Page 19 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir
‘Nico?’ Emma asked softly, breaking into his thoughts. ‘What are you thinking?’
I’m thinking that I wish things were simple and straightforward, but they never are. I want to trust you even now, but I won’t let myself because I’ve had to learn not to trust people.
His mother, who had lied to him his whole life. His father, who had rejected him. Antonio, the cousin who had been like a brother, until he’d discovered he wasn’t. No, he wasn’t about to be that honest, not with Emma, not with anyone. ‘I’m sorry you had to face that,’ he said, his voice roughening to hide his emotion. ‘That would not have been my intention...or my wish, for you to have been cast out in such a way without any resources, financial or otherwise.’
She shrugged, glancing down as a tendril of her golden-brown hair fell in front of her face, obscuring her expression. ‘I don’t blame your cousin for that, to be honest. He barely knew me.Youbarely knew me.’ She looked up then, and Nico was taken aback by the challenge in her eyes.
No, he realised, he hadn’t really known her, but he’d thought he had. Was that his fault? For being so willing to believe, to jump with both feet, simply because he’d wanted to, so much, in a moment of weakness and wanting, when his own father had turned away from him?
‘Still,’ he said, ‘it must have been very difficult for you.’
She shrugged, managed one of her old, insouciant smiles that still had the power to lighten his heart, even though he saw it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Hey, ten grand is ten grand. It bought me an economy-class ticket to LA, and two months’ food and rent until I found a job, got on my feet.’
And that was presumably when she’d run out of options—and met Will. It was all starting to make a terrible sort of sense. And, Nico realised, he was starting to believe—and even trust—his wife, at least in terms of this part of her story. Or at least want to, he supposed.
His heart, he knew, was another matter entirely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EMMASNUGGLEDDEEPERunder the covers, sleepily enjoying the luxuriously smooth feel of the silken sheets, the comfortingly heavy duvet. Her bones felt as if they were melting into the soft mattress, every muscle wonderfully relaxed for the first time in ages. Her eyes closed, her mind in a pleasant haze of sleep, she stretched like a starfish—and encountered a hard chest. A hard, warm, verymalechest, muscles tensing and flexing under her questing palm.
She should have jerked her hand away. Even in her sleep-hazed state, some part of her knew this, absolutely. For her own health and safety, her ownsanity, not to mention her battered heart, she should yank her hand back, jump out of bed and keep things very, very clear, at least inthatregard. But in her sleepily befuddled state, she didn’t. For a second, no more, she flattened her palm against that hair-roughened chest, enjoying the tickle of the crisp hairs underneath her palm, the flexing muscles, the warm, burnished skin.
Then a strong male hand captured her own, whether to still it or simply keep it there, she didn’t know. Her breath caught in her chest and although she was still asleep—mostly—she moved out of instinct, out of need, unable to think past the blooming warmth and want deep in her belly. She rolled right into all that potent male warmth next to her in the bed, letting it engulf her, swallow her whole. At least that was what it felt like, as if she were being wonderfully subsumed.
In the next moment, the hand that had held her own had moved to the dip of her waist, slipping under her T-shirt and spanning her warm, welcoming flesh, covering it, owning it. Her hips came into contact with the very male part of Nico, nestling perfectly against him and sending a shockwave of sensation buzzing through her.Nowshe was awake. Very awake.
And now her mind was in an entirely different sort of haze—one of overwhelming, intoxicating desire. It thudded through her, made every sense blaze and yearn and strive, consequences be damned. Without being able to stop herself, not even wanting to, she pressed into him, sending fiery arrows of pleasure sizzling through her as his arousal pulsed between her thighs. Nico let out a muttered groan and, with his hands on her waist, he fastened her hips more securely against his, pressing against her, into her, so need flared deeper, hotter as his mouth captured her own in a plundering kiss and she remembered just how explosive it had been between them. How completely wonderful, shocking in its intensity, exciting in its passion, overwhelming her with both.
His touch was a tornado that caught her up in its heady whirl, as his mouth ravaged her own with a tender, velvety persistence and her mind blurred with longing. She grabbed his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as his hand slid from her waist to between her thighs, touching her with such clever, knowing intimacy that had her gasping aloud, pressing into him, yearning for more. She’d forgotten how good this was between them, how he made her come alive in a way she never, ever had before.
And Nico must have felt just as much as she did, for his breathing was ragged and fast as he fumbled with the overlarge T-shirt she’d worn as pyjamas, desperate to press his heated flesh against hers, just as Emma was...
Yet somehow, in the blur of desire, the blaze of need, sanity asserted itself, that still, small voice telling her this was reallynota good idea, all things considered. Somehow she managed to hold onto that faintest shred of common sense even though everything in her was longing for more. So much more.
‘Wait.’Emma pushed at his chest, which felt like an immovable wall, and to his credit Nico stilled instantly, his body pressed to hers, hishand...
‘Emma?’ His voice came out in a throaty rasp, his lips inches from hers, his forehead sheened with sweat as he held himself back.
‘We shouldn’t...’ She hitched her breath as longing coursed through her.Be smart, Emma. Stay safe.‘I’m sorry, but I’m not... I’m not ready for this.’
Even if right in this moment she felt ready, more than ready. She wasyearning.But if she gave herself to him, Emma knew, she’d lose her focus to stay strong. Smart. Safe. She might even lose herself.
She needed to figure out what their future was, before she let him into her bed, because as smart as she was trying to be, it was only a hop, skip and a jump from bed to heart, and she was not going to make that leap. Not now, and maybe not ever. She’d told herself she could separate the two before, and she might do it again, but right now she felt too vulnerable to even attempt to make that division.
Slowly Nico withdrew from her, and it felt like a loss. ‘I apologise,’ he said stiffly as he rolled up into a seated position, driving his fingers through his dark hair as a shuddery breath went through him.
‘You don’t need to...’ she began helplessly, and then, not really knowing how to finish that sentence, she pressed back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Her heart was thudding, her body tingling everywhere with awakened, unanswered desire. Was she being really stupid? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t slept together before. Playing the prude when she was pregnant with his baby was kind of ridiculous, wasn’t it?
And yet...she felt vulnerable enough already, and that was an emotion she didn’t like. She wasn’t about to become even more so.
‘I’m the one who should be sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to...well, it all just sort of happened, I guess.’
‘Well, I know it.’
He sounded wry, and Emma cracked open an eye, surprised he wasn’t doing the whole coldly furious thing with her. He smiled down at her, definitely looking rueful, colour slashing his cheeks, his green eyes glinting, and she found herself smiling back. A laugh escaped her like a bubble, the last thing she expected right now, but she was glad for it. This side of Nico, playful and wry, was so much nicer than the arrogant, autocratic man she’d encountered last night. She was glad for it, for him.
‘Come on,’ he said, hauling her up by the hand. ‘We have a doctor’s appointment this morning.’