Читать книгу New Year Escapes - Leslie Kelly - Страница 20

ALISON was more than thankful for having an opportunity to get out of the palace later that day. The meeting with the men and women she was working with to organize the Turani branch of the CF Foundation had gone well. And it had provided some much-needed distraction from the anxiety of waiting for the test results, from the stifling solitude that came from being in a huge building surrounded by people who basically never talked to her. But most of all, she needed a distraction from her earlier revelation.

She didn’t want to love Maximo. She was saving her love for her child. She didn’t want to have her emotions tangled up in loving him, not when he was only going to hurt her. She didn’t want to be like her parents. Didn’t want to become a bitter, angry person simply because her strongest emotions had been tied up in someone who neither wanted, nor deserved them.

She hiked her purse up higher on her shoulder, clinging to the leather strap as if it might offer her some kind of support. How had she let Maximo come to mean so much to her? He was infuriating. He always thought he was right and he was ridiculously self-confident. And he was handsome. Smart. Funny. A great conversationalist. And great in bed.

She sighed audibly. She couldn’t even list his sins without turning sappy. And lustful. Even now, when she was furious at him, she wanted him. The mental countdown to when she would be able to see him tonight had already begun, and she was more than a little ashamed to admit that.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Alison turned her head sharply to follow the sound of the person who’d spoken to her and a flash went off in her face. Putting her head down she walked faster, her face set into the most hostile expression she could manage. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by an idiot reporter, and she certainly wasn’t going to stop and answer questions.

“Miss Whitman, is it true you recently underwent a paternity test?” A second voice, a woman’s, joined the first.

Alison’s heart jolted. They knew about the baby. About the test. She doubted it was the doctor who’d told. The position of private physician to royalty probably paid way too much to betray confidences. A lab tech, though, might be tempted. However it happened, the news was out and she’d have to deal with it as best she could.

The jostle of equipment behind her grew louder and more questions, by more people, starting swirling around her.

“Is it the prince’s baby?”

“Who’s the father?”

“How many men are being tested?”

She bit her lip to contain an onslaught of angry words. She wasn’t going to turn around and freak out at all of the people holding cameras. That photo was not going on the front page of a tabloid.

The knot of people caught up to her and suddenly she was in the middle of them, cameras and tape recorders being shoved at her from every direction. One of the men got pushed into her and she wobbled, losing her balance and falling onto the sidewalk.

That didn’t seem to bother any of the rabid paparazzi. They continued to snap pictures and shout anything to get a response from her, questions, accusations.

“Alison?”

She recognized Maximo’s voice over the din that surrounded her. One of the reporters who’d been leaning over her jerked back sharply, a look of shock on his face. Then she saw Max. He reached down and took her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. The reporters weren’t at all deterred by his presence and they continued to crowd in.

One of the men physically grabbed Alison’s arm in an attempt to slow her down. A feral growl escaped Maximo’s lips and he released his hold on Alison, grabbing the man’s camera and smashing it against the side of one of the brick buildings that lined the sidewalk.

“Do not lay a hand on my woman,” Max gritted, his voice fierce, his normally subtle accent thick.

The photographer paled and fell back, as did the rest of them, obviously sensing impending violence if they continued their assault.

“Get in the car.” Max didn’t have any tenderness for her, either. He jerked open the passenger door of the black sports car that was parked against the curb.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of being in an enclosed space with him in his current mood, but she’d rather take her chances with him than have him leave her with the pseudopress. She got in and buckled up quickly.

Maximo didn’t speak the entire drive back to the palace. He sat straight, gripping the steering wheel, his jaw locked tight, tension radiating off him. And she wasn’t going to be the one to break that silence, not when she knew any words coming from him were going to be extremely unpleasant.

As soon as they were closed into his bedroom he unleashed his rage. “What were you thinking? You didn’t tell me where you were going, you didn’t take a bodyguard. I had to find out by calling your driver and he informed me you were at a meeting. Alone. That was incredibly irresponsible of you.”

