear. “You must know how sexy I think you are.”

  She knew. Maximo had spent all night showing her just how sexy he thought she was. It had been a revelation. She’d discovered a whole, huge part of herself she hadn’t even known existed. A part of herself she’d spent far too long suppressing. She’d given her control over to Maximo for a while, and it had been freeing in a way she’d never imagined it could be. And now that they were out of bed she had her control back, and her heart was still intact. She could do this. She could maintain her independence and have a relationship with him. She wasn’t going to love him, or need him in any way beyond the physical.

  “The feeling is definitely mutual.” She turned and wound her arms around his neck and traced his squared jaw with her fingertip. A tidal wave of possessiveness crashed over her. He was so very handsome. And he was hers. “I’m going to hold you to that forsaking all others bit in the marriage vows.”

  “I will keep my vows, Alison. Why take them otherwise?”

  “Millions of people make the same vows all the time. It doesn’t guarantee the promise will be kept.”

  “It may surprise you to know that I’m familiar with the issues people face in marriage.”

  She winced. “Sorry, but I told you I’d talk to you if I had issues. I just wanted to let you know I was feeling possessive.”

  He offered her a tight smile. “I appreciate that. Maybe if Selena had talked to me we wouldn’t have grown so far apart.” He moved away from her and walked to the closet, pulling out a T-shirt and shrugging it over his head. “Of course, even saving our marriage wouldn’t have changed anything in the end.”

  “You couldn’t have saved her if you were there, Max. It was an accident. It wouldn’t have changed anything. You did what you could in your marriage. It isn’t your fault that she wouldn’t talk to you.”

  He shook his head. “She depended on me. I shou
ld have tried harder. Instead I got frustrated. I worked more. I should warn you that I’m not a very good husband. I’m not good at reading emotions. I travel a lot. I get absorbed with my business.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “You’re a good man, Maximo. You’re going to be a good husband, and a wonderful father. In my line of work I’ve dissolved more marriages than I care to think about, and then, at the Children’s Advocacy Center I saw a lot of men who were lousy husbands and fathers. You’re not like them.”

  “You say that, Alison, and I think you even mean it, but you’ve only known me for three weeks. Selena had seven years to grow disenchanted with me.”

  “I think all marriages can lose their luster if you let them,” she said firmly. “But we’re getting married for a reason.”

  “The baby.” He put his hands over her rounded belly and rested her palm over them.

  “Yes. That reason is never going to go away. We’ll always have our child in common.”

  “And that’s enough for you?”

  She gave him a level stare, her eyes never wavering from his. “It has to be, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded firmly. Decidedly. “Yes.”

  “Then it is. We’re going to make this work for our child. We’re going to make a family. That’s all that matters. When I make my vows I’ll keep them.”

  Maximo ignored the tightening sensation in his chest. Ignored the voice in his head berating him for allowing this woman to settle for so much less than she deserved. “Then you would be in the minority.”

  She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I’m used to that by now. I was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin until last night, remember?” She gave him a sly grin.

  “How could I forget?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you need your memory refreshed.” And then she was in his arms, stroking his back with her hands and practically purring.

  This was enough. Enough for both of them. He would do everything in his power to make it enough.

  “Alison?” He cupped her bare hip bone with his hands and did wicked things to the indent that led from there to her femininity.

  “Hmm?” she half moaned.

  “I want to show you something.”

  “You already did that—” she snuggled into him “—twice,” she added playfully.

  “Not that.”

  She sighed. “I suppose we have to get out of bed at some point.”

  “It is advised.”

  They had spent most of the morning in bed and it was late afternoon now. Alison was languid, satisfied in a way, but far from sated. There would never be a time when she wouldn’t crave the way Max made her feel. When he kissed her, caressed her, entered her, she felt complete.

  “All right, but you have to feed the baby and me first.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of being neglectful.”

  He made good on his promise and fed her lunch—a creamy pasta dish that made her very happy. Now that her morning sickness had passed she found she was loving food again, more than usual even. After she was finished, Max took her hand and led her out of the villa and into the courtyard.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m being led astray?” she asked, the wicked grin on his face making her stomach flutter.

  “I have no idea. I promise you my intentions are entirely pure.”

  “Somehow, I very much doubt that there’s anything pure in your mind except for purely naughty thoughts.”

  He laughed and the sound made her heart jump in her chest. “No. You’ll see.”

  There was a small whitewashed building that rested on an outcrop of rock that overlooked the beach below. It seemed as though it was nearly carved into the cliff, a part of nature. It had obviously been built years earlier than the villa, the mature, creeping vines that covered the side attesting to that fact.

  “This is lovely,” she said.

  “It’s one of the reasons I picked this location to build the villa. The natural lighting inside the studio is amazing.” He took a key out of his jeans pocket and put it into the ancient keyhole.

  Alison was surprised by the renovation that had been done to the inside, which was light and airy, modern.

