Special Deliveries: Her Nine-Month Secret. Charlene Sands

definitely not the signs of a woman who wants to talk…’ To emphasise his point, he straddled her in one easy movement and, on cue, she arched back, offering her breasts to him and closing her eyes as he began the languorous process of exploring every inch of them.

      He could spend hours teasing and playing with her breasts. He loved everything about them. He had long given up asking himself how he could ever have gone out with women who weren’t as generously built as the woman who was now writhing underneath him.

      Holly’s breathing was fast and interspersed with small little moans of satisfaction as he licked and nibbled. She half-opened her eyes to gaze lovingly at his dark head. When he nudged at her with his erection, she slipped into a bubble of pure ecstasy, and as he thrust forcefully in she was swept away. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony. She was already so excited that she could feel her orgasm building as he continued to push into her but she had learned to hold off until she could feel them both at the same point.

      It came quickly, then she let herself go. Her moans became cries until her mind and body parted company and she was no longer capable of thinking. She shuddered, raking her fingers along the length of his back and feeling the hardness of muscle and sinew under them. More than anything, she wanted to shout out how much she loved him but she held it in.

      Ages ago he had told her about a woman he had been seeing, a woman he had almost married whom he had believed was madly in love with him, only to find out that she had been stringing him along. He hadn’t given any details and Holly had known not to press. She had kept a steady smile on her face while he had told her this story in passing. Who was she to demand explanations when she, too, had once fancied herself in love, only to realise that once the first flush had faded there was just not enough there to pull them through.

      Now, of course, she could see that what she had felt at the time had been nothing. That said, instinct had told her that telling him how much she loved him might not be something he wanted to hear, even though they had now been seeing each other for so long that he must surely guess, just as she did.

      He fell back next to her on the sofa and flung his hand over his face before turning on his side and pulling her against him.

      ‘How do you do that?’ Luiz murmured. ‘How do you always manage to get me so worked up that I can’t control myself?’ He gave her a crooked smile and outlined her full mouth with his finger. Not only could she get him so worked up that he couldn’t control himself, she also managed the impossible feat of making him want to take her all over again within moments of being sated. No woman had ever been able to do that, but then again no woman had ever been so utterly lacking in any kind of agenda. It was just perfect.

      ‘Don’t tell me I’m the first to do that.’ Holly smiled back at him. She thought of that woman he had once been in love with, the woman she had had no trouble tossing away in a cupboard at the back of her mind. Except now, with a bottle of wine growing steadily warmer outside, and talk of a future between them on the cards, that mysterious woman was demanding some attention. ‘What about… you know, Clarissa… the woman you nearly married seven years ago.’

      Luiz frowned and drew back to gaze down at her flushed face with a quizzical expression. He had no idea how he had been persuaded into telling her about Clarissa, his biggest mistake and valuable learning curve. But, then again, hadn’t he told her a lot of things over time, from that very first moment when he had found himself confiding in her about his father and his feelings of grief that had blinded him to the dangers of the icy country lanes? The grief that had sent his car spinning out of control and landed him in her cottage and, not long after, in her bed. She occupied a special position, one which was far removed from his daily life and, as such, he had ended up telling her a hell of a lot more than he had ever told anyone else in his life.

      But now she was smiling and asking about Clarissa and his antenna was picking up signals that were sending little threads of alarm through him. Although he was sure that he was just imagining that. He relaxed and held her close to him.

      ‘Let’s not go there.’ He nuzzled the column of her neck and felt her shiver responsively. ‘The past should never be raked up. What’s the point?’ He moved to kiss her lips, a long, gentle lingering kiss that did all those wonderfully familiar things to his manhood. ‘I don’t ask you about your ex,’ he pointed out.

      ‘You don’t have to.’ For once, the feel of him against her and the rub of his arousal pushing to insert itself between her thighs was not enough to bring all her brain functions to a grinding halt. ‘You know everything there is to know about him.’

      ‘I don’t understand where this is coming from.’

      ‘I’m just curious. What was it about her that you fell in love with?’

      Luiz pulled away and lay on his back in silence for a few seconds, hands clasped behind his head. ‘It was just one of those relationships that didn’t work out,’ he said abruptly. ‘I should go and have a shower.’ He levered himself off the sofa with a twinge of regret. He would have liked to stay put, lost himself in her again, but he really wasn’t interested in prolonging a conversation about Clarissa James.

      When he had told her about Clarissa, it had been to assuage her curiosity about his unmarried status. Once bitten, twice shy, he had wryly concluded, having omitted most of the details of the relationship—notably the fact that Clarissa James had played him for a fool. He and Clarissa had gone out and she had been a breath of fresh air after his diet of elegant, eligible women. She had been wild, willing and, to start with at least, satisfyingly hard to get. By the time doubts had set in and Luiz had found himself ready to move on, she had declared herself pregnant.

      The wild child with the tangle of gypsy-black hair and eccentric clothes that had always looked just right had somehow morphed into a calculating woman who was in a position to call all the shots. It had just been a fortunate accident that he had discovered the stash of contraceptive pills buried in a compartment in her handbag. The packet that was one pill lighter every day for the seven days he had routinely checked.

      She had played him for a fool and in the aftermath he had had to endure his family cautioning him about gold-diggers and his sisters gleefully thinking that they could arrange his private life to save him the bother of another mistake—not to mention friends and colleagues to whom he had given no explanation for the break-up, only to say what he had said to Holly, that it hadn’t worked out. Doubtless they had drawn other, more elaborate conclusions for the sudden demise of the relationship.

      ‘Why won’t you talk about her?’ Holly demanded. She sat up and reached down for her discarded underwear. For a few seconds she had the strangest sensation of being suddenly cast adrift on unknown waters. There was an edginess to the atmosphere that made her want just to keep quiet and go with the flow as she had done in the past, but something else was pushing her on to ask him the question that had been playing on her mind for the past couple of months: where were they going? What was the next step for them?

      ‘Because there’s nothing to talk about!’ Back in his clothes, Luiz turned to see that she had also got into hers although she still had that tousled, thoroughly kissed look that could do things to his body.

      ‘Were you in love with her?’

      Luiz paused. He felt as though he had taken a direct hit. The comfortable situation in which she was pleasantly deluded about his wealth, his power and the horror of how it could corrupt no longer felt quite so comfortable. Nor was it so easy to sidestep the reality that the piece of fiction which now lay between them like a gaping chasm wasn’t quite as harmless as he conveniently liked to pretend to himself.

      ‘It felt that way at the time,’ he grudgingly offered. ‘I was wrong.’

      ‘But it left a mark on you.’

      ‘Naturally. That’s the thing about bad experiences, they usually do. Now, are we going to spend the rest of the evening sitting here discussing something that’s not relevant or are we going to have some of that wine you tell me is waiting outside?’

      ‘It’ll be warm.’ Suddenly the wine and the crudités seemed a