Modern Romance March 2017 Books 5 -8. Natalie Anderson

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СКАЧАТЬ adjust to us before we think about a baby. Not to mention the fact that I need to take advantage of the career opportunities in front of me. Now is not a good time for a baby. You said so yourself, we have time.”

      “We do,” he agreed. “I’m not sure I’d say we have lots of it because my mother is right, it could take us time to conceive. Also—” He stopped in midsentence, a wary look in his eyes.

      Her stomach bottomed out. “Also what?”

      “We miscarried last time. It could happen again. Which is why we need to give ourselves time.”

      Fear and anger balled up inside of her. “I am not ready to have this discussion.”

      “Because you’re scared?” he countered softly. “I understand if you are, Angie. I am, too. But we have to talk about it. We can’t push it away as if it doesn’t exist.”

      She pinned her gaze on his. “I’m saying I’m not ready. That we need to work on us before we start talking babies.”

      “Bene.” His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “I am in full agreement on that point. So why don’t you come over here? You’re much too far away.”

      Her heart slammed against her ribs. “I don’t think so.”

      “Oh, I think so,” he murmured. “The only question is if you are coming over here or I’m coming over there. You make the choice.”

      Her blood pulsed through her veins in a restless purr. That kiss earlier, his hands on her all evening, had stirred her senses. But she was angry, too—furious about that baby conversation and being treated like a...vessel for the Ricci family.

      “Time’s up.” He pushed away from the side of the tub, snared an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping her legs around his hips.

      Her breath caught in her throat, heart slamming against her ribs. “What are you doing?”

      “Getting to know each other again. Just like you suggested...” He shot her a look filled with sensual heat, his throaty tone arcing straight between her thighs. “Relax, mia cara. I intend only to kiss you. A lot.” He lifted a brow. “What do you Americans call it? Making out? Necking?”

      “Lorenzo,” she said faintly, overwhelmed by all that heat and muscle singeing her skin, “stop playing with me.”

      “I don’t think so,” he murmured, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Isn’t kissing the universal language? Maybe it will work for us, too.”

      She opened her mouth to tell him she was still angry with him. He lowered his head and caught her lips with his before she could get the words out. She set her palms on his shoulders to reject him, to tell him absolutely not. But his soft, seductive kisses seduced, persuaded. He nipped her bottom lip, sucking gently on her top one, sliding under her defenses like warm, sweet honey.

      Melting from the inside out, she dug her nails into his muscular, sinewy shoulders. Hard.

      “What?”

      “I’m still mad at you. You can’t avoid the baby issue by kissing me. I need time, Lorenzo. You have to give me that.”

      “Okay.” He brushed his thumb over the pulse pounding at the base of her neck. “I’ll give you time.”

      She blinked. “You will?”

      “Sì.”

      Not expecting such an easy capitulation, she was momentarily silenced. He tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear, dark eyes on hers. “What else is going on in that beautiful head of yours? It’s like smoke coming out of your ears.”

      She shook her head.

      “Angelina.” His low, sensual tone promised retribution if she didn’t spill.

      “I’m scared,” she said finally. “Terrified.”

      “Of what?”

      Of letting herself want him again, need him again. Of letting herself feel the things she hadn’t let herself feel since she’d left him because she could get hurt, because he would see beneath her skin as he always had. Of letting him make her whole again, then shatter her apart, because this time she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick up the pieces.

      She closed her eyes. Pulled in a breath. “We were so good together. Then it all fell apart. I’m afraid of letting myself go there again only to have you shut down.”

      He shook his head. “I am not perfect. I have my moods, you know that. But I promise you it will not be the same. We will talk through our stumbles, work through them together. This is not about what was, Angelina, it is about what we are building together.”

      She swallowed past the fear bubbling up inside of her. The trust they’d built over these last emotional weeks together made her think they might be able to do it.

      He tilted her chin up with his fingers. “We decide where this goes. But you have to commit. You have to trust. You have to believe we can do this.”

      “I do,” she said quietly. “But we need to take it slow.”

      That wicked gleam in his eyes reappeared. “What do you think I’m doing?”

      She didn’t protest when he slid his palm to the nape of her neck and brought her back to him, his beautiful mouth claiming hers. Delivered on the leisurely, sensual make-out session he’d promised until her toes curled with pleasure. Full of heat and oh, so much promise, sweetness and play devolved into a deeper, fiery need.

      She opened to his demand, his tongue stroking and licking while his hands kept her in place for his delectation. She curled her fingers in his hair, sighed his name and pulled him closer still. It had been too long, far too long since he’d touched her like this. It was like returning to heaven—a most dangerous paradise, she knew, but she couldn’t deny she wanted it...wanted to revel in it.

      Her husband shifted beneath her, his highly aroused body brushing against her thighs. Shock waves coursed through her nerve endings, lighting her on fire.

      He lifted his mouth from hers, a wry smile curving his mouth. “This would be where the make-out session ends and something else entirely begins. Unless,” he drawled, “you’ve changed your mind?”

      Heat claimed her cheeks. All it would take was one more kiss, one sign from her she was ready and she could have him. But unleashing that kind of intimacy with her husband would bring all her walls tumbling down—it always had. And she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

      “I can wait,” he murmured, tracing a knuckle down her cheek. “But be prepared, Angelina. When this does happen, one tame roll in that bed in there will not be enough.”

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ANGIE SPENT THE following week immersed in a flurry of activity leading up to Alexander’s show. Likely a good thing given the confusing mixture of anticipation and apprehension engulfing her at the evolution of her and Lorenzo’s relationship.

      Their СКАЧАТЬ