He was deep, so deep inside her.
Still dazzled by the pleasure he’d given her with his mouth, Hallie moaned softly as he entranced her anew, filling her so completely. She tried to remember when she’d ever felt such intense pleasure. Even their first night together, as incredible as it had been, hadn’t been like this. What was the difference? Was it that they were wed, bonded together forever as man and wife?
Or was it something more, something she felt in the deepest corner of her soul—that he belonged to her, and she to him?
But, as he filled her so slowly and deeply, it wasn’t just her body that ached desperately for release.
She wanted to love him.
That was the one thing she couldn’t do. The one thing that could only lead to ruin: loving her husband.
For a moment, she looked up at his handsome face looming over hers, at his heartbreaking dark eyes. She closed her eyes, turning away as he kissed slowly down her throat.
Slowly, deliberately, he began to ride her. And all she wanted was more. She gasped, clutching at the white comforter beneath her, wrapping her legs around his hips. His thrusts seared her, hard and deep.
Gripping her shoulders, he pushed into her with increasing roughness until their bodies were sweaty, their limbs tangled. Her fingernails tightened into his shoulders, her back rising off the bed, until she exploded, flying even higher than before, higher than she’d ever imagined. Pleasure overwhelmed her in waves so intense she almost blacked out.
With a low growl, he thrust one last time, then roared as he exploded with her.
Gasping, they clutched each other, eyes closed. She struggled to catch her breath. He collapsed beside her, holding her as if she were the only thing that existed. They held each other, tangled in the shadowy bed, for what could have been minutes or hours.
When Hallie finally opened her eyes, she saw Cristiano was pulling away from her, sitting up.
“Don’t leave,” she pleaded, reaching for him. “We still have a few hours.”
He smiled down at her, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. “It would be good to arrive in Rome early. My jet is already waiting. We should go.”
“But our friends...”
“Our friends will understand.” Leaning down, he kissed her naked shoulder with a sudden wicked grin. “And there’s a bedroom on my jet.”
Shivering with need, exhausted with desire, Hallie grinned at him. She blushed, shocked at her own wantonness.
Lowering his head to kiss her one last time, he whispered, “You are magnificent, Mrs. Moretti.” Getting up from the bed, he headed for the en suite shower.
Once he left her, she felt suddenly cold, bereft. She wanted him back in bed. Beside her. For always. And not just that.
With an intake of breath, Hallie realized how easy it would be to give her husband—the man who’d told her outright that he could never love her—not just her body, but her soul.
CHAPTER SIX
AS THE ROLLS-ROYCE drove from the private airport into the crowded and winding streets of Rome, Hallie’s head was twisting right and left. She knew she was gaping like a fish, but she didn’t care.
After five years in New York, she’d thought no city could easily impress her; yet she’d never seen anything so beautiful, so decadent, so ancient, as the Eternal City.
She looked out the window at a red sports car zipping by, at a young girl in a scarf clinging to a smiling boy on the back of a cherry-colored moped. Down the street, she saw a passionate young couple gesticulating angrily at each other in front of a sidewalk café, before the man swept the woman up into a hungry kiss.
Roma. Hallie felt the city like a thunderbolt. It was like, she thought, a huge, sexy party, with food, wine and dancing—all on top of an ancient tomb. The city itself seemed to cry out: Take every bit of joy today, for someday you will not be at the party, but below it.
“What do you think?” Cristiano looked at her over the baby’s seat in the back of the limo.
She shivered at the frank sensuality of his gaze. She could hardly believe that she was his wife. Cristiano was her husband. Good thing, too. What he’d done to her last night...
After their passionate interlude at the penthouse, they’d made good use of that bedroom on his private jet. Any time the baby slept, he drew her into his bed, into shockingly sensual delights so new she still shook at the memory.
He smiled, his eyes amused, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about.
Blushing, she turned back toward her window, marveling as their Rolls-Royce sped down slender, crowded roads, following traffic laws she didn’t understand. They’d been met at the airport that morning by their new Italian driver, who was called Marco, and new bodyguard, Salvatore. She gaped as they drove past one incredible ancient monument and cathedral after another. Finally, they arrived at the Campania Hotel Rome, a magnificent Mediterranean-style edifice near the top of the Spanish Steps.