A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,48

what I remember from that day? The way you held me after. Do you know how long it had been since someone had tried to comfort me? Since someone had wiped away my tears? Not since my mother. Before that, I had done all of the comforting, and then when I needed someone? You were there. And you told me it would be okay. More than that, you made it okay. So don’t tell me you aren’t good. You are.”

He didn’t believe her, because she didn’t know the whole truth. But he wanted to hold her words tightly inside of him, wanted to cling to her vision of him, didn’t want her to see him any other way.

“I got blood on your face,” he said, his voice rough. “That day when I wiped your tears.”

She looked at him with those dark, beautiful eyes. “It was worth it.” She took a step toward him, taking his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

And he was powerless to do anything but follow her.

Alessia woke the next morning with a bone-deep feeling of contentment. She noticed because she’d never felt anything like it before. Had never felt like things were simply right in the world. That there wasn’t anything big left to accomplish. That she just wanted to stay and live in the moment. A moment made sweeter by the fact that there was nothing pressing or horrible looming in the future.

Then she became conscious of a solid, warm weight at her back, a hand resting on her bare hip. And she was naked, which was unusual because she normally slept in a nightgown.

A nightgown that was torn.

A smile stretched across her face and she rolled over to face Matteo. Her lover. Her husband. He was still sleeping, the lines on his forehead smoothed, his expression much more relaxed than it ever was when he was awake.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the edge of his mouth. She wanted him again. It didn’t matter how many times he’d turned to her in the middle of the night, she wanted him again. It didn’t matter if they had sex, or if he just touched her, but she wanted him. His presence, his kiss, him breathing near her.

This moment was one she’d dreamed of for half of her life. This moment with Matteo Corretti. Not with any other man.

She’d woken up next to him once before, but she hadn’t been able to savor it. Her wedding had been looming in the not-too-distant future and guilt and fear had had her running out the door before Matteo had woken up.

But not this morning. This morning, she would stay with him until he woke. And maybe she would share his bed again tonight. And every night after that. He was her husband, after all, and it only seemed right that they sleep together.

They were going to try to make a real marriage out of a legal one.

He’ll never love you.

She ignored the chill that spread through her veins when that thought invaded her mind. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t dwell on it. Right now, she had a hope at a future she could be happy with. Matteo in her bed. In her life.

And she was having his baby. At some point, that would sink in and not just be a vague, sort of frightening, sort of wonderful thought.

But right now, she was simply lingering in the moment. Not wondering if Matteo’s feelings would ever change, not worrying about changing diapers.

He shifted then, his eyes fluttering open. “Good morning,” he said. So much different than his greeting the morning after their wedding.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“You are. And I’ve always wanted to say that.” To you.

“Alessia … you are something.”

“I know, right?” Matteo rolled over onto his back and she followed him, resting her breasts on his chest, her chin propped up on her hands. “Last night was wonderful.”

He looked slightly uncomfortable. Well, she imagined she wasn’t playing the part of blasé sophisticate very well, but in her defense … she wasn’t one. She was a women with very little sexual experience having the time of her life with a man who’d spent years as the star attraction in her fantasies. It was sort of hard to be cool in those circumstances.

He kissed her, cupping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and hummed low in her throat. “You’re so good at that,” she said when they parted. “I feel like I have