She undid the snap on his jeans, her eyes utterly transfixed on the line of hair that ran down his taught, flat belly and disappeared into his pants. She knew where it led, and yet the curiosity and excitement she felt made it seem as though she didn’t.
“You’re so sexy,” she breathed.
With a growl he pushed her onto the couch, settling between her willing thighs. “Oh, Alison, my love, you don’t know how that makes me feel. It’s unlike anything else in this life.”
“I think I have an idea.” She opened herself to him, bring his shaft against the moist heart of her body.
He kissed her, deeply, all consuming, as though he was trying to devour her. He stripped her pants and underwear off in one fluid movement and then took care of his own, leaving them naked. No barriers. Nothing between them. It was as honest as two people could be with one another. There were no secrets between them, no way to hide anything. Not their insecurities, not the bulge of her tummy that housed their child, not the feeling of pure, sweet love, coursing between them.
She positioned herself over his body and took him inside of her slowly, relishing the feeling of becoming one with him. She felt herself expand to accommodate him and she sighed with completion and satisfaction when he was buried in her up to the hilt.
She rose and fell, taking him in and pulling away almost completely each time. The rhythm took them over and they were both climbing together, their breathing synchronized, her body tightening, his expanding.
She locked eyes with him, felt tears starting to fall as she looked at the emotion in them. Emotion she was certain was mirrored in her own. They went over the edge together, holding each other, his arms the only thing keeping her from flying apart.
He cradled her in his arms, whispering soft, sweet words, flowing seamlessly from Italian to English.
“Te amo,” he said. “I love you.”
“Max.” Her voice was thick with emotion, her heart so full she thought it might not be able to hold all he was making her feel.
“I love you. I know I could have said it earlier, but I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you my heart, the painting. I wanted to show you my need, my desperation, by making love to you. Words are only words. By my actions I hoped to prove it to you. I have never felt anything like this before. You talked about need making people weak, and I was certainly a believer in that principle. But you were so brave, so enchanting. Your love for our child, your strength, everything about you called to me on such a deep level, and I couldn’t control what I felt for you. I wanted you to the point of constant distraction. I needed you. It—” he hesitated “—it frightened me. I didn’t want to love a woman so much, with such an all-consuming passion. But you gave me no choice. I was powerless to stop myself from falling in love with you.”
“I thought you didn’t want the baby anymore. Or me, for that matter.”
“What?”
“It started after the call from the doctor. I thought you were having second thoughts about tying yourself to me, about being a father. You didn’t choose this, Max. You didn’t choose me and I …”
“No, I didn’t choose you. You were chosen for me. I didn’t know what was best for me. I can only be thankful for divine intervention.”
“Who said you weren’t good with words?”
He leaned in and kissed her, his lips teasing hers softly. She sighed when they parted, absolute bliss radiating through her.
“I’m much better at other forms of communication,” he said.
“Show me.”
“It will be my greatest pleasure for the rest of my life.”
PRINCIPESSA Eliana Rossi came into the world with her mother’s golden hair and her father’s set of lungs. At least that’s what Alison said.
“She’s beautiful. Just like her mamma,” he said, bending over to kiss both of his women. He had only been a father for a few hours, but they had already been the most spectacular hours of his life. His love for Alison had only deepened in the past few months. Seeing her now, holding Eliana, he felt so full of love he thought he might burst.
“She’s hungry,” Alison said, lowering the top of her hospital gown and helping her daughter latch to her breast. Maximo had never seen anything more wonderful.
“Let’s have lots of children,” he declared, utterly fascinated by the miracle in front of him.
She gave him a hard glare. “Wait until I recover before you even mention such a thing.”
He grinned at her, sheepishly. “Good idea.”
“Someday she’s going to be the queen,” Alison said softly.
“Yes,” he agreed, “but for now she’s just our daughter, and we’ll do all we can to make sure she stays a little girl as long as possible.” He looked down at the tiny pink bundle. “I’m in no hurry for her to grow up.”
“You know something, Principe Maximo D’Angelo Rossi?” Her golden eyes shone with love as she looked at him, and he was concerned that his heart really might burst. “I think I love you even more today than I did yesterday.”
He bent and kissed her again, savoring the taste of her sweet lips. “I feel the same way. And I think I’ll love you even more tomorrow.”
Award-winning author ANNE McALLISTER was once given a blueprint for happiness that included a nice, literate husband, a ramshackle Victorian house, a horde of mischievous children, a bunch of big, friendly dogs and a life spent writing stories about tall, dark and handsome heroes. ‘Where do I sign up?’ she asked, and promptly did. Lots of years later, she’s happy to report the blueprint was a success. She’s always happy to share the latest news with readers at her website, www.annemcallister.com and welcomes their letters there or at PO Box 3904, Bozeman, Montana 59772, USA.
WHEN THE PHONE RANG that evening, Sophy grabbed it as fast as she could. She didn’t need it waking Lily. Not just when her daughter had finally fallen asleep.
Lily’s fourth birthday party that afternoon had exhausted them both. Normally an easygoing sunny-natured child, Lily had been wound up for days in anticipation. Five of her friends and their mothers had joined them, first at the beach and then here at the house for a cookout, followed by ice cream and cake.
Lily had been on top of the world, declaring the party, “the bestest ever.” Then, in the time-honored fashion of overtired four-year-olds everywhere, she’d crashed.
It had taken a warm bath, a cuddle on Sophy’s lap, clutching her new stuffed puppy, Chloe, and half a dozen stories to unwind her.
Now finally she was asleep, sprawled in her bed, but still clinging to Chloe. And, with the house a wreck all around her, Sophy didn’t need Lily wide awake again. So at the phone’s first shrill ring, Sophy snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Savas?”
The voice was a man’s, one she didn’t know. But it was the name she heard that gave her a jolt. Of course her cousin and business partner Natalie was now Mrs. Savas—had been ever since her marriage to Christo last year—but Sophy wasn’t used to getting calls asking for Natalie at home. For a split second she hesitated, then