Happy Mother’s Day!: Accidentally Pregnant, Conveniently Wed / Claiming His Pregnant Wife / Meant-To-Be Mother. Элли Блейк

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      ‘Go and hang your dress up,’ he instructed as he stood up.

      And Aisling knew that this was all part of the fantasy they were acting out. One night of erotic make-believe which she had agreed to—and she had her own part to play. She couldn’t pretend to be some little untutored innocent—even if the dark look of promise in his eyes was making her feel a bit that way.

      So she walked down the corridor as unselfconsciously as possible.

      ‘Lentamente … slowly,’ he commanded huskily as he ran his eyes over her small shoulders, the narrow curvature of her waist—swelling out to the slim bell of her hips. The dark hair fell down her back like a gleaming curtain as she walked with a certain natural grace—yet she did not strut, as a lot of women would if they were being watched by a man.

      But when she reached the bedroom, Aisling’s stomach began to knot with nerves. It was like something usually featured in one of those brick-sized glossy magazines you found lying around at the hairdressers’—with a bed the size of a soccer pitch and a disconcerting amount of mirrors.

      She sensed rather than heard him enter the room behind her and she forced herself to examine the room as if she were a prospective buyer—anything to buy her time to suppress the debilitating nerves which were suddenly making breathing very difficult.

      There was a giant TV screen and electronically controlled blinds, which Gianluca immediately clicked to float down, so that the room was bathed in some surreal, subterranean light.

      ‘Now.’ He walked up behind her and lifted the silken curtain of her hair to nuzzle at her neck. ‘Are you going to turn around and kiss me?’

      She was trembling uncontrollably as she did so, aware that she was almost naked and he was not. ‘There’s a slightly unfair distribution of clothes around here,’ she said.

      He laughed. ‘Then even it up a little, mmm?’

      Her fingers were shaking as she unknotted his silk tie, but he took it from her when she was done and tossed it aside, his black eyes alive with mockery. ‘I’ll send everything out to the laundry,’ he promised. ‘Because I don’t want to waste precious minutes while you press my suit with your need for neatness and order!’

      Was he making fun of her again? But somehow it didn’t matter. In fact, nothing mattered apart from what lay ahead. And suddenly Aisling wanted to kick all her usual values into touch—just for that one night. She began to tug at his silk shirt and when a button flew off he gave a low laugh of pleasure—so she tugged even harder and another bounced onto the polished floor.

      ‘Easy, tiger!’ he teased.

      ‘But you’re the tiger!’ she retorted, enjoying his instinctive moan as she began to unbuckle his belt. ‘Il Tigre.’

      ‘You’ve been reading too many press cuttings,’ he groaned. ‘That’s my job.’

      ‘Just shut up about your job for a minute, will you?’ he said fiercely.

      And now he was unclipping her bra—and his mouth was on her breast and she was bucking with pleasure. She was aware that she was making a mewing sound, like a cat, and that she was inciting him with broken little pleas in between kisses.

      And suddenly she could hear the rasping sound of his zip, could feel the formidable power of him springing against her bare skin, and she swayed as he began to push her down to the floor. Now was not the time to tell him that she had never done it on the floor of a luxury penthouse before.

      But if he noticed her lack of sophistication, it didn’t seem to matter—because he seemed so fired up with excitement that his body was quivering like a tight bow which was stretched to breaking point. He swore again.

      ‘What is it?’ she questioned, between kisses.

      ‘I’ll have to go and find a damned condom.’

      ‘There’s no need. I’m … I’m protected.’

      He raised his head. ‘But last time—’

      Stupid to be shy about the subject of contraception when they were only centimetres away from the ultimate intimacy. ‘What happened last time was what galvanised me into going on the pill.’ She took a deep breath. There was no need to tell him that she had been scared she wouldn’t be able to resist him if ever he tried to seduce her again. And hadn’t she been wise to think that?

      ‘I see.’ He paused for a moment, feeling a complicated mixture of relief that she was prepared for this and yet an intense and inexpicable jealousy at the thought that one day another man might make love to her like this. But that was nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. This was one night and one night only.

      She closed her eyes and gasped as he peeled off her panties, his fingers slicking into her honeyed heat as he moved them against the delicate skin in a relentlessly pleasurable rhythm. And then he lifted her up and entered her with one powerful movement and Aisling felt a warm rush as he filled her—so hard and so proud that she sobbed out loud—but everything was happening so quickly.

      He was kissing her and moving deep within her, her legs wrapped around his back as she felt the beckoning of her climax and then the first unbelievably powerful wrench as it sucked her under, over and over again—until he made one last, powerful thrust and cried out something in his native tongue.

      His head fell onto her shoulder and she could feel the ragged rhythm of his breath and the faint sheen of sweat against her skin and she had to bite back a little cry of sheer wonderment.

      How beautiful he was. She wanted to tell him that—and more, too. Crazy, mixed-up thoughts, which were bubbling to the forefront of her mind like a soup, but she held them back. Was that what happened to every woman during lovemaking? she wondered. Was it some sort of evolutionary mechanism which made your feelings for a man crystallise when he had possessed you as thoroughly as Gianluca had just done?

      I could quite easily love you, she thought suddenly. She reached out her hands and ran them through the ebony ruffle of his hair, and something in the gesture made him lift his head, his eyes all hooded. This was Il Tigre at his most watchful and alert. ‘Are you okay?’ he queried.

      Of all the things he could have said, it was possibly the most inadequate he could have chosen. The kind he might have asked at the end of a long and difficult business meeting. But maybe that was how he regarded it. It was certainly the kind of attitude they’d agreed on before it had all happened. So don’t let your stupid feelings show, she told herself. This is one night, no more. ‘I’m fine,’ she said lightly, her face lighting with a quick smile.

      Fine? What kind of a testimony was that? Gianluca surveyed her naked body with the glitter of irritation. Only the rosy bloom which flowered above her breasts gave any indication that she had just been gasping her pleasure in his arms. From the detached expression on her face, you’d think she’d done nothing more exciting than going to the supermarket!

      His mouth curved. Let her discover that he had only just begun—and that by the end of the night she would be gazing at him with the rapt adoration he saw as his due. After he had finished with her, she would not regard him so carelessly!

      ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said harshly.

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