The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her. by Clare Connelly Page A

whole body shuddered as he felt the full expression of their love making; his orgasm was intense.
    Afterwards, as he rolled her to lie on top of him, and tenderly stroked her naked back, she propped her head onto his chest. “I have to tell you something,” she said seriously, running her fingertips through the coarse hair that surrounded his nipples.
    “Oh?” His eyes were hooded. A combination of the long day, and their sexual exploration, had made him feel more satisfied than he knew possible.
    She bit down on her lip, shyly. “You are the only man I’ve ever, um, done that with.”
    His eyes flared wide, as possessive pride burned through him. Any hint of exhaustion was consumed by the fire within him. “I can’t believe it,” he groaned, gripping her face on either side with his hands. “How is that possible? It’s been three years.”
    Her cheeks flamed. “Now you’re making me feel like some kind of prude.”
    “No!” He shook his head, sitting up and pulling her with him. “It’s just… I can’t believe you haven’t had men beating a path to your door.”
    She shrugged, self-consciously. “I haven’t really been interested.”
    His smile bared his even, white teeth. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”
    She arched a brow. “I thought you might feel that way.”
    “Am I that predictable?”
    She shrugged. “I guess so.” She smiled at him, slowly, and she felt like her future was bright. That maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay after all.
    * * *
    “You’re really not nervous?”
    He was reclining lazily against her bedroom door, watching while she folded laundry. “Do I strike you as a man who feels nerves?”
    She picked up a pair of rolled socks and threw them at him. “You strike me as a human being, and everybody gets nervous from time to time. Especially when meeting the Queen.”
    “Meeting the Queen is not such a big deal. Would you like to come to the investiture ceremony?”
    She wasn’t sure if he was serious. Her heart turned over in her chest as she shook her head. “I’d be way too terrified to meet, or even see, the Queen.”
    He winked at her. “I have met the Queen before, cara. She toured one of the pediatric wings we helped fund in the states.”
    “We?” Her heart thudded painfully, as it always did, when he alluded to Carrie.
    “Yes.” His sigh was heavy. “We.”
    Annie nodded. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. It had been four blissful days since Paris. Days in which life had almost seemed to carry on as normal, but nights... Oh, the nights. Her body burst into flames just thinking about the things they’d done to each other.
    But always, at the back of it, were the questions. Questions about his past, their future. After all, he was based in America, now. She was in England. And geography was the very least of their worries.
    “What is it?” He stepped into the room and picked up a towel off the bed. With a small frown of concentration, he began to fold it. It was clear, from the effort it took, that sorting laundry was not one of his usual activities.
    Annie watched, perplexed. A sickening stone seemed to lodge in her heart. “I don’t know anything about your life.”
    “You know me . That’s what matters.”
    She was silent, working up the courage to say what she needed him to know. “Not if you see a future for us.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I feel like there are all these redacted areas of your life; parts of you I can’t catch a glimpse of because you insist on keeping the book closed.”
    He frowned. “I have told you, cara , there are things I won’t discuss out of respect for Carrie.”
    “Respect for Carrie?” Though she didn’t know the other woman, her temperature spiked. “What about respect for me?”
    He frowned. “I do respect you,” he ground out, giving up on the towel and moving swiftly around the bed to put his arms around her waist. “What do you need to know?”
    Everything