Читать книгу Luxury Escapes: A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy / Hired by Her Husband / Captured and Crowned - Anne McAllister, Anne McAllister - Страница 15

MAXIMO opened the door to Alison’s bedroom without knocking. She was asleep and her beauty stole his breath, made him feel weak with desire, like a starving man in desperate need of nourishment. Even with all of the turmoil inside of him, he still wanted her.

“Alison.” He sat down on the bed and took her hand in his. “Alison.” He moved his other hand over her face, brushed her hair back. She stirred beneath his touch, her body arching, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

His body hardened instantly, his stomach tightening. “Wake up, Alison.”

She rubbed her hand over her eyes and rolled to the side, her coppery eyes cloudy with sleep, her hair tousled. And he had never seen a more beautiful woman. She was so beautiful it made him ache.

“Max?” his name on her lips, her voice thick with sleep, was the single most arousing thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“The doctor called.”

She sat up quickly, pushing her hair back. “What did she say?” The film of tears in her eyes made his heart feel too large for his chest.

“I’m not a carrier. There isn’t a chance our baby will have Cystic Fibrosis.”

A short cry escaped her lips and she threw her arms around his neck, sobs shaking her frame. He held her close and let her release all of her emotion, let her do it for both of them. He held her until his neck was wet with her tears.

“I was so afraid,” she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw. “I thought … I didn’t want to watch our child die, Max.”

“You won’t have to.”

“My sister was so young when it took her. It was horrible. It killed me to see it happen to her, to watch her just get weaker. I couldn’t have gone through it with our baby.”

His heart burned for her, her pain so real, so much a part of him, that he felt it all the way in his bones. “I didn’t know you’d been through that.”

“That was why …” She took a gulp of air. “That was why it was so important to me to know. I needed to prepare myself. I couldn’t just be blindsided with something like that. I don’t know if there would ever have been a way to be really prepared for it … but knowing now. Oh, it’s such a relief.”

She pulled back and started to wipe the moisture from her tearstained face. Her nose was red, her eyes swollen, and still he wanted her so much it was physically painful to hold himself back. Seeing the intensity of her love for their child only increased his desire for her.

He cupped the back of her head, stroking his thumb over her silky, strawberry locks. “No matter what, we would have made it. There’s no way we could love our baby more or less than we do. But I’m very glad that we don’t have to worry about that.”

“Me, too.”

Her arms were still linked around his neck and she very slowly moved her hands so that her fingers were twined through his hair. She moved them slowly, sliding them through, her touch sending shock waves of hot pleasure rippling through him. It was such a simple touch. In general he would have said there wasn’t anything erotic about it. Except in this moment, with this woman, it was the single most erotic sensation he could ever remember feeling.

She leaned in slightly, her eyelids lowering, her lashes fanning over her cheeks. Her mouth was so close to his that one slight movement would join them together. But he wanted her to do it. Wanted her to make the move.

“Max, I don’t really know what I’m doing here, but I don’t know if I can stop myself, either,” she whispered, her breath hot and sweet against his lips.

Then she closed the distance between them, settling her lips over his, her kiss tentative, almost shy. It was strange because there was nothing insecure or shy about Alison, and yet she kissed almost as if she was an innocent. Not that he could claim personal experience in that area.

When the tip of her tongue touched his lower lip his control snapped completely. He growled, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers. She parted her lips for him, granting him access, her feminine moan of pleasure tightening his gut, increasing his arousal.

He slowly pressed her down on the bed. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against his chest. They had too many clothes on. He needed her naked. He needed to be naked. To be able to slide inside of her, and finally purge himself of the almost surreal level of desire he felt for her.

He moved his hands over her curves, cupped her breasts, teased the hardened points of her nipples. He could come just touching her, even through her clothes. Never, not even when he’d been a teenage virgin, had a woman ever tested his self-control like this.

“Wait,” she said, rolling away from him, her eyes wide. “I don’t … I can’t …” Her breathing was ragged, her lips swollen. “I can’t.”

“Why is it that you can’t all of a sudden? You want this—I know you do.”

“I don’t,” she said, her breathing ragged. “I’m sorry. We … it would be better if we were just friends. What would happen if this—” she gestured to the air between them “—didn’t work out? Then we would be bitter divorcés shuttling our child back and forth and sharing holidays. But if we just keep it platonic then things would be simpler. It’s the smartest thing to do.”

“I have no trouble keeping my commitments. When I speak my vows to you I will mean them. If you see divorce in our future it will not be me that’s instigated it.”

Alison forked her shaking fingers in her hair. “Well, I have no intention of divorcing you, but when you introduce sex into a relationship it complicates things.”

Maximo stood up from the bed, not bothering to hide the thick length of his erection that was pressing against the front of his slacks. “Things are already complicated by the attraction between us. Sex would only alleviate some of the tension.”

He turned and walked out of the room. Alison cursed out loud to the empty room. Why had she done that? Why had she kissed him like a sex-starved maniac?

And why did you stop him? That was the question her body was asking. She was so hot for him, wet for him, needy for him. His kiss had totally stolen every ounce of her control. She’d been ready to let him do anything he wanted with her, to her. She’d craved the loss of control, the descent into blissful oblivion at his hands.

And in the end that was what had jarred her back to reality. The feelings inside of her had gone so far beyond just a simple case of lust. And she couldn’t deal with that. She just couldn’t.

She didn’t want to fall in love. She liked Maximo too much already and if she gave into her desire for him what would keep her from falling all the way? Nothing. She was too dangerously close to love already to take the chance.

In that moment when he’d told her that the test was negative she’d just wanted to cling to him, and it had been so easy to imagine that their relationship was real, and that they were a real couple, drawing support and strength from each other.

But that wasn’t the case. They were just two strangers thrown together, making the most out of a crazy situation. He had his life, she had hers, and together they had the baby. But that was all that linked them.

Maximo had said he wouldn’t divorce her, and maybe he wouldn’t. No matter what he would never abandon her baby.

He’d been faithful to Selena, but he’d loved Selena. Without love what was going to keep him interested in her? When she gained baby weight and got stretch marks, what would make her more interesting, more attractive than other women? And he could certainly have any woman he wanted.

There was no way, no way at all, that she was going to set herself up for that.

And if she had to spend the rest of her days achy and physically unsatisfied it would be a small price to pay to keep her soul from being irrevocably shattered.

Over the course of the next three weeks Maximo broke his promise to her. Oh, he never once tried to force himself on her, not that she had ever believed he would, but he didn’t try to seduce her, either. And some small, confused part of her was disappointed that he seemed to have accepted that she truly didn’t want a sexual relationship with him.

Now that he’d come to that conclusion she lay awake every night, her body on fire, her mind replaying snatches of every encounter she’d ever had with him. And then adding some more interesting things.

In her mind they hadn’t stopped the day they’d found out the test results. No, in her fantasies she had kept kissing him, had unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the hard muscles and golden skin she knew lay underneath. And he’d done the same to her: unbuttoned her shirt, flicked open the clasp of her bra and then he’d lower his head and take one tightened bud into his mouth …

Alison snapped the laptop she’d been using shut and stood abruptly. It was the computer Max had given her to establish contacts at the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. She and Max had discussed getting a Turani branch established after they’d found out the test results, and he’d given her the task of getting it mobilized. She didn’t really like doing all of the work over the Internet, but it had been better than just sitting around wallowing in her lust for the man she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let herself have.

Maximo had been nice enough to provide her with a computer, and a staggering budget. He’d also given her the use of an empty bedroom that had been converted into an office. The windows faced the ocean, the bright crystalline water offering her at least a modicum of stress relief, even if it could not take away the hunger that constantly gnawed at her.

It was getting so bad that she was starting to wonder exactly why she was denying herself what she so desperately wanted.

Imminent heartbreak, possible abandonment, the loss of all of your independence and hard-earned self-worth!

Her practical self remembered all of the reasons. It was the wanton little hussy that had control over her erogenous zones that seemed to forget.

Thankfully her morning sickness had abated. If she couldn’t have some measure of relief from the constant arousal that kept her in a perpetual state of heightened awareness, then at least she wasn’t also spending most of the morning with her head in the toilet.

Even now she felt restless, her body humming just from the knowledge that Maximo was down the hall working in his own office.

He’d been so good to her since they’d come to the island. He’d been kind and attentive and taken care of anything she could possibly need. He was playing the part of doting, but platonic, fiancé just perfectly. It was as if he was doing it on purpose to make her life miserable.

She stretched and tried to shake off the electric feeling of arousal that seemed to have attached itself to her every nerve ending. Her skin felt as if it was too tight for her body, and everything inside of her felt as if it might jump out and escape at any moment.

What she needed was some physical exertion. Badly. She’d been feeling so awful since she’d gotten pregnant that she hadn’t worked out at all. Maybe that was why she felt so jittery. She’d had no outlet for her energy; none of the release that a good bout of exercise always gave her.

It was way too easy to imagine ways she and Max might find some physical release together.

Walking out of the office and down the hall to her room, she made the decision to get out of the house and get some air. Maybe breathing in the stale atmosphere of the villa was chipping away at her common sense. Except the villa smelled wonderful and there was nothing stale about it, but hey, a girl needed her excuses.

She rifled through her belongings until she found a swimsuit that Maximo had had sent over to Maris a few days after they’d arrived. It was brief … shockingly so. The black, stretchy fabric didn’t have enough yardage to swaddle a newborn, and yet it was intended to cover a grown woman’s curves. And hers had only become more ample as her pregnancy progressed.