“Irresponsible?” she shot back. “I was trying to keep busy, trying to do something worthwhile. I am not going to sit around the castle by myself until you need me to be your royal accessory!”

“I never said that I expected you to that, but I do expect you to possess some modicum of sense.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, bringing her tight against his chest. “Do you have any idea what might have happened to you?”

Maximo took a sharp breath. Anger and panic roared through him, mingling with the fierce pumping of adrenaline in his veins. She affected him far too much. He had been there. He’d tried love and marriage. It had been hell. Losing Selena by increments, and finally to death, had been an exercise in torture. He had no desire to go back to that, to ever feel that way again.

When he’d seen Alison on the ground with that pack of wolves surrounding her … it had taken all of his self-control to stop himself from beating the man who’d touched her until he was unconscious. In that moment, seeing the paparazzi around her … it had been a return to the darkest moments of his life. He’d been able to imagine far too clearly what it would be like to lose her, to lose the baby. It had felt as though his world was caving in. She was starting to matter far too much, this whole tentative future with a wife and child was starting to mean too much. He had let it all go before, had had no choice but to give up on that desire. And now it had become the center of everything again. He had not intended for that to be the case.

It had seemed a simple task to keep her at arm’s length. And she’d seemed more than happy to hold herself separate from him. He’d thought he could exorcize the intense passion he felt for her by making love with her, and yet every night his need for her only seemed stronger.

He’d loved Selena, but he had been in control of that love. She’d needed him, had looked to him for her everything, for comfort, for strength. That had been a role he was comfortable with then. He’d liked that she’d depended on him.

But Alison had burrowed beneath his skin. She had made herself important to him, essential in so many ways.

“Nothing was going to happen to me!” she protested.

“They knocked you over and still their only thought was getting the dirt on you, on us, digging up whatever scandal they possibly could. The night Selena was killed, they’d been following her. After the accident they took pictures,” he spat. “They wanted to know if she was drunk, or on drugs. They wanted scandal.”

Alison’s face paled. “I never knew. It was never in the paper … it didn’t …”

“I paid them off,” he said, his voice low. “There was no scandal anyway, but I feared they might publish the pictures. I bought them and had them destroyed.”

Her eyes filled with tears, for him, for Selena. It rocked him, made his heart seize and his chest ache. She cupped his face and kissed him tenderly, her lips soft against his.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He wanted to pull away, to leave so that he could gather his thoughts, regain control. But he couldn’t leave, not with her standing there, looking devastated and vulnerable and so beautiful she made his hands shake with desire for her. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up, kissing the streaks her tears had tracked on her lovely face.

His heart thundering in his chest, he began to release the buttons on her silk blouse, baring her demure lace bra. He swallowed, nearly undone by the fierce desire rocketing through him. But it was more than that, more than just physical need. He had never felt anything like this before, not with Selena, not with any woman. He felt incomplete unless he was touching her, kissing her, stroking her gorgeous body.

His mind rejected that thought even as his heart, his body, ached to be joined with her. He could not allow her to matter so much. He had loved Selena, but she had not touched him in this way, had not wielded this kind of power over his body and his emotions. And still, when he’d lost her it had felt as though his world had crumbled.

Alison meant far more to him. In that moment when he’d thought she might have been hurt he had been able to imagine losing her. It had been like staring into a dark void that was opening up, preparing to swallow him whole, leaving him with nothing but eternal blackness. He could not allow that. But he couldn’t stop kissing her.

He growled roughly and tightened his hold on her, kissing her hard, bruising her lips with the force of his passion, his rage. It was a kiss designed to punish her for what she made him feel, designed to reassert his dominance. He plundered her mouth, dipping his tongue deep inside before nipping the fullness of her bottom lip.

