Escape for Easter: The Brunelli Baby Bargain / The Italian Boss's Secret Child / The Midwife's Miracle Baby. Trish Morey

the curve of her upper lip, a slow sensual smile forming on his own mouth when his actions drew a second deep throaty moan from her. ‘I haven’t wanted a woman for a long time.’

      His words sent a fresh rush of heat through her body. ‘But you want me?’

      The electricity in the lengthening silence had nothing to do with the storm raging outside. When he finally spoke his voice was thick and heavily accented.

      ‘What do you think?’ His big hands slid to her hips and, cupping her bottom, he drew her hard against his body so that she could feel the strength of his arousal.

      A whimpering sound left her throat as she felt the erotic imprint of his erection in the soft flesh of her belly.

      ‘Will you take all of me, cara?’ Without waiting for a response he took hold of the hem of her top, and peeling it over her head, flung it over his shoulder before reaching for the clip on her bra.

      A tiny sliver of sense surfaced and Sam shook her head.

      ‘Not yet.’

      Shivering as the cool air hit her overheated skin, Sam was glad of the dark as he suggested, ‘For you too, I think, it has been a long time?’ His voice shook, tremors raking his lean frame as he bent his head and claimed her lips again.

      Sam was startled when, his hands still anchored to her hips, he fell to his knees. He placed a hand in the small of her back and drew her towards him.

      ‘What are you…?’ She broke off, gasping as she felt the flicker of his tongue across her hardened nipples through the silk of her bra. Her head went back and a low keening cry left her throat as the erotic caress sent a pulse of heat deep into her pelvis, then again and again as he drew the tight peak into his mouth.

      ‘Oh, God!’ she moaned, and didn’t recognise her voice. Her head was spinning and she couldn’t focus. Her body was on fire; every nerve ending was screaming for his attention. Her knees sagged and she thought how she couldn’t take any more of what he was doing, except maybe the words were not in her head, maybe she said them out loud, because he groaned.

      ‘Me neither, cara.’ Then he picked her up, his big hands cupped under her bottom supporting her weight as he rose to his feet in fluid motion.

      Feet clear of the ground, Sam linked her arms behind his head and kissed him hard on his mouth. He tasted of whisky and she remembered the empty bottles.

      ‘Are you drunk?’

      ‘That would be an excuse,’ he agreed. ‘But, no, I’m not, though neither do I think I am totally sane.’ He bent his head to kiss her once more.

      ‘You taste so good,’ he slurred thickly. ‘Do all ministering angels taste this good?’

      ‘Don’t stop!’ she pleaded, her fingers tangling in his hair drawing his face to her body.

      ‘I won’t…I can’t.’ Something in his voice conveyed he found the situation incomprehensible, which made two of them, Sam thought, clinging on tight as in total pitch darkness he took the flight of stone stairs two a time. He acted as though she weighed nothing. The muscles in his arms, and for that matter everywhere else, were obviously not just for show.

      He kicked open the bedroom door and backed in carrying her. A flash of lightning zigzagged in the sky outside the stone mullion and for a moment she saw the room and him.

      By the time he laid her on the four-poster and joined her the darkness had closed back in around them like a blanket, but the memory of the primal need etched into his dark features stayed with her.

      She felt his hands on her body stripping off her remaining clothes, his touch adding fuel to the fire of frustration that was growing inside her.

      She could hear his breath come faster as he touched her breasts, weighing and cupping them in his hands—by which time she was not breathing at all.

      As his hands slid down her body she recalled reading somewhere that a person’s inhibitions were freed in the dark. It had to be true because now she found herself taking his hand and pressing it against the damp apex of her legs, urging him to touch her.

      ‘This isn’t me,’ she whispered as he slid fingers into her heat and dampness, causing her body to arch like a bow. She was on fire, she was melting…she was aching.

      ‘Well, whoever you are, cara, you’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.’

      She let out a cry of protest when he levered himself off her, but literally seconds later he returned and his clothes were gone. The skin-to-skin contact sent a shock wave through her body, but it also seemed to kick-start her natural instincts into life.

      ‘You’re beautiful!’ She felt her first rush of feminine power as she laid a hand flat on his chest and a ripple shuddered through his body. ‘God, you feel so good.’

      It was liberating and wildly exciting to slide her fingers over his smooth skin and hear his harsh intake of breath as her fingers tangled in the hair on his chest before sliding lower. The rippling male strength of his body fascinated her.

      Her eyes closed tight, her breath coming in tiny gusty puffs, she let her hand trail even lower.

      Her gasp and hasty withdrawal soon afterwards drew a low husky chuckle from the man beside her.

      ‘I said it had been a long time.’ He kissed her mouth and breathed thickly. ‘It’s what you do to me.’

      Adjusting his position so that they lay face to face, he pulled her leg across his hip. He let her feel his arousal against her belly, then drew her hand down between them, curling her fingers around the hard shaft.

      A flash of heat washed over her body as things shifted and tightened low in her pelvis. ‘You are incredible…’

      This time it was Cesare who pulled her hand away, stifling her small cry of protest with his mouth. As they kissed with a feverish desperation their bodies pressed into one another as they fought to be one.

      The anticipation lodged like a fist behind her breastbone as he flipped her onto her back. He was a dark shadow above her as he laid a hand either side of her head.

      A fractured sigh left her lips as he inserted a knee between her legs and opened them before settling between them. As he thrust up and into her a shocked cry was wrenched from Sam’s throat at the moment of intimate invasion.

      Above her she was conscious of him speaking in the same tone as someone might use to gentle a scared animal. His voice was low, and he might have been saying anything—she didn’t understand a word of Italian—but it sounded incredible. He also felt incredible and while she sort of knew what came next she couldn’t wait to find out.

      She grabbed his shoulders, sliding her fingers down the smooth contours of his muscled back until they came to rest on his taut buttocks.

      Above her she could hear the harsh sound of his laboured breathing. She grabbed really hard, arched against him and begged, ‘Please!’

      The fierce request drew a groan from his chest. ‘Don’t push too hard. I need to stay in control…’

      Sam didn’t need him in control, she needed him out of control. The fire in her blood was telling her she did.

      He seemed to get the drift of her fierce request because a moment later he responded, and started to move, building a steady rhythm as he thrust deeper and deeper into her.

      Her body closed around him and she wrapped her legs around his waist as the raw urgency that boiled in her blood took her over completely.

      The anticipation built inside her until she thought she might explode or ignite—she did both.

      It started slowly with small quivers and then it hit her, the strength of the climatic moment shocking a cry from her lips as she felt his hot release inside her.

      He lay on top of her, neither making any effort to break the intimate