forcing her eyes open to look at him. His gaze met hers and for the briefest of seconds she thought she saw hesitation, then it was gone as he moved lower, kissing his way down her stomach.
Again he paused and looked at her. This time she held her breath, then he lowered his head and kissed her stomach and his child within. Was he finally warming to the idea of fatherhood—his child?
He spoke again in Spanish. Soft gentle words.
‘Max?’ She couldn’t keep the question from her voice, had to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling.
‘My baby is here,’ he said and once again kissed her, sending a flutter of butterflies all over her. ‘And I will be there for my baby—always.’
Elation tore through her, mixing with the desire and passion of being partially clothed as the man she loved kissed her. ‘No more words,’ she said softly. ‘Just make love to me.’
His eyes became as black as the midnight sky as he looked at her, then with a frenzied passion he levered himself from her, discarding the remainder of his clothes before pulling her lace panties down her legs, casting them carelessly aside.
A fevered passion took over her, so great she could barely think. All she wanted was to feel him deep inside her, to be claimed by him, loved by his body. In one swift movement, with a determined edge to his expression, he moved over her, pushing her thighs apart with his legs.
She didn’t need any more encouragement and wrapped her legs round him, drawing him into her, needing the heights of desire only he could give her. He resisted, and she wondered if he was wishing he hadn’t done this, hadn’t got involved all over again, but as that thought slipped through her mind he claimed her once more.
She clung to him, her fingernails pressing into his back as the tide of desire increased. She moved with him, taking him deeper, wanting more, and when he spoke it was words of Spanish. Not soft gentle ones like earlier, but a harsh, gravelly sound full of passion.
‘Max, I—’ She started to tell him her innermost feelings, to tell him with words as well as show him with her body just how much she loved him, but before she could finish he claimed her lips in a demanding and hard kiss, which silenced those all-important words.
The wave of desire crashed over her and she clung to him, shaking with pleasure as he too found his release. Slowly her breathing returned to normal and her body cooled as Max rolled away from her.
‘Max.’ She said his name softly and he turned to look at her.
‘Don’t.’ That one word was a feral growl and she looked deep into his eyes, wondering if he was teasing her. The glittering hardness within the depths of his eyes scored her heart, singed her love and sent a shiver down her spine.
‘But...’ she began again.
He turned and lay on his back, his hands behind his head, his biceps tense and solid as he looked up at the ceiling. ‘Don’t say anything, Lisa. It’s better that way.’
Better for whom? she wondered and hid her confusion by moving close to him, laying her arm across his chest and pressing her body against his. She trailed her fingertip lightly over the defined muscles of his abdomen, desperately fighting to control her emotions, to become as detached as he was.
‘You’re right,’ she whispered as she kissed his chest. He lifted her face up, forcing her to look at him. She smiled as power slipped into her domain. ‘It’s better this way.’
LISA OPENED HER eyes and looked around the dimly lit room, acutely aware of Max’s body wrapped around hers as she lay with her back to him. She knew without a doubt that she still loved him. There had been a moment last night when she had briefly thought he was fighting it too, trying not to admit he felt the same way, but those hard words after the first time they’d made love had chilled that notion. Yet still she hadn’t been able to resist him. How could she when he was the father of her child and the man she would always love, no matter what?
She stirred against the warmth of his body and hers leapt to life once more. The hungry longing within her for him was far from sated. Last night’s lovemaking had only intensified it. As the lateness of Christmas Eve had slipped into the early hours of Christmas Day they had alternated between making love and sleeping. Now the grey light of a winter’s morning seeped around the edges of the thick curtains Max had drawn across the small window of the cottage late last night.
It was Christmas morning and she’d never expected to be waking up in Max’s arms or in such a wonderfully festive cottage. Suddenly her excitement couldn’t be contained any longer. Fate had brought them together and he’d given her the kind of Christmas she’d always longed for and she wasn’t going to ruin it now by dwelling on what was or wasn’t between them, trying to give it a name. She turned and faced Max in the bed, the covers sliding from her as she did so.
‘Happy Christmas.’ His eyes opened as she whispered the words.
‘Now I know what would have been missing from my Christmas morning.’ His dark eyes held the promise of more passion as he pulled her closer to his naked body. ‘You.’
‘But you don’t like Christmas,’ she whispered as memories ofhow this time last year, he had suggested they delay their honeymoon several weeks to avoid the festivities, convincing her that he wanted only to be with her. Instantly she regretted saying anything as the shutters of steel came down over his eyes, suffocating the passion she’d seen brewing there again.
‘I was simply referring to the fact that Christmas morning isn’t the same in Spain. We traditionally give gifts, but on Fiesta de Los Tres Reyes early in January. Twelfth Night here.’ She knew he was hiding something, holding back on her as he’d always done. Everything he’d just said was a cover for what he was really feeling—or not.
‘So why have you done all this?’ She looked around the room, at the subtle decorations that left her in no doubt she was in a cottage decked out for Christmas. She’d thought he’d done it to bring them together—and it had achieved that in the most spectacularly passionate way—but not in the way she really wanted. Perhaps she should do as she’d thought last night and accept that the man whose child she carried wasn’t capable of emotions and that nothing would change that, just as he’d told her when he first walked out on their new marriage.
He hadn’t wanted her to say what she felt, hadn’t wanted to hear those words spoken aloud.
‘Because it would make you happy, because even though I can’t say what you want me to say, I care about you.’
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now, but she certainly wasn’t going to spoil Christmas Day. Not when the things he’d done, the way he’d been last night, gave her hope.
* * *
Max could almost hear a pin drop in the room as Lisa listened then thankfully accepted what he’d said. He got up, enjoying the way her gaze lingered on his body, which still wanted her despite their night of passion.
He pulled on some jeans and a sweater. ‘The surprises aren’t over yet.’
‘They aren’t?’
‘No,
