Page 68 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
She was his. Absolutely incontrovertibly his. Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Carys, kissing her. He pulled her close, enfolded her in an embrace that nothing could break.
He needed her. Wouldn’t be whole without her.
The feel of her there, her heart hammering in time with his, her soft lips yielding, even giving back kiss for furious kiss, only strengthened his certainty.
‘Or this?’ He drew back enough to lick a line from her collarbone to her ear, feeling her judder in response, her breath catch in a gasp of pure pleasure.
‘There’s nothing convenient about what I feel for you, Carys.’ He drew back just enough to hold her dazed eyes with his. ‘I refuse to give up the woman I love. Do you hear me? There will be no talk of divorce. I won’t accept it. I won’t give you up.’
This time when he kissed her, he lifted her right off the ground, securing her with one arm around her bottom, the other around her torso, pulling her to him as if he could meld her wet form into his own.
They were one, damn it. They belonged together.
‘Sandro?’
‘No.’ The coward in him didn’t want to hear her pleas to be released from their marriage. Instead he kissed her again, turning and walking the few paces till he felt the wall against his arm. He held her there, secure in his arms, her back to the wall, unable to escape, as he concentrated on ravaging her senses with all the passion welling inside him.
He could swear she responded as ardently as ever. More so. Perhaps, after all, she could be persuaded.
‘Sandro.’ Only lack of oxygen, the need to breathe again, allowed her to speak.
Her fingers against his lips stopped him when he would have kissed her again to stop the flow of words he didn’t want to hear.
‘Please, Sandro.’ Such emotion in her husky voice. His heart squeezed in sheer terror as he knew he couldn’t put off the moment any longer. He drew back enough to look down into her face. But he didn’t relinquish his hold. He held her clamped hard against him.
‘You love me?’ There was wonder in her eyes, and doubt.
He was a proud man. From childhood he’d learned not to share himself, not to trust his heart to anyone else. But what he felt was too big to be hidden.
‘Can you doubt it, Carys?’ He lifted his hand to stroke her brow, her cheek, her swollen lips. ‘I think I loved you even before I saw your picture in that brochure. Definitely from the moment I held you in my arms in my hotel suite, and almost died from the sheer ecstasy of you there, with me.’ He swallowed a rising lump in his throat.
‘And when I saw you holding our son…’ This time his kiss was tender, soft and fleeting. Reluctantly he pulled back, watching her eyes widen.
‘I didn’t know what love was till I met you, tesoro mio. But now I do. It’s the glorious warmth I feel just thinking about you. Just remembering your smile when you’re not there. It’s the desire to keep you safe, to protect you and care for you every day of the rest of our lives. To share my life with you. It would kill me if you left.’
His heartbeat slowed to a sombre, waiting pulse. ‘I was only half alive before I found you again. Please…’ He didn’t care that he laid his innermost self open and vulnerable before her. All that mattered was having Carys in his life.
‘Oh, Sandro!’ Her kiss was fervent but almost clumsy as she pressed her lips feverishly to his. He felt hot tears slide down his cheek and realised she was crying in earnest.
Guilt scorched him. Did he really want to trap her with sympathy?
‘Sandro.’ She pressed kisses to his chin, his lips, his face. ‘I love you so much. I’ve always loved you. I thought you’d never feel the same.’
He shuddered with the shock of it. But lifting his head, he saw the truth in her eyes. She glowed incandescently as if lit from within. Even then he couldn’t believe.
‘But you wanted to leave me. You said so.’
Her smile, through drenched eyes and a tear-stained face, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
‘No. I couldn’t do that. Ever.’ The words sank into his soul and settled there. A tentative sense of peace washed through him. He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she stopped him.
‘I’m here for good, Sandro. I just meant I couldn’t put up with accepting less than a real marriage with real responsibilities. I couldn’t bear thinking you were ashamed of me, that I wasn’t good enough to be your contessa.’
‘Never say that, piccolina.’ He hitched her higher so they were at eye level. ‘You are the perfect wife for me. In every way.’ He let the words echo around the tiled walls, satisfaction filling him.