When he parted from her, her eyes were huge, her breathing ragged. Her nipples were beaded, pressed against the flimsy bra. She wanted him still, even though she’d been angry with him. And God help him, he wanted her.

He denied the refrain that was playing through his mind, denied the insistent tattoo of her name that was beating through him. It wasn’t about her. She wasn’t special. She was just a woman. And he was a man. He wanted what a man desired of a woman and nothing more. It wasn’t Alison; it was just sex. He had been without it for too long; that was why she affected him so strongly.

He backed her across the room and turned her so that she was facing away from him before bending her gently over the surface of the dresser that was positioned up against the wall.

“Max?” she asked tremulously.

“Trust me,” he grated.

He moved his hands up her still-slender waist, around to her stomach and over the little bump that housed their baby. His heart jumped and he curled his hands into fists before opening them again and palming her breasts, releasing the front clasp on her bra and letting it fall open. He covered the creamy mounds, squeezed her sensitized nipples, drawing a low, desperate moan from her lips.

He abandoned her breasts to push her skirt down her hips, taking her tiny pair of panties with it. He pressed his hand against her mound, pushing one finger through her slick folds and finding the bud that housed her most sensitive nerve endings. She shivered, her head falling back to rest against his chest. The sweet scent of her perfume, so uniquely her, assaulted him. He swept her hair to the side and kissed her neck, her bare shoulder.

Unsteadily he reached for the closure on his slacks and freed himself, bringing his naked flesh against the softness of her bottom. She gasped and arched into him, pressing the heart of her, her glorious wetness, up against his aching body.

Keeping one hand centered on her clitoris, stroking her mercilessly; he splayed his other hand across her stomach and tilted her back gently as he thrust into her tight heat.

He lost all sense of control, all sense of time. He had wanted to take her this way to make it impersonal, so he couldn’t see her face. But he knew … her scent, the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands, the soft sounds of pleasure that she made … the fact that his body had never responded this way to any other woman. It was Alison, and he could not deny it.

He kissed the side of her neck, gentled his touch on her breasts, let his hands slide over her soft curves. His heart squeezed in his chest. This was Alison. His woman. The mother of his child. There was no denying it, and he didn’t want to.

Suddenly he needed to see her, needed to watch her face as he brought her to the peak, needed to cradle her close to his body. He withdrew and swept her into his arms, crossing the room quickly and settling her onto the bed. “Alison,” he whispered, brushing her hair back off her forehead.

She raised her hands and cupped his cheek, the emotion in her eyes nearly undoing him completely. “Max.”

He entered her slowly, his entire body trembling with the effort to maintain control. She locked her arms around him, moved with him, her soft sighs of pleasure gratifying him in a way that went far beyond the physical. And after she had cried out her climax he rushed to follow her, and it was her name that he whispered hoarsely as he came hard, spilling himself inside her, branding her. Branding himself.

Emotion tightened his chest, squeezed down hard on his heart and refused to release him from its iron fist. The look in her eyes, the one of pure wonderment, affected him too much. He rolled away from her suddenly, pulling away from the feelings roiling inside of him.

She turned to her side, facing him, and his breath caught when the full impact of her beauty hit him. Her face was flushed, her mouth swollen. She had never looked more enticing, more lovely. He gritted his teeth against the rising tide of emotion that was threatening to swamp him.

“I have work to do.” He turned away from her and buckled his belt, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding hard. His instinct was to go to her, to hold her. But he wouldn’t allow himself that. Wouldn’t allow himself to show that level of weakness.

He could hear her behind him, collecting her clothing, and when he turned to face her again he could read the hurt and confusion she clearly felt. He didn’t have to say anything for her to know that he was distancing himself from her. That itself was enough for him to want distance. He didn’t want her feelings involved any more than he wanted to involve his own.

“I’ll be working late tonight. You should sleep in your own room,” he said, his voice clipped.

She flinched as though he’d struck her. “Okay.”

