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Cristiano kissed her and he kissed her.
He kissed her for the baby she carried, the son he’d never wanted. He kissed her for the challenges she’d thrown at him, her refusal to quietly disappear the way he’d wanted, and because she still haunted him. Here, now, while he touched her, she haunted him.
Something in him rang, deep and hard, and he had the uncomfortable notion she always would.
And then, somehow, he was sinking down to his knees before her, to worship her properly.
Again.
“Cristiano...” she breathed, but he didn’t want her words.
He wanted her passion. He wanted her taste in his mouth and the molten hot clench of her body on his. Hewanted—and he was done restraining himself.
Julienne liked to dress for dinner, in what he was certain was—like that bikini of hers—a calculated campaign to make him lose his mind. It obviously worked all too well. Tonight’s selection was a formfitting, stretchy sort of dress that covered her modestly enough and yet was deeply, spectacularly immodest at the same time because it welded itself to her curves. It emphasized those full, heavy breasts, all but making love to her enormous bump.
Cristiano did the same.
He found her breasts with his hands and teased her nipples in his palms. Slowly, carefully, not sure what kind of sensation she would like now, he moved his hands in circles.
And watched her come apart.
Her head fell back. She let out a moan he was fairly certain he’d last heard when he was deep inside of her, and he felt the spike of it like her mouth along the length of him.
He kept going, playing with one nipple, then the other. He watched in fascination as her cheeks went red, goose bumps rose along her skin, and then, unmistakably, she convulsed.
She bucked in the chair and he moved closer, wedging his body between her legs. Then he hissed out a breath when he felt the molten center of her against his thigh.
“You have said a great deal tonight,cara,” he told her, murmuring the words into the side of her neck. “But as always, I’m only interested in one word. My name. I think we both know how easily it falls off your tongue.”
And then he moved down her body, helping himself to every last voluptuous inch of this new body of hers. Her glorious breasts, that swollen belly. And when he got to her thighs, he pushed the stretchy material of her dress out of his way, then up further, until he bared her to his view. He made short work of the panties she wore, tossing them aside, and then settling down to get a taste of her. Rich, sweet.
Ripe and entirely his.
He hadn’t allowed himself to think too closely about all the various things she’d said to him since she’d reappeared in his life, but suddenly, all he could think about was the fact of her innocence that night in Monte Carlo.
Only mine,a dark voice in him intoned.Only and ever mine.
He took a deep, lush taste, and kept going until she was squirming against him, panting out his name the way he liked. Only then did he pull away.
He lifted her up, enjoying the extra heft her roundness gave her. He moved her onto the gleaming, polished table, then spread her out beneath the sparkling chandelier that dated back to the time of kings and royal guests at Villa Cassara.
Then, finally, he pulled that dress from her body, and made short work of her bra. And then she was there before him in all her glory. His very own goddess, her eyes glazed with heat and need.
He pulled himself out from his trousers, already huge and ready. And he watched her face change, going hungry.
It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Cristiano braced himself on the tabletop, moved his hips to hers, and slowly, deliberately, sheathed himself in the molten grasp of her core with a single, relentless thrust.
Julienne shattered at once. Her back arched, offering all her deliciously full curves to him.
But he waited. He gritted his teeth as her pleasure washed over him, through him, and nearly sent him spiraling off into his own.
Once her initial storm passed, he began to move.
He went carefully at first, but when her response was nothing but enthusiastic, he thrust a little harder. A little deeper.
Until the two of them were moving as one, fighting together to get to that same great height that had stalked him since Monaco. That sweet rush that haunted him, night and day.
