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She hadn’t meant to do that.
Or maybe she had, because Lord knew, every night she tried to sleep in this villa—this gorgeous prison—and her head was full of nothing but him. Images of the things they’d done. Of the things they might yet do. She woke up in the dark, her body one great throbbing pulse of need, and he was never there.
But Cristiano was here now. And he was hurting.
And somehow a kiss seemed to be the answer to everything. A give and a take. A soothing and a sharing, for both of them.
So she angled her head and took it deeper.
Just the way he’d taught her.
She felt him shake. It was as if he was melting, there while she touched him, and she knew that if he was in control of himself the way he normally was, he would never have allowed it. He would certainly never have let herseeit.
She had the sense of glaciers melting, ice floes cracking.
Until slowly, almost reluctantly, he kissed her back.
And she forgot, for a moment, that he had spirited her off to this place. She forgot the baby. The great belly that was now pressed between them.
Cristiano kissed her and she forgot her own name.
She heard a faint noise, low and greedy, and only belatedly realized that it was her. That it was coming from her own throat.
And when he tore his mouth from hers, he looked hunted.Haunted,something in her supplied.
With perhaps more satisfaction than necessary.
“It is already too much,” he said, dark and low. “It is already gone too far.”
“I don’t know what that means.” But she understood well enough when he stepped away, backing away from her as if she’ddone somethingto him. “Are you disgusted by my pregnancy?” Her voice was much too brittle, but she did nothing to stop it. She couldn’t. “Is that what this is?”
“Youglow,” he bit out, as if the words erupted from within. “If it is possible, you’re more beautiful now than you were before, damn you. And I think you know it.”
That was meant to be an indictment, clearly. He threw it at her, then wheeled around, and stalked away.
And Julienne should no doubt have taken herself off for another good cry.
But instead, she found herself standing there where Cristiano had left her, her mouth still tingling from the taste of him, and a smile she couldn’t quite control on her face.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEWOMANWASa demon.
There was no other explanation for that kiss. The way he’d responded and worse, what he’d said to her as he walked away. This was precisely what he’d wanted to avoid. It was why he’d stashed her away in Tuscany in the first place.
Did you really think she wouldn’t cause problems for you?a harsh voice inside him asked.If you wanted to keep her out of trouble, you should have made sure she couldn’t contact the outside world. A prison isn’t much of a prison when a person has full access to her media contacts, is it?
Cristiano meant to return to Milan. He needed to keep away from this woman who had unaccountably haunted him long before she’d turned up pregnant. But halfway to the helicopter, he thought better of it. Leaving Julienne to her own devices helped no one, least of all him. Especially not when he was stalked by the reporters she’d sent after the family secrets.
Unapologetically.
That was what he told himself, in any case, as he sent for his things and then set up his usual remote office in the villa.
His intention—had anyone asked, which no one would dare—was simply to monitor the situation here. To repress any further attempts to stir up trouble.
Even if he still didn’t know why he’d shared the details of that night in Monaco with her, when he’d never talked about that night with anyone. Much less the guilt and shame he carried with him even now.
And once in the villa, he expected her to show that relentless streak he’d so admired when she’d worked for him. He expected interrogations over his morning cappuccino, demands for further discussions at the end of his work day, or appearances in the middle of conference calls that would cause him difficulties with his colleagues when so many of them knew her.