Her mobile phone rang and she reached down and fished it out of her purse, which had been thrown to the floor at some point in their frantic hurry to come together.

She checked the caller ID. “It’s the lab.” She answered, but neither her face nor her tone gave away any information. She hung up and focused on him, her lips pressed firmly together. “Congratulations. You’re the father. We’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain now.” She didn’t sound happy, she didn’t look happy.

Alison watched Maximo’s face, hoping for some kind of reaction, something she could hold onto to let her know that she hadn’t lost him, lost everything they’d built together in the past six weeks. When he’d withdrawn from her physically she’d felt his emotional withdrawal just as keenly, could see his dark eyes flatten as he walled his emotions off from her.

“I have to go,” he said, his dark eyes unreadable.

Alison tried to do what he’d done so easily, tried to block out the pain she knew was about to hit. But it was impossible. She loved him too much, and she was losing him already. He might never leave her, but she would never have his heart, either.

She pushed hard against her closed eyes, trying to stop tears from falling. She was going to be strong, for herself, for her baby. She would never let anyone know that her heart was shattered irreparably.

The fragrant air caressed her skin, the intense warmth of the summer day heating her. But only on the outside. Everything inside of her was cold.

She’d arrived on the island of Maris only twenty minutes ago, hoping she might find some solace for her pain. Instead being in the place where she had been so happy, where she had been awakened to love and making love, was a bittersweet pain. She had never felt more separate from him.

He’d been away on business more often than not over the course of the past week, and when he’d been home he’d been unfailingly polite. Distant. It was worse than his anger—at least that was passionate. He was acting like a stranger. He hadn’t made love with her, not since the day she’d been attacked by the paparazzi.

That was when things had changed. When he’d shut her out completely. Her worst fear was that it wasn’t related to the incident with the press, but that it had to do with him finding out for certain he was the father of her baby. Maybe he didn’t want them anymore. And now, his get-out-of-jail-free card had been taken away from him.

She moved away from the balcony and reentered the room. The one she and Max had shared when they’d stayed here. She shivered. It had been a stupid idea to come to the island. But her heart was breaking, splintering with every beat it took, and she had to try to fix it somehow.

Maybe if there would have been a big blow-up fight it would have been easier. If he’d said ugly things and told her he didn’t want her, maybe then her love would have died. But it had just been this sudden, silent break. He had withdrawn from her completely with no explanation, but the separation had been a no less definite or final feeling than if they had experienced some kind of dramatic end to their relationship.

The greatest irony was that their wedding was in two days. In two days they were going to stand before the congregation and make vows to love, honor and cherish each other. It would be difficult since they were barely speaking to each other.

She rested her palm on her burgeoning belly and felt renewed determination. She wasn’t destitute. She had her baby, the most precious thing in the world. She loved Max. She loved him so much it actually hurt, but their baby was a piece of them. They may not have created life in the usual, physical way, but the baby was the best of both of them.

She heard footsteps behind her on the travertine floor and turned, expecting to see Rosa Maria, the housekeeper. Instead she saw Max striding toward her. He was as intimidating as ever, a man who oozed control and sophistication. But there was something different. She noticed the fatigue etched in his handsome face. She could definitely relate.

“What are you doing here, Maximo?”

He laughed, the sound hollow, void of any joy or humor. “The same thing as you, I would imagine. Trying to escape.”

“What is it you need to escape from?”

He laughed again. “The same thing as you I would imagine.”

“Please, Max, I’m not up to playing games with you.”

“So it’s Max again, is it?” His voice softened and he took a step toward her.

“What do you mean?”

He gave her a half smile. “I was demoted to the more formal Maximo.”

“I didn’t even realize.”

“I did,” he said huskily.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t take this. This tease. He didn’t want her. He was stuck with her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, anguish lacing her voice.

“This is where I’ve been for most of the past week,” he confessed.

“I thought you were working.”

“In a way I was.”

