him that, when he was already repulsed by what he knew, even though he’d done his best to hide it. And it was funny how the distance between a couple could grow almost without you realising. They’d been wary in each other’s company. As the space between them had increased, she’d found the presence of her Italian husband almost...forbidding.
But if she had read it all wrong, then where did that leave her? If he hadn’t been making value judgments about her, then why was she being so passive—always waiting for Renzo to make the first move? Yes, he was an alpha man with an instinctive need to dominate but it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he was simply being cautious around the baby she carried in her belly. He’d never had a pregnant lover before. He had taught her so much—wasn’t this her chance to teach him something?
She walked over to him and, without warning, raised herself up on tiptoe to press her lips against his—feeling him jerk with surprise before sliding his arms around her waist to support her. Their tongues met as he instantly deepened the kiss but although Darcy could feel herself begin to melt, she forced herself to pull away.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not here. Not like this. Let’s go upstairs. I need to lie down.’
‘To bed?’
She took his hand and began to walk towards the stairs. ‘Why not? It just happens to be about the only piece of furniture we have.’
An old-fashioned boat bed had been delivered to the master bedroom, her only instruction to the removal men being that the thick plastic covering the mattress should be taken away and disposed of. The wooden-framed structure dominated an otherwise empty room and on its king-size surface lay the embroidered coverlet she’d found when she and Renzo had been rooting around in one of Rome’s antiques markets. She hadn’t asked for it to be placed there but now it seemed like a sign that this had been meant to happen.
‘Get undressed,’ she whispered as she pulled off her overcoat and dropped it to the ground.
His eyes were fixed on hers as he removed his jacket, his sweater and trousers. Soon their discarded clothes were mingled in a heap beside the bed and at last Darcy stood in front of him. She was naked and heavily pregnant and feeling more than a little awkward, yet the look of desire in his eyes was melting away any last trace of shyness.
‘I feel...bulky,’ she said.
‘Not bulky,’ he corrected, his voice husky. ‘Beautiful. Luscious and rounded—like the ripest of fruits about to fall from the tree.’
She shivered as he spoke and he took her into his arms.
‘You’re cold,’ he observed.
She shook her head, still reeling from his words and the way he’d looked at her as he said them. ‘No, not cold. Excited.’
‘Me, too.’ He gave a low laugh as he unfolded the coverlet and shook it out over the mattress.
‘It almost looks as if we’re planning on a picnic,’ she said, her voice suddenly betraying a hint of uncertainty.
‘That’s exactly what I’m planning. I’m going to feast on you, mia bella.’ But his face suddenly darkened as he pulled her into his arms and their bare flesh met for the first time in so long. ‘I’m out of my depth here, Darcy,’ he groaned. ‘I’ve never made love to a pregnant woman before and I’m scared I’m going to hurt you. Tell me what you want me to do.’
‘Just kiss me,’ she whispered as they sank down onto the mattress. ‘And we’ll make it up as we go along.’
He kissed her for a long time. Tiny, brushing kisses at first and then deeper ones. And for a while, there were hard kisses which felt almost angry—as if he was punishing her for having kept him away for so long. But his anger soon passed and the kisses became exploratory as he licked his way inside her mouth and they began to play a silent and erotic game of tongues.
And then he started to touch her as Darcy had ached for him to touch her night after lonely night, waiting in vain for him to come to bed. At first he simply skated the palms of his hands down over her, as if discovering all the different contours and curves which had grown since last time they’d been intimate. No area of skin escaped the light whisper of his fingertips and she could feel every nerve ending growing acutely sensitised. Slowly, he circled each breast with his thumb, focussing his attention on each peaking nipple and putting his mouth there to lick luxuriously until she was squirming with frustrated longing. She wanted him to hurry yet she wanted him to take all day. But the rhythmical movements of his hand relaxed her completely, so that she was more than ready for his leisurely exploration of her belly when it came.
Their gazes met as his fingers splayed over the tight drum, his black eyes filled with question. ‘This is okay?’ he breathed.
‘This is more than okay,’ she managed, her voice growing unsteady as he slipped his hand down beyond to the silky triangle of hair, fingering her honeyed flesh so that she gasped with pleasure and the scent of her sex filled the air.
She reached for him, her pleasure already so intense that she could barely think straight as she tangled her fingers through his thick black hair, before hungrily reacquainting herself with the hard planes of his body. His shoulders were so broad and powerful; his pecs iron-hard. She loved the smattering of hair which roughened the rocky torso. Her fingertips skated lightly over his chest, feeling the rock-like definition of his abs. She thought his skin felt like oiled silk and she traced a lingering path over the dip of his belly before her fingers curled around the hardness of his erection, but he shook a cautionary head and pulled her hand away.
‘It’s been too long,’ he said unevenly.
‘You’re telling me!’
‘And I need to do it to you right now before I go out of my mind—the only question is, how?’
In answer, Darcy turned onto her side, wiggling her bottom against his groin in blatant invitation. ‘Like this, I think.’
‘But I can’t see you.’
‘Doesn’t matter. And it never used to bother you. Go on.’ She wiggled again and he groaned and she could feel how big he was as his moist tip positioned enticingly against her wet heat. ‘You can feel me now and look at me later.’
He gave a low laugh and said something softly profound in Italian as he eased inside her. But the moan he gave was long and Darcy thought she’d never heard such an exultant sound before.
‘Okay?’ he bit out, holding himself perfectly still.
‘More than okay,’ she gasped.
‘I’m not hurting you?’
‘No, Renzo, but you’re frustrating the hell out of me.’
His laugh sounded edgy but he began to move. In slow motion, he stroked himself in and out of her, his palms cupping her heavy breasts, his lips on her neck—kissing her through the thick curtain of curls. Darcy closed her eyes as she gave into sensation, forgetting that this was the only time they ever seemed truly equal. Forgetting everything except for the pulse points of pleasure throbbing throughout her body and the inexorable building of her orgasm as Renzo made love to her. Insistent heat pushed towards her. She could feel it coming—as inevitable as a train hurtling along the track—and part of her wanted to keep it at bay, to revel in that sweet expectation for
