Chapter Eight #2
But Massimo knew exactly what to do. He knew what she needed because he felt that same need pulsing through his own body.
He was no longer going to lie to himself, not after seeing her response to his touch; not after tasting those tight buds of her nipples in his mouth; not after the way she drove him wild with her cries.
He needed this like he needed his next breath.
All the havoc that this feeling could wreak on his life he would contemplate later, but now was the time to answer this siren’s call. To surrender to it. Both of them.
He stroked himself along her soft core one more time, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming urge to let go, instead focusing on the hitch of her breath, the moans and sighs that sent rushes of pleasure through him.
Then he positioned himself at her entrance and nudged in, straining at the tight fit, slowly easing himself into the hot, welcoming place he craved.
His desire spiked higher with each of her breaths.
She was so soft and wet from her pleasure that when he came to the point of resistance, he almost forgot to stop. He almost lost control.
But suddenly, her muscles tensed, jolting him back from the edge of ecstasy. He felt a resistance, and wariness now clouded her eyes.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, stroking his hand over the silky skin of her cheek. “I promise.”
He had meant to comfort her, but her eyes inexplicably filled with tears. He froze, then pulled back, searching her gaze for what had gone wrong. But she shook her head and pulled him closer.
“Please,” she said in a voice that was husky with need. “I want this.”
I want you. Satisfaction soared through him.
It should have been satisfaction that his seduction plan had worked, but the pleasure that ran through him was complicated in a way that he couldn’t begin to contemplate.
So he didn’t. He lowered himself to kiss her, pressing his mouth to hers, and that magical thing that seemed to happen each time her lips touched his happened again.
He lost himself in the kiss as he slowly, slowly, continued to push.
He felt the moment where the resistance gave, felt her flinch.
He soothed her with more kisses until she moved, urging him deeper and deeper until finally, finally, he was inside her completely.
“Catarina.” Her name slipped out of his mouth, his voice a rasp of insatiable hunger that lurked inside him.
As sensations threatened to overwhelm him, a sudden thought darkened the bliss of that moment: This was something he would never come back from.
The idea swirled inside him, an uncomfortable mix of fear and satisfaction that he tried to push away.
Then she moved again, and he moved, too, focusing on reining in his control, pleasuring her, holding himself on the edge of abyss.
Each stroke, each cry, took him further into pleasure, building it until the whole world fell away, and it was only this connection between them.
With another hard thrust she fell apart in his arms, shuddering with cries that broke him.
He came with a long, guttural groan that reverberated through his entire body.
Ecstasy flooded him in wave after wave as her body responded, drawing out both their pleasure.
He held himself over her, his lips pressed to her neck, breathing in her scent, until the world took shape again.
He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, and she held on to him with an intensity that was almost too much to bear.
The small gasps of her breaths echoed through the quiet room, in this house so far away from the ceaseless demands of his life.
But for once, he just let the weight of history and the future be.
He stayed inside her as the sharp ecstasy of pleasure turned into something warmer, something fuller.
She was his now in a way that reached beyond business deals and marriage contracts.
The thought gave him a surge of visceral satisfaction.
Because he was closing in on his goal, he told himself.
Though he would rarely indulge himself like this in the future, he would do so enough to ensure that she was his forever.
Catarina stirred. She opened her eyes and looked at him, the wonder in them still laced with pleasure. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen. An echo of the word mine reverberated through him.
She smiled at him, and the smile was not a mask for polite company.
This one was full of intimate pleasure. Before he could stop the thought, a future played out in front of him, a possibility of having something far more than he had ever imagined.
It was a future where she smiled at him like this across the breakfast table, even when there was no paparazzi there to watch.
It was a dangerous thought, so he pushed it away.
“I hope you are feeling all right,” he said gruffly.
“Much better than all right.” Her voice sang with humor and a touch of wonder that swelled inside him.
He should move. He should take care of her somehow.
He was not in the habit of deflowering virgins and, frankly, knew little about what she might want next.
Gently, reluctantly, he slid out from her, and it was then that he felt something was wrong.
He froze as an icy chill ran through his veins.
The condom had broken. He had spilled his seed inside her.
He stared down at the condom, then looked up at Catarina. The smile on her face faded into confusion, her eyes searching his. Then she looked down, too.
“Oh.” It was just one word, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. But he could feel the shift in her, and this shift sent another cold shock wave through his veins.
“We must get married immediately,” he bit out instinctively.
Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew they weren’t the right ones, and yet he couldn’t stop them because all he could think was scandal.
Her father had alluded to this kind of scandal on the first day when discussing a well-timed wedding, but that concern paled in comparison to the threat that filled him.
The Carandini family could not have a child born out of wedlock.
It was one thing for him to weather a scandal alone but quite another for him to subject the next generation to one before the child was even born. He would never allow that. Never.
But children were supposed to be an issue they’d sort out far in the future, long after this electric connection had died out. Not now, when everything inside him felt so…volatile.
By the time Catarina’s gaze met his again, there was an unreadable mask across her face, and a cold politeness rang in her lovely voice. It did something strange to him when she spoke. “We absolutely do not have to marry.”
“I will not allow my child to grow up under scandalous conditions,” he snapped, louder than he meant to.
“We don’t even know if I’m pregnant.” There was an incredulity in her voice that almost covered the shakiness. Almost.
A feeling was rising in him, a souring brew of all the emotions that the past hour had stirred in him.
This recent turn of events bound them together in the most disturbing way.
Massimo rolled off the bed and reached for the clothes he had tossed aside.
His thoughts were too…tumultuous to continue this conversation, too chaotic to even hear one more word of protest out of her mouth, so he headed for the door.
When he reached it, he turned around. Catarina hadn’t moved.
She was on her side, her hair cascading over her shoulder, half covering the breasts he still longed to take in his mouth.
Still, despite everything. She wasn’t looking at him.
She was staring out the window with an expression that looked too much like resolve for him to contemplate further.
“We will get married,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor that resonated deep inside. “I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.”