Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“Yes,” Maxim hisses, and he pushes once more and suddenly stills with a growl. Alessia cries out as she explodes around him once, twice, again, spiraling out of control beneath his tense body.
When she opens her eyes, his forehead is against hers, his eyes screwed shut.
“Oh, Alessia,” he breathes.
After a moment he opens his eyes, and she strokes his cheek