Frustration bubbled through her. “I don’t want your passion one moment and your silence the next. I can’t do hot and cold. I don’t know what happened to change things between us. But you won’t tell me. If I’ve done something then say it. If you’ve found someone else, or you’re simply tired of me, say it. Don’t freeze me out. Don’t make me play guessing games.”

“I’m not a man of words, Alison. I’m a man of actions. You may have noticed that,” he said with dark humor. “I don’t always say the right things. But I want the chance to make you understand me. To make you understand how I feel.”

She shook her head, her throat tightening with tears. “Don’t play with me.”

He took her hand, and their first physical contact in a week rocked her to her core. The wanting hadn’t gone away. Not even for a moment. She could see from the molten heat in his eyes that he felt the same.

“I’ve never been playing with you,” he said, his voice intense. “Please know that. I’ve handled things badly, but hurting you was the last thing I wanted.”

“But you did hurt me,” she said. “We promised we were going to talk about things, but we didn’t. You just shut me out, and I have no idea what happened to cause it.”

He raised his eyes and met hers; the stark, raw emotion in them shocked her. “I know,” he said roughly. “You cannot know how sorry I am. Please come with me, Alison.”

She nodded slowly and let him lead her from the villa. When she realized where they were headed she stopped. “Max. I can’t.”

“Trust me. Please.”

She took a breath and allowed him to take her the rest of the way to the art studio, her heart a leaden weight in her chest. This was the place where she had shed her inhibitions, where she had laid herself bare to him. Where she had lost her heart. Coming here was the worst sort of torture mingled with the sweetest of memories. They had been connected then, and even though she hadn’t been able to name the things he’d made her feel, it was where she’d fallen in love with him.

He opened the door and took her into the sun-bathed room. There was no question of what he had wanted her to see. It was there in the middle of the room, lit up by the incandescent natural light. It was her, but it wasn’t her. The woman captured on the canvas was beautiful. Her skin glowed with youth and joy. As though she had just been with her lover and he had left her satisfied. The painting was exquisitely detailed. Her hair was a lush mix of reds and golds, her flesh palest peach, her lips and nipples a dusky rose. Her eyes were closed, her full mouth curved, hinting at secrets. Secrets between her lover and herself, because there could be no doubt that this woman was well-loved.

She looked at the painting piece by piece, something inside of her moved by it. The features were hers, but there was something more, something she didn’t see when she looked in the mirror. Something Maximo saw that she didn’t see in herself. It was more than a portrait, it was a revelation. A declaration. It spoke of feelings deeper than words; it mirrored what she felt in her heart.

“Max?”

“This is what I’ve been doing. I wasn’t working. I couldn’t work. My mind was filled with you, Alison.” He cupped her cheek and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. He tasted of desperation, of need, and her body responded; along with her heart.

“Max …”

“No, I have to say this. I was scared, Alison. Scared of how much you had come to mean to me. That day forced me to face what it might feel like if I were to lose you. I don’t think I could survive it. I realized how much you’d come to mean to me, how much I counted on seeing you every day, kissing you, making love with you. I realized how much I needed you. I did not want you to have so much power over me. I didn’t want to love you.” A sad smile touched his lips. “I tried to shut you out. To prove to you, and to myself, that I didn’t need you. I was very wrong.”

He kissed her fiercely and she parted her lips for him, closing her eyes as she reveled in being held again by the man that she loved.

He tilted his head and rested his forehead against hers. “I have more to say, but I’m afraid I won’t say it right. I need to show you first.” He kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead. “Can I show you?” he asked against her lips.

“Yes,” she half sobbed, half laughed.

He lifted her shirt up over her head, exposing her sensitive breasts to his inspection. He groaned when he saw that she was bare beneath her shirt. “Oh, my darling, what you do to me.” He cupped her aching flesh reverently, his thumbs moving back and forth over her distended nipples. A cry formed on her lips and he kissed it away.

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.”