slipped one hand under her pajama top. His fingers closed around her breast, the silky skin a delicious contrast to her stiff nipple. She moaned again and arched upward for more. Crazed for the taste of her, he ripped open her buttons and lowered his head.
He sucked and bit until one of the tips was ruby red and glistening. She panted, but managed to move her hands to grip into the length of his hair, yanking his head up. Through misty shimmers of want, he stared at her, waiting for her to tell him to stop.
“More,” she demanded. “Give me more.”
He bent his head again and gave the same treatment to her other breast, teasing her on the fine line between pleasure and pain. She twisted and moaned in his arms, her open response like a drug injected in his veins. Her musky scent rose to his nostrils and taunted him, and with one quick movement, his hand dove beneath the waistband of her pants. The damp curls tickled the tips of his fingers. She sucked in a breath and he moved his hand downward, ready to plunge in deep and—
“Michael!” The pounding on the door slammed through his brain. His hand paused in its travels, trying to fight the fog. A giggle. “Are you guys doing anything naughty in there?” Venezia called out. “If so, save it for later. I need you downstairs for a minute.” Another pause. “Michael, Maggie? Are you there?”
He fought for breath. Fought for normalcy. And wondered if he’d ever be normal again.
“I’m here. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“ Grazie .”
Footsteps echoed. The heat turned lukewarm between them and kept dropping. By the time he’d removed his hand and Maggie had rebuttoned her pajama top, he felt as if he were in Antarctica instead of Italy.
Michael realized he’d lost some of the fragile trust between them. If he’d stepped away without being intimate, she might have respected him.
“Next time you want to cop a feel, just be honest. I’m not one of these women who needs to wrap sex up in a warm, fluffy cocoon of emotions.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t!” She ducked her head, but not before he caught the sheer vulnerability in her face. Her hand shook slightly as she pulled back the covers. “Please. Not tonight. Go talk to your sister.”
He stood beside the bed, torn between his need to tell her the truth and his need to save his family. Dear God, what had happened? He had to convince her he wasn’t in love with Alexa; this was getting way too sticky. But what if it was too late and she didn’t believe him? And if she did, would she walk away, pissed off he’d deceived her?
No, his blood must have rushed to his other head. He needed to keep it together, get through six more days, and get back to New York. He’d keep his bargain and stay out of Alexa’s life and never see Maggie again. Everything would go back to normal. In six days.
He remained silent and walked out the door, leaving her in bed, alone, in the darkness.
• • •
“So who are we meeting again?”
Michael led her toward the Piazza Vecchia as the sun sank and bathed the square in golden light. She caught her stiletto heel on the broken pavement and he gripped her around the waist. Firmly ignoring the blast of electricity between them, he lingered over the warmth of her skin under rose silk before releasing her. He figured she’d put up a fuss about the long walk and business dinner, but her enthusiasm to accompany him caught him off guard.
Of course, she’d just gotten back from bridesmaid dress shopping with his sisters, so maybe she was desperate.
“ Signore Ballini. He owns many restaurants and may be open to partnering with La Dolce Famiglia.” He paused and tried to roll his tongue over the word without a stumble. “He has heard about my marriage and insists on meeting my wife.”
She snickered and stopped by a stand to linger over the taleggio, which was a soft, fragrant cheese, and an array of salty cold meats. Her quick conversation with the vendor in
He sucked and bit until one of the tips was ruby red and glistening. She panted, but managed to move her hands to grip into the length of his hair, yanking his head up. Through misty shimmers of want, he stared at her, waiting for her to tell him to stop.
“More,” she demanded. “Give me more.”
He bent his head again and gave the same treatment to her other breast, teasing her on the fine line between pleasure and pain. She twisted and moaned in his arms, her open response like a drug injected in his veins. Her musky scent rose to his nostrils and taunted him, and with one quick movement, his hand dove beneath the waistband of her pants. The damp curls tickled the tips of his fingers. She sucked in a breath and he moved his hand downward, ready to plunge in deep and—
“Michael!” The pounding on the door slammed through his brain. His hand paused in its travels, trying to fight the fog. A giggle. “Are you guys doing anything naughty in there?” Venezia called out. “If so, save it for later. I need you downstairs for a minute.” Another pause. “Michael, Maggie? Are you there?”
He fought for breath. Fought for normalcy. And wondered if he’d ever be normal again.
“I’m here. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“ Grazie .”
Footsteps echoed. The heat turned lukewarm between them and kept dropping. By the time he’d removed his hand and Maggie had rebuttoned her pajama top, he felt as if he were in Antarctica instead of Italy.
Michael realized he’d lost some of the fragile trust between them. If he’d stepped away without being intimate, she might have respected him.
“Next time you want to cop a feel, just be honest. I’m not one of these women who needs to wrap sex up in a warm, fluffy cocoon of emotions.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t!” She ducked her head, but not before he caught the sheer vulnerability in her face. Her hand shook slightly as she pulled back the covers. “Please. Not tonight. Go talk to your sister.”
He stood beside the bed, torn between his need to tell her the truth and his need to save his family. Dear God, what had happened? He had to convince her he wasn’t in love with Alexa; this was getting way too sticky. But what if it was too late and she didn’t believe him? And if she did, would she walk away, pissed off he’d deceived her?
No, his blood must have rushed to his other head. He needed to keep it together, get through six more days, and get back to New York. He’d keep his bargain and stay out of Alexa’s life and never see Maggie again. Everything would go back to normal. In six days.
He remained silent and walked out the door, leaving her in bed, alone, in the darkness.
• • •
“So who are we meeting again?”
Michael led her toward the Piazza Vecchia as the sun sank and bathed the square in golden light. She caught her stiletto heel on the broken pavement and he gripped her around the waist. Firmly ignoring the blast of electricity between them, he lingered over the warmth of her skin under rose silk before releasing her. He figured she’d put up a fuss about the long walk and business dinner, but her enthusiasm to accompany him caught him off guard.
Of course, she’d just gotten back from bridesmaid dress shopping with his sisters, so maybe she was desperate.
“ Signore Ballini. He owns many restaurants and may be open to partnering with La Dolce Famiglia.” He paused and tried to roll his tongue over the word without a stumble. “He has heard about my marriage and insists on meeting my wife.”
She snickered and stopped by a stand to linger over the taleggio, which was a soft, fragrant cheese, and an array of salty cold meats. Her quick conversation with the vendor in
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