  “There’s a bedroom and bathroom through there.” He pointed through the galley-style kitchenette and to a door that stood closed. There was sparse furniture in the main room, a couch, an easel and paintings lining the walls, all beautifully, photo-realistically done.

  “Max…you did these, didn’t you?” She could see it in each brushstroke, so controlled, so carefully placed. Maximo captured the essence of what he painted, kept the life that possessed his subject in the real world and translated it to the canvas. It didn’t possess the freedom of expression, the broad, abstract work of a modern artist, but it wouldn’t have been Max if it had.

  “Yes.”

  “Does anyone know?”

  He shook his dark head and came to stand close behind her. “It’s something I’ve dabbled in over the years, but never devoted much time to.”

  “That’s a crime! Max, these are beautiful!” She moved up close to a landscape portrait of the waves crashing on the rocks. It was the view out the window it was placed next to, and it rivaled the real thing. The water was alive and the wind was a living thing, too, moving the grass in a sea of green ripples.

  “It isn’t what’s popular. I invest in art. I wouldn’t invest in these. They’re the kind of pictures that hang in a doctor’s office.”

  “They’re amazing.” She reached a hand out, letting it hover over the exquisite work. “Do you only do landscapes?”

  “So far. As I said, I haven’t had much time to devote to it.”

  “Selena never saw them?” she asked gently, watching his eyes darken with stormy emotion.

  “No.” Just no. No explanation. She didn’t need one. Selena had not loved the man standing before her. She may have loved the idea of him. The powerful, handsome prince with the gorgeous body and amazing bedroom skills. But she hadn’t loved him. He was so much more than what he chose to show the world. And she had been blessed with a window into his heart.

  “I’m honored that you showed me.”

  He turned to her. “I want to paint you.”

  “Me?”

  He laughed. “Yes. I have never done a portrait. I haven’t been inspired to. But I want to paint you.”

  This was more intimate for him, she realized, than making love. He was sharing something with her that he had not shared with any other woman, any other person, period. That did something to her. It made the most bittersweet pain twist her heart, made her stomach tighten with longing.

  “I would like that.”

  He put an arm around her and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up so that their eyes met. “I want to paint all of you.”

  Realization of what that meant dawned slowly. “I can’t do that!” she protested, her cheeks heating at the idea of getting naked in such bright daylight and lying exposed for hours on end.

  “I’m realizing that you’re the kind of woman who can do anything she decides to do, and heaven help the man who stands in your way. But I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  She bit her lip. Still unsure.

  “Have I ever done anything to hurt you? Disrespect you?” he asked gently. She shook her head. “And I never will.”

  She nodded slowly. And she realized that in this moment he would be as bare as she was. Because this was a part of himself he’d never shared before. And he was exposing it to her, revealing himself. And she wanted to do the same.

  “I trust you.” She pushed the top button of her blouse through the loop and separated the fabric that concealed her body from him. Then the next one. And the next. And on to every other piece of clothing until she was standing bare in front of him. She fought the urge to cover up. It was different during lovemaking. He was so busy kissing and touching her, he wasn’t simply staring at her. And she was never fully conscious enough to be embarrassed of her b
ody during sex. But now she was acutely aware of the fact that her stomach was no longer flat and that her breasts had only grown more voluptuous, along with her hips. And he wanted to capture it eternally on canvas.

  She felt her whole body flush. “I’m not beautiful like…”

  “Don’t say you’re not beautiful. And don’t ever compare yourself to other women. You’re my woman. And I happen to find you exquisitely beautiful.”

  She thrilled at the raw, masculine possession that laced his voice. She should find him arrogant, or at least sexist. She couldn’t.

  Maximo could barely keep his desire leashed. She was so enchanting, pale and vulnerable, in the midafternoon sunlight that filtered in through the picture window, when she was normally so strong, wearing her independence like armor. The artist in him longed to paint her; the man in him simply wanted to make love to her until neither of them could think or move.

  He settled for picking up a sketch pad and a clutch pencil. “Sit on the couch.”

  She backed away from him and lowered herself onto the chaise-style couch, reclining. She rested her head on the gentle slope of the armrest and put one arm high above her head, raising her plump breasts.

  He wanted to capture everything, every curve, every line. The dent in her sweet lips, the pout in her nipples, the perfect V at the juncture of her thighs…Mostly he wanted the molten fire in her golden eyes to translate to the canvas.

  Her body, tense at first, began to relax as he began to sketch. His hand moved fluidly, shaping her curves, shading the dips and hollows of her body. He drew the fullness of her breasts and ached to cup them. She arched her back as though she knew what portion of her body he was stroking with the pencil, as though she knew and wanted his touch as badly as he wanted to touch her. His body hardened painfully.

  He added her small waist, her soft belly, the small bump where their baby sat. He moved lower and she gasped, her pulse pounding at the base of her neck. She moaned softly as he traced the outline of her sex on the paper. She pressed her legs together and slid her foot up her smooth thigh as he continued his study of her, as he continued to capture her forever.