Modern Romance February 2020 Books 5-8. Natalie Anderson

carried into an intensely masculine bedroom. The tips of her toes swished gracefully over thick carpet until she was twisted around and the backs of her legs met resistance in the form of a humongous four-poster bed, which her bottom fell onto.

      Immediately he sank down to kneel on the floor before her. Tonino was so tall that with him kneeling and her sitting on the bed, they became the same height.

      Large hands cupped her cheeks, dark brown eyes swirling with desire pulsed straight into her. He breathed heavily. ‘Amore mio…’ he muttered thickly against her lips, before plundering her mouth anew, his kisses feverish and wet and fierce with intensity.

      Another rush of sensory feelings exploded in her. It was as if all her passion for Tonino had been locked away in a box similar to the box that had contained her memories of him, waiting for him to prise the lid open with a kiss like the prince from a fairy tale.

      The fever in Tonino’s kisses was matched by the fever in her response. She felt drugged. Her aching body craved his touch and craved to touch him, to feel the bristles of his chest hair against her cheek. She wanted to rub her nose into it and bite at the brown nipples as she knew she’d done before.

      Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt so expertly she could only assume it was muscle memory from the days when she must have unbuttoned his shirt before working for her. In moments she had it undone and was pulling it apart and tugging the sleeves down his arms.

      Tonino pressed Orla flat back on the bed and gritted his teeth to stifle the feelings threatening to overpower him.

      Her hands reached out and touched him…everywhere. His chest, his stomach, his back, scorching his skin and firing his veins. He buried his face into her neck and ran his hands over the slender body he still remembered every inch of.

      Just the taste of Orla’s kisses was enough to fuel him as no other could.

      No wonder the few relationships he’d had since she’d disappeared from his life had ended with barely a whimper. No woman had stood a chance after he’d tasted Orla. She had stayed with him, every minute of every hour, a spectre in the corner of his eye by day and a ghost haunting his dreams by night.

      She had taken possession of his heart, slipping in without him realising until it was too late, and he’d lost her.

      He had her back now, he thought savagely, and he would never let her go again.

      Dragging a hand up a smooth thigh, her dress rising as he went, he pressed his hand over the core of her womanhood.

      She moaned into his mouth and tilted her pelvis so it pressed back against his hand, crushing herself against his naked chest. He wanted to feel her naked against him. He wanted to touch the soft skin, to kiss the pert breasts; to kiss every inch of her body, discover the changes pregnancy had wrought on it and get to know it all over again.

      Together they dispatched her knickers then he covered her sweet mouth again and, sliding a hand between her legs, he found her wet and writhing for him. Her nub was already swollen, and she moaned loudly when he pressed a finger to it and then dipped down to slide a finger inside her.

      Mouths fused together, he captured the hem of her dress and shifted it to her waist, but suddenly found himself unable to move it any higher for Orla had clamped her arms to her sides, preventing him from moving the dress another inch.

      ‘Leave it on,’ she whispered into his mouth before darting her tongue back inside the coffee-tasting depths and wrapping her arms back around his waist.

      Orla wanted this with a desperation she’d never known before. She wanted to feel everything she’d felt during the conception of their child, a memory that still hadn’t taken its full shape, and she knew that the moment he saw her unclothed, the moment would be ruined. She would be ashamed. He would be disgusted. He would ask questions. The moment would be lost.

      The feelings erupting through her were too heady, too sensuous, too everything for it to be lost.

      Guiding his hand back to the place it had been giving her such pleasure, she reached down for the button of his chinos and undid it, then pulled the zip down with an expert precision that came, again, from muscle memory.

      She had done all this before and, while she still didn’t remember it, she knew she desperately wanted to do it again. With Tonino. Only Tonino.

      She tugged the chinos and underwear down his hips then, with a flexibility she’d never dreamt she possessed, bent her knees and lifted her legs until her toes reached his clothing and she tugged them down with her feet.

      Then their mouths were fused together once more and his hand was replaced by something much harder, something long and thick and…

      In one long thrust he was inside her. The pleasure was immediate and shockingly powerful.

      Orla’s moan turned into a sigh as she adjusted to the huge weight filling her and welcomed the sensations that suddenly felt so familiar.

      Her body knew exactly what it wanted, and she closed her eyes and let it guide her. One hand buried itself in Tonino’s hair, the other grabbed hold of a buttock and drove him deeper and harder inside her as they rocked together with unintelligible whispers and moans.

      She reached her peak quickly. All the sensations infusing her fused together into a tight ball that exploded in a rolling crescendo that filled every cell in her body with the most glorious pleasure. No sooner had she welcomed the headiness of her orgasm than Tonino’s groans deepened and his thrusts hardened and quickened until he gave a long cry and collapsed on her.

      For the longest, dreamiest time, Tonino’s weight was spread deliciously on her, his face buried in her neck. She burrowed her fingers in his thick hair and turned her cheek to press her mouth to the top of his head. He kissed her neck then muttered something and withdrew from her. Keeping hold of her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so her head rested on his chest.

      Slowly the dreamy sensations subsided and the passion that had taken them both in its grip evaporated until all that was left was an ache in her heart and a throb between her legs that felt both new and familiar.

      It would be so easy to fall asleep like this. The room was in darkness—there hadn’t been the time or thought to switch a light on—the only illumination coming from the starry skies filtering through the windows.

      She waited until Tonino’s breathing became deep and rhythmic before disentangling herself from his hold.

      Sitting up carefully so as not to disturb him, she smiled sadly to see his feet were still on the floor. Not wanting him to get cold, she untangled the bedsheets and folded them over him as much as she could.

      Then she slipped off the bed, snatched up her discarded underwear and padded quietly to the door.

      She had just put her left foot over the threshold when a rich, deep voice that contained not an ounce of sleepiness caught her short.

      ‘Running away again, dolcezza?’

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ORLA WINCED. SHE’D been too hasty in her escape. She should have left it a few minutes longer to ensure Tonino was deep in sleep.

      Ashamed at being caught fleeing like an escaped bank robber, she counted to three before turning to face him.

      His bedside light switched on and she found herself staring at Tonino’s gorgeous yet inscrutable face. ‘You don’t have to leave.’

      She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear then tugged at her dress. ‘I can’t sleep in this.’

      There was a moment of loaded silence before Tonino jumped to his feet. ‘Wait there,’ he ordered as he opened a door and disappeared behind it. He came back out moments later carrying an item of clothing.

      Stalking over to her, he pressed it into