Her breasts were always a little full for her petite frame, but now they just made everything she wore seem indecent. The swimsuit was an extreme example of that.

She tried to ignore her reflection in the mirror, tried not to focus on her pale flesh spilling over the midnight fabric of the miniscule top. Sighing, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it firmly around herself, hiding her new, extra-lush curves and her burgeoning tummy, before padding down to the large Olympic-size pool.

Thankfully the pool area, like the rest of the villa, and the rest of the island, was extremely private. Large flowering bushes had been planted around the perimeter of the pool, just high enough to guard against curious eyes, but low enough to leave the view of the ocean visible.

Alison slid beneath the surface of the water, sighing as its coolness washed over her heated skin. She began to swim laps, reveling in the chance to burn off some of her restless energy. To let her mind go blank so that she could just forget about Maximo, even just for a moment.

When she reached the edge of the pool she gripped the cement lip, wiping the droplets of water from her face.

“You swim well.”

A sensual shiver shot through the length of her body. Would that voice never stop affecting her this way? Would she ever be able to just find Maximo’s presence … boring? Every day?

She looked up, her eyes widening as she took in the muscular legs, partially revealed by his board shorts, and, her eyes widened further, the broad expanse of his well-defined chest.

“Thank you,” she said tightly, swimming away from that end up the pool and moving to the ladder that hung over the side. “I was on the team in high school.” She climbed out of the water and grabbed her towel quickly, trying to cover the acres of bare skin that were on display thanks to her ridiculous swimsuit.

She turned to face him and her eyes were immediately drawn back to his superbly masculine chest. Good Lord, but he was one hot man. All hard muscle with just the right amount of dark chest hair sprinkled over his golden skin. Just enough to remind her how much of a man he was. As if she needed reminding. What she needed was to forget.

“So you swam in high school?”

She nodded, sitting on the lounger chair that was positioned beneath a palm tree shading the patio area. “I did a lot of things in high school. Swimming. The debate team. I worked on the school newspaper. Anything and everything to earn extra credit.”

“Let me guess … you had a 4.0 GPA?”

She shrugged. “I was capable of it so anything less would have been a failure. I needed to earn scholarships so that I could go to school.”

“Your parents didn’t offer to pay for your schooling?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the motion creating a fascinating play of muscle that she was powerless to look away from.

“My mother couldn’t have afforded it. When my …” She didn’t know why she was telling him anything, and yet it seemed so easy to talk to him. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to keep him there with her. She cleared her throat. “When my father left things became difficult for us financially. My mother didn’t have the means, or the drive, to earn a living for us.”

He lowered his dark eyebrows and rubbed a hand over his jaw, his skin rasping against the black stubble that was starting to grow. “Your father didn’t pay child support?”

“We didn’t even know where he was. He walked out the door one day and never came back. I haven’t heard from him in fifteen years.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Yes. It was harder for my mother, though. She just kind of self-destructed after he left. Kimberly was gone, and then Dad was, too, and she just didn’t seem to have it in her to keep going. So she sank instead. She nearly took me with her.”

He sat in the chair next to hers and leaned close, the musky scent of him teasing her senses. “Is that why you’re so independent?”

“I had to be. People aren’t going to take care of you—they’re going to take care of themselves. I just learned that at an earlier age than some. But I survived. I made my own way. My own success.”

“But there is no shame in accepting help from others.”

“That’s quite something coming from you. When was the last time you accepted help?”

A slow smile curved his lips. “I can’t remember.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“But some people need more help than others,” he said, a shadow passing over his face for a moment.

“I don’t believe that. Some people wallow rather than moving forward.”

“Is that what you think? That your mother should have tried harder?”

She nodded emphatically. “Yes. That’s what I think. You can’t just self-destruct because somebody leaves you in the lurch. It’s never a good idea to depend on someone like that. You become so accustomed to leaning on them that you get weak, and then when they leave, when they fail you, you won’t be able to stand on your own anymore because you’ve lost all of your own strength. And everybody fails at some point.”

His eyes darkened. “Yes. And some damage is irreparable.”

“Yes,” she said softly, thinking of the void left by Kimberly, by her father and then, even though she’d still been there physically, by her mother. “That’s why I don’t need people.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. I earn my own living. I’ve achieved my goals on my own, without help from anyone. I don’t do need.”

“Neither do I,” he said, his voice growing thicker, deeper. “And yet, something about you …” He took her hand and placed it on his bare chest, the heat of his skin singeing her fingers, his heartbeat raging against her palm. “Something about this feels a lot like need.”

She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t deny it. Her own body was on fire with response to his. Her heart pounding in time with his, her nipples beading, aching, slick moisture dampening her core.

