Eyes locked on Niccolo’s hooded, sensuous stare, she leaned forward and lowered herself onto his thick shaft. Sensation throbbed through her entire being as he slowly filled her.
His eyes pulsed, hands reaching for her face, his neck lifting as he gently pulled her down to him. Their mouths caressed. His lips parted, thick, silken tongue sweeping into her mouth, and then Georgia was lost to everything but Niccolo and the passion burning through them.
Mouths fused, she cupped his head tightly as she rocked on him, shivering at the sensation of his fingers dancing over her back; his every touch, every sweep of his tongue against hers stoking the flame of desire that blazed so brilliantly.
She could feel herself thickening, her climax building, and pressed down harder on him, wanting the pleasure to go on forever. Their kisses slowed, and then their mouths stopped moving for anything but breaths, lips barely touching as the thickening contracted into a tight ball before exploding in waves of indescribable pleasure that rippled through to her every crevice. Crying her pleasure into Niccolo’s mouth, Georgia closed her eyes and rode the blissful waves for as long as she could, the sensations relighting when his hands tightened on her back and he went rigid, thrusting hard into her with a strangled groan she felt as deeply as anything she’d ever felt before.
Niccolo stood naked at the bedroom window, peering through the gap in the curtains. There was little cloud cover that night, the moon shining down on the vast garden, illuminating it in shadows. He got why Georgia had refused to let him open any of the curtains or blinds. For twenty-four hours, the windows’ covers had given them the illusion of being cut off from the world. If not for the calls from Dante, they could have fooled themselves into believing it really was only the two of them in the world.
It felt like his world had gone into reverse. Paris hadn’t been the only instance where they’d hidden themselves away in a bed for days at a time. Their appetite for each other had been limitless, and now it felt like he’d stepped back in time to that same place, their craving for each other a drug that needed constant feeding.
But their cravings had a darker hue than their lovemaking from before, foreboding of what awaited them outside their cocoon no longer spoken about but there in every kiss and touch.
Hearing the door open, he closed the curtains as Georgia slipped into the room carrying medical supplies.
She was wearing another of Benjamin’s shirts. Her curves looked incredible in it. She could only look better if it were his own shirt she was wearing.
“Time to change your bandage,” she said softly, sitting on the bed and patting the space beside her.
The bandage didn’t need changing. He knew that. But he’d seen the anxiety drawn on her face all the other times she’d insisted on changing it and the flashes of relief when she peeled the bandages away. This was Georgia reassuring herself that his wound hadn’t become infected.
“How’s it looking, Doctor Thomas?” he asked when she’d removed the latest bandage, striving for lightness because hewanted nothing more than for her to forget that she’d been the one to inflict the wound.
She gave a lopsided smile. “As healthy as an amateurly stitched-up stab wound can look.” The smile dropped. “Are you still in a lot of pain?”
“No.” It helped that Georgia had gone on a hunt for stronger medication and had found Benjamin’s stash of co-codamol, a much stronger painkiller than what she’d been able to buy at the pharmacy. She’d practically force-fed the first two of them into his mouth. The initial paracetamol and vodka had taken the edge off. The co-codamol took the edge off the edge. He didn’t even need the edge taking off now.
“Some pain?”
“A little,” he admitted, because he could not lie to her. “Nothing I can’t live with.”
“What about your head?”
“Not even a dull ache now.”
“Well, that’s something.” Her smile returned. “I might even be able to stop panicking about you getting a concussion.”
“I have a very hard head,” he assured her with a wink.
This time she smiled with the whole of her face and looked about to make a quip back when her eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed his hand and placed it low on her abdomen, under the shirt.
“Can you feel it?” she asked, holding his hand in place. “Butterflies beneath my skin. It feels stronger than the others.”
He concentrated hard. “I can feel…” His heart leapt. “Something.”
Beneath his hand, the slightest of ripples, like there was something alien living under Georgia’s skin. His heart made another leap, a leap that landed like a punch.
That alien thing was his baby. He could feel their baby.
Meeting Georgia’s dancing pale blue eyes, a sense of wonder overtook him.He could feel their baby. “That’s incredible.”
Her teeth gleamed. “Isn’t it? The first time I felt it, I cried.”
The ripples stopped, but he didn’t move his hand. “Just incredible,” he repeated, completely awed. He’d just felt their baby.
She cupped his cheek and rubbed her fingers over the beard that had sprouted in their time there.
The smile he could feel on every millimetre of his face dimmed as an unwelcome thought intruded.
