by Maisey Yates
She put her hands on his broad chest, touching him, tasting the salty skin at the base of his throat as though it was the first time. Everything seemed new. Fresh. She pushed his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the ground to join her rumpled blouse.
She undid the snap on his jeans, her eyes utterly transfixed on the line of hair that ran down his taught, flat belly and disappeared into his pants. She knew where it led, and yet the curiosity and excitement she felt made it seem as though she didn’t.
“You’re so sexy,” she breathed.
With a growl he pushed her onto the couch, settling between her willing thighs. “Oh, Alison, my love, you don’t know how that makes me feel. It’s unlike anything else in this life.”
“I think I have an idea.” She opened herself to him, bring his shaft against the moist heart of her body.
He kissed her, deeply, all consuming, as though he was trying to devour her. He stripped her pants and underwear off in one fluid movement and then took care of his own, leaving them naked. No barriers. Nothing between them. It was as honest as two people could be with one another. There were no secrets between them, no way to hide anything. Not their insecurities, not the bulge of her tummy that housed their child, not the feeling of pure, sweet love, coursing between them.
She positioned herself over his body and took him inside of her slowly, relishing the feeling of becoming one with him. She felt herself expand to accommodate him and she sighed with completion and satisfaction when he was buried in her up to the hilt.
She rose and fell, taking him in and pulling away almost completely each time. The rhythm took them over and they were both climbing together, their breathing synchronized, her body tightening, his expanding.
She locked eyes with him, felt tears starting to fall as she looked at the emotion in them. Emotion she was certain was mirrored in her own. They went over the edge together, holding each other, his arms the only thing keeping her from flying apart.
He cradled her in his arms, whispering soft, sweet words, flowing seamlessly from Italian to English.
“Te amo,” he said. “I love you.”
“Max.” Her voice was thick with emotion, her heart so full she thought it might not be able to hold all he was making her feel.
“I love you. I know I could have said it earlier, but I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you my heart, the painting. I wanted to show you my need, my desperation, by making love to you. Words are only words. By my actions I hoped to prove it to you. I have never felt anything like this before. You talked about need making people weak, and I was certainly a believer in that principle. But you were so brave, so enchanting. Your love for our child, your strength, everything about you called to me on such a deep level, and I couldn’t control what I felt for you. I wanted you to the point of constant distraction. I needed you. It—” he hesitated “—it frightened me. I didn’t want to love a woman so much, with such an all-consuming passion. But you gave me no choice. I was powerless to stop myself from falling in love with you.”
“I thought you didn’t want the baby anymore. Or me, for that matter.”
“What?”
“It started after the call from the doctor. I thought you were having second thoughts about tying yourself to me, about being a father. You didn’t choose this, Max. You didn’t choose me and I…”
“No, I didn’t choose you. You were chosen for me. I didn’t know what was best for me. I can only be thankful for divine intervention.”
“Who said you weren’t good with words?”
He leaned in and kissed her, his lips teasing hers softly. She sighed when they parted, absolute bliss radiating through her.
“I’m much better at other forms of communication,” he said.
“Show me.”
“It will be my greatest pleasure for the rest of my life.”
Epilogue
PRINCIPESSA Eliana Rossi came into the world with her mother’s golden hair and her father’s set of lungs. At least that’s what Alison said.
“She’s beautiful. Just like her mamma,” he said, bending over to kiss both of his women. He had only been a father for a few hours, but they had already been the most spectacular hours of his life. His love for Alison had only deepened in the past few months. Seeing her now, holding Eliana, he felt so full of love he thought he might burst.
“She’s hungry,” Alison said, lowering the top of her hospital gown and helping her daughter latch to her breast. Maximo had never seen anything more wonderful.
“Let’s have lots of children,” he declared, utterly fascinated by the miracle in front of him.
She gave him a hard glare. “Wait until I recover before you even mention such a thing.”
He grinned at her, sheepishly. “Good idea.”
“Someday she’s going to be the queen,” Alison said softly.
“Yes,” he agreed, “but for now she’s just our daughter, and we’ll do all we can to make sure she stays a little girl as long as possible.” He looked down at the tiny pink bundle. “I’m in no hurry for her to grow up.”
“You know something, Principe Maximo D’Angelo Rossi?” Her golden eyes shone with love as she looked at him, and he was concerned that his heart really might burst. “I think I love you even more today than I did yesterday.”
He bent and kissed her again, savoring the taste of her sweet lips. “I feel the same way. And I think I’ll love you even more tomorrow.”
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2010
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18–24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Maisey Yates 2010
ISBN: 978-1-408-91938-5