“That’s why we can’t,” she said bleakly, trying to pull her hand away, but he gripped it with his, held it tightly against the hard wall of his chest.

“And you think if we deny it, that it will go away? Has it faded at all in the past three weeks for you? Because I have been spending all of my nights dreaming of you. Of making love to you, touching your soft skin, thrusting into your beautiful body.”

Heat coursed through her and she knew her cheeks were bright red, but not from embarrassment. Well, not only from embarrassment, although his frank description of what he wanted to do with her was a little bit beyond her experience level. But the heat was from desire, the fierce pulse of it that pounded through her and made her limbs feel weak, made her feel as if she could be reckless. Like she could grab what she wanted with both hands and forget that such a thing as consequences even existed.

He leaned in, his mouth covering hers, his tongue parting her lips expertly. She didn’t hesitate. She opened to him, let her tongue tangle with his, wrapped her arms around his neck so that he could kiss her harder, deeper.

His hands deftly worked at the knots on her bikini top and before she realized what was happening the fabric had slipped away, leaving her breasts bare to him. She arched against his chest, the slight dusting of hair that covered his skin lightly abrading her nipples. The coarse friction sent a wave of sensation washing through her body, making her internal muscles clench in anticipation of his touch. His possession. She squirmed, trying to find some way to alleviate the hollow ache that was slowly taking over her body. She knew it wasn’t going to work, that whatever she did, even if it brought her to orgasm, wasn’t going to satisfy her. Because she wasn’t going to be satisfied until their bodies were joined together, until he was filling that void.

He lowered his dark head and she watched, completely spellbound as he sucked one pink nipple into his mouth, his tongue working the sensitized tip. She let her head fall back, let a loud moan escape her lips. She was past the point of caring about what noises she made, past the point of caring about anything except for this. Maximo. His touch. His wicked mouth doing such wonderful, shocking things to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly before lowering his head and drawing her other nipple into his mouth. He released her, laving her with the flat of his tongue before scattering kisses over her breasts, her collarbone, down to her belly button and back up again.

She was on fire, dying for him, all remnants of control long since thrown out the window. She couldn’t think when he was kissing her. Couldn’t plan. Couldn’t do anything except revel in the things he, and only he, could do to her.

Would it have been like this with any man? If she had given someone the chance sooner would they have lit her body on fire, too?

No. She knew that instinctively. She didn’t need a vast amount of experience to know that this wasn’t everyday garden-variety attraction. This was something much hotter, something much more lethal. And she was willingly partaking in it, even knowing how potentially deadly it was.

She felt the hard evidence of his arousal against her thigh and she moved her hand down, pressed her palm against his firm length and squeezed him gently.

A short curse fell from his lips and he captured her mouth again, bucking his hips against her hand, his control obviously as shredded as her own. She squeezed him again and she reveled in the low growl that rumbled in his chest. Always before when she’d imagined being intimate with a man, she’d imagined it meant giving him power over her. But what she hadn’t realized was just how much power she would have over him.

She moved her hand over the length of him, not quite able to believe just how thick and hard he felt. She hadn’t realized that men could be so big. And yet, there was no fear with that revelation, only a sensual thrill that rushed through her, making her feel light-headed, breathless.

Dimly Alison registered the chirpy tones of a cell phone. Despite the interruption, her hands continued to roam over him, to explore him, the everyday sound not quite able to penetrate the fog of desire that was totally clouding her ability for rational thought.

“Che cavolo.” Max swore and jumped away from her as though her touch burned him. He moved to the table where he’d placed his mobile phone and answered it in rough Italian, his chest rising and falling harshly with his breathing, the aggressive jut of his arousal pushing visibly against the thin fabric of his shorts.

Alison’s heart was pounding hard in her ears. Very slowly she started to come back to reality. She could feel the heat of the sun, the salt breeze … hear seagulls screaming at each other down on the beach. She had just about made love with a man outside. Correction: she had been in the process of making love with him even if they hadn’t been quite to the point of actual intercourse. And any of the household staff members could have come out and seen them, caught them in the act.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, acutely aware of her nudity. Before it had seemed freeing, so nice not to have anything between her and Max. Now it just seemed embarrassing. She didn’t feel sexy anymore. She just felt bare, exposed.

She fished her swimsuit top from beneath the chair and turned her back to Maximo, who was still engaged in his phone conversation, tying her top back on with shaking hands, her clumsy fingers taking twice as long to get herself covered again. She picked up the towel and knotted it fiercely at her breasts, craving all the cover she could get. She took advantage of Maximo’s distraction and sneaked quietly back into the villa. She was not hanging around for another postmortem on an aborted make-out session.

More importantly, she wasn’t going to risk being there if he wanted to pick up where they left off because, despite the healthy dose of humiliation she was suffering from, she wasn’t certain she would be able to resist him.