In the Italian's Bed: Bedded for Pleasure, Purchased for Pregnancy / The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain / The Italian Count's Defiant Bride. Carol Marinelli

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      She’d expected the frenzy to continue, but Zarios slowed things down. As they sank to their knees he rested on his heels, devouring every inch of her with hungry eyes, one single finger tracing the length of her body. She quivered under his scrutiny. Pathetically grateful she’d taken her panties off when she’d had a spray tan, Emma was agog with terror as she watched him harden to his full, impressive length. Her stomach curled inside as his fingers moved down and slowly stroked her damp blonde curls.

      ‘All night I thought of you.’ His knees parted hers, the dark hair on his legs scratching against her thighs, pushing them apart until he exposed her. He began to stroke her slowly.

      Unable to stop herself, Emma admitted the same. ‘I thought of you, too.’

      She was having trouble breathing for entirely different reasons now.

      ‘I thought of this.’ He slid a finger inside her, the nub of his thumb working her clitoris. ‘And then I thought of this…’ He lowered his head and suckled on her nipple, the rhythmic sucking matching his handiwork.

      Her head arched back as he worked her, and in a moment of weakness again she admitted the same. ‘I thought of this, too.’

      He was huge—worryingly so, excitingly so. Her head was back down, watching as her fingers instinctively reached for him as if they belonged to someone else. She began to stroke him in the same slow motion with which he was stroking her. She could see his mouth still suckling her breast, but she gazed down beyond it, one greedy finger taking the silver pearl of moisture from his tip and massaging it into the soft velvety skin that belied the strength beneath.

      ‘Attente!’ His voice was thick, the words spoken between greedy mouthfuls. ‘Be careful.’

      And then he looked up, warning her, offering her an out. But her voice, when it came, was absolutely sure. ‘I don’t want to be careful!’

      It was all the confirmation he needed to go on, and, oh, the bliss as he guided her onto the daybed. She braced herself for his weight, but it never came, his fingers instead working their magic, sliding deep inside her as his erection hovered at her entrance. She was a frenzy of sensation, a bleating mess of indecision, wanting him to go on, but wanting him to come in. She could hear the sounds of her own moisture as he massaged her deeply, as he made sure beyond doubt that her tight space was oiled and ready to accommodate him. And thank heavens he did, because even with his lavish attention, even with a body that was cooing and aching to be filled, she felt a sudden pain when he entered, a delicious hurt as he filled her. The heat was building as he pushed so hard inside her, so deep within her, she could feel the bruise of her cervix.

      She was coming, biting his salty chest, wrapping her calves around his muscular back. Still he bucked inside her, the throb of her orgasm gripping him, but it didn’t match his strength because he pushed her on.

      ‘Zarios…’ She wanted him to stop, was almost scared that he might continue. Her twitching body was surely spent, but still she could feel him swell further, feel the more urgent, reckless staccato rhythm of his thrust, and she was coming again, her orgasm more intense than she could have ever dared to imagine it might be. Her hands were two balled fists of tension on his back. Unfurling her fingers was an impossible task as every muscle in her body twitched in spasm as she received him, felt a shudder of tension rip through him, and then the warm melt of him on her.

      And then he kissed her.

      His tongue was strangely cold as his lazy kiss brought her round, welcoming her back to a world that was brighter, and somehow very different.

      ‘If I swim out again will you rescue me?’

      ‘That is not funny.’

      ‘Well, that wasn’t a very good deterrent.’

      ‘I might not be here next time to save you…’

      As he looked down at her Emma realised that his eyes, though they looked black, were actually the darkest deepest indigo, more purple than blue, and a colour she wanted to capture and recreate with her brush. Only, even with her artistic prowess, she wasn’t sure she could do the colour justice.

      ‘Although I would like to be there.’

      And she knew he wasn’t talking about swimming—knew, because at that moment they were so close words were hardly needed. A new language was forming, and their minds were meeting with the same force their bodies had and blending just as perfectly.

      ‘I’d like you to be there.’

      ‘Let’s get you back to the house.’ He held her tighter as he spoke. ‘This weekend cannot be about us. I want your father to enjoy his celebration.’ He kissed her very slowly. ‘Emma, this is big.’

      A rather facetious comment was on the tip of her tongue, given the length of him on her thigh, but Emma restrained herself. Her mind was simply being kind, using humour to deflect the seriousness of his words for a moment. What they had just found was monumental.

      ‘I know.’

      There was nothing to joke about.

      ‘We need to be very sure, and we need to get our heads around things ourselves before we share this with our families.’

      Oh, he was right. If there was even a hint of romance today, the whole dynamics of the weekend would shift. They had to get used to things first, before they revealed their feelings to the world.

      There wasn’t a flicker of question or doubt in her eyes as she stared back at him.

      For that moment at least, she absolutely trusted him.

      ‘There you are!’ Lydia smiled when, a considerable time later, a rather bedraggled Emma appeared. ‘We were about to send out a search party.’

      ‘I was enjoying a walk.’

      ‘And the water!’ Lydia frowned at the knot of wet hair trailing down her back.

      Given that it was now after eight Emma could be a touch honest. ‘I had a swim—I couldn’t resist.’ Emma flushed, her heart thumping as, not for the first time, she realised just how disastrous the consequences might have been had Zarios not saved her. Thankfully Lydia was too wrapped up in preparing for the champagne breakfast to question her further. ‘Do you need me to do anything, Mum?’

      ‘Get changed, darling!’ Lydia scolded, pulling out of the fridge the vast bowl of Strawberries Romanof that Emma had yesterday painstakingly prepared for the occasion without comment, then twittering with delight as she pulled back the cloth on the basket of rolls and pastries that had thankfully been delivered.

      ‘He’s gone way over the top, as always…’ Lydia tutted at the contents. ‘But then, that’s Jake!’

      The shower was bliss—warm water washing away the salt, her body burning still from Zarios’s attention. Massaging conditioner into her hair, Emma closed her eyes and revelled in the sheer wonder of being alive, every nerve in her body tingling as she recalled his hands and mouth on her. Her heart was fluttering with excitement, and she cradled her knowledge like a treasured gift—scarcely able to comprehend that in just a few short hours everything had changed.

      She dressed in pale khaki shorts and a СКАЧАТЬ