He glanced at her briefly before turning back to his ministrations. ‘Fine.’
‘Good.’ She eased her head back as he pressed his thumb into her heel, and she gasped as pleasure darted all the way up her leg.
‘Sorry,’ he said, easing off.
‘No, it was good.’ She laughed.So. Damn. Good. ‘I just won’t be capable of conversation if you keep doing it.’
When he did it again, Peyton figured that was a sign he was done with talking and she gave herself up to the pure magic of his hands, hovering on a blissful plane a few inches off the couch as Valentino’s deep steady strokes soothed all the aches away.
She watched him through half-closed lids, diligently concentrating on the job, his eyes never leaving her feet, the deep press of his fingers sending streaks of sensation from her foot up her instep to her calf, tracking up her inner thighs and burrowing right between them, making her deliciously achy. Her breathing turned rough as it continued and she melted into a puddle, a boneless mass of longing.
It was wrong on so many levels. She’d told himthiswasn’t going to happen. But she wanted him more now than she ever had, squirming to ease the ache inside, pressing her palm to her belly, hoping that would also somehow satisfy the gnaw of her need.
Bloody hell. How was she going to get to the end of this pregnancy keeping him at arm’s length?
Caught up in the wash of her thoughts, it took a moment for Peyton to realise that the stroking had stopped and her eyes popped open.
‘Hey,’ she protested quietly, lifting her head to look at him. ‘You stopped.’
What she saw cut the breath in her throat. Valentino looking at her hand splayed against her belly with intense longing. When his gaze finally lifted, it locked with hers. ‘Can I… can I see?’
He was sounsure, and Peyton blinked at this version of Valentino. She’d never seen him like this before, this suave Italian playboy surgeon. He was always so in control, in command, and she could have no more refused this needier version of him than have got her boneless body up off the couch.
Not trusting her voice, Peyton nodded as she slowly inched the fabric of her T-shirt up her abdomen until the small bulge of her pregnancy was exposed to his view. His dark eyes followed the movement intently, the suck of his breath as she lay fully exposed to him loud in the quiet room.
‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, staring reverently for long moments before his gaze met hers again. ‘May I?’
Peyton lifted her hands away, giving him free reign, watching as his hands left her feet, slid up the sides of her thighs, to hips that were less angular these days and onto her stomach. Her muscles contracted beneath his touch as he pulled the waistband of her skirt down slightly before his hands moved to cradle his child.
Peyton widened her legs to allow him better access, which Valentino took, closing the gap, his lips landing on her belly gently, dropping a string of kisses across the swell. Unbelievably touched by his reverence, her eyes blurred and her fingers speared into his hair. He nuzzled then, his tongue joining in, swirling wet circles, the erotic scrape of his three-day growth producing a tiny whimper from the back of her throat.
He glanced up, resting his chin lightly against the rise of her stomach, and the air in Peyton’s lungs felt heavy as sand. Not taking his eyes off hers, Valentino’s hands pushed beneath thehem of her T-shirt and moved slowly – ever so slowly – up. It was more than clear to her that she could tell him to stop at any time and he would.
But Peyton didnotwant him to stop.
His fingers brushed her breasts, which had filled out enough to have an undercurve. They stroked higher as the shirt rode ever upwards, the taut peaks of her nipples beneath the lace finally feeling the unhurried swipe of his fingers.
Peyton cried out at the pleasure, calling his name as she arched her back, needing him to kiss her, raising her head to demand it only to find him right there, looming over her, dropping his head to claim her mouth.
And there was no holding back. His mouth was sweeter than she remembered and she couldn’t get enough, opening to him, drowning in the taste of his deep guttural groan, clinging to him like she had that first time together.
She was greedy and so damn needy all at once, her pulse a rushing river in her ears.
Big hands pushed aside her bra cups and Peyton arched into his palm as he squeezed, his mouth breaking from hers to suck the taut bud into his mouth, his teeth scraping against the tip mercilessly. It felt so damn good, it was all Peyton could do to not scream in pleasure.
Releasing it, Valentino looked down at her and muttered, ‘Ti voglio troppo.’
Peyton didn’t know what it meant but he looked like he wanted to devour her and, after months of banked desire, she knew exactly how he felt. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs as she burnt up beneath his incendiary stare. She wanted him in her so badly she could almost feel him.
But even halfway crazy with lust she knew she couldn’t risk going all the way.
‘We can’t…’
‘I know, it’s okay.’ He nuzzled her neck, whispering, ‘Lie on your side.’
Peyton gave him kudos for having a plan – she was beyond such things. Eagerly she followed his instructions and then they were on their sides facing each other and Valentino’s mouth was plundering hers and his hands were roaming over her breasts and stomach, sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.
Her hands roamed too, plucking at Valentino’s shirt, lifting it over his head. The fly of his trousers was next, the zip ceding quickly to her questing fingers, his erection brushing her knuckles before she slippedherhand insidehisunderwear, filling her hand with his thick, hard cock.
