Page 26 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
No. He didn’t. He usually avoided bringing his lovers into his personal space. But nothing was usual about this situation. He found he didn’t really care that Carrie was in his bedroom. She already inhabited his personal space, so maybe that was what made it different? He certainly wasn’t prepared to analyse it right now. He just wanted her.
‘We can go to your bedroom if that’s what you’d prefer?’
She shook her head and her hair slipped down over her shoulders, resting close to the swells of her breasts. ‘No, it’s fine...it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I even said that.’
Carrie was kicking herself.
Just stop talking!
As if she needed toremindMassimo that this was not his usual modus operandi!
Her hand was still in his. He led her over to the bed. The room was cast in shadows and she was grateful. She felt far too exposed.
He said, ‘Turn around.’
She obeyed, with a little shiver. What was it about him telling her to turn around? The fact that she didn’t know what he was going to do? The fact that she was prepared to trust him to such an extent was seismic, but she did. It was instinctual and bone-deep. Perhaps four years of living alongside this man and observing him had given her more of an insight into him than she’d realised.
His fingers touched the top of her back as he moved her hair to one side, over one shoulder. Deftly he undid the necklace and lifted it from her neck, putting it down on the bedside table. Then his fingers trailed down the centre of her back to where the dress’s zip started.
He started to pull it down and Carrie’s breath grew shorter and sharper. She wasn’t wearing a bra because the dress had enough support. It loosened around her chest and fell away as Massimo pulled the zip all the way down to just above her buttocks. With a little tug he pulled it over her hips, and it fell to the ground around her feet in a pool of satin. Now she was naked except for her very flimsy underwear.
‘Carrie...’
She slowly turned around, her arms over her breasts in a self-conscious gesture. Massimo gently pulled them down and she heard his harsh intake of breath. She was too afraid to look at him. Not sure what she might see.
He reached out and traced the curve of one breast. Her nipples puckered into hard nubs. She had to bite her lip.
He said, ‘You are...more than anything I could have imagined...’
Carrie couldn’t quite fathom that he’d actually said that to her. But before she could let herself be overwhelmed by everything that was happening she reached for his shirt and pulled it all the way off and down.
He was now bare-chested, and he was beautiful. Powerful. Awesome. She reached out and put her hands on him again, spreading her fingers wide as if she could try and encompass every gleaming inch of flesh. He felt like steel underneath her palms.
She moved her hands down, emboldened by the way he was just letting her explore him. Trailed her fingers over the ridges of his abdominals. And then down to his lean waist. Not an ounce of excess flesh.
But then her attention snagged on his trousers. Belt buckle. She looked up and almost lost her nerve. She’d never seen such a stark expression on his face. All expression had leached away to be replaced with what she could only recognise as what she was feeling herself.
Need.
She couldn’t move. She was transfixed. She heard rather than saw Massimo undo his belt, and then the sound of a button popping, the zip being lowered. Trousers dropping to the floor.
Mouth dry, Carrie looked down—and her mind blanked at the sight of Massimo’s aroused body. He wrapped a hand around himself, as if he had to try and contain it.
‘Get on the bed, Carrie.’
She half fell, half climbed onto the bed. Landing on her back, she looked up at Massimo, who seemed to have assumed the proportions of a mythic god. It was as if the world outside had fallen away completely and now they were in some parallel world, where nothing mattered except this man, this room and this moment.
Massimo came and rested over Carrie on both arms, muscles bunching. He bent his head and kissed her. This time it was slow and thorough. An exploration. When his tongue thrust deep it was a promise of what was to come. Between her legs she grew hot and damp...her body readying for its mate.
Massimo pulled back, as if she’d spoken that incendiary thought out loud. She looked up at him. But all he said was, ‘Touch me, Carrie.’
She put her hands on him, running her palms down over his narrow hips and around to his buttocks, full and firm. One of his knees was between her legs, and with his hands he gently parted her thighs so they fell apart, opening her up to him.
Her avid gaze went to his erection. She’d never thought of that part of a man’s body as particularly beautiful before. But Massimo’s was. Long and thick and hard. Veins along the shaft. A thicket of dark hair at the base. Unashamedly masculine. Vital.
Unable to stop herself, she reached out and encircled him, shocked at how vulnerable he felt in her hand, yet strong. Silk over steel. He pulsed against her. A bead of moisture appeared at the tip.
She heard a small groan and wondered if it had been her or him. But then she did groan, as she felt his hand cup her between her legs. The flimsy lace was no barrier to the heat of his hand. His fingers tugged it to one side and he explored her, seeking and finding the heart of her that hadn’t been touched in so long. That hadn’t ever ached to be touched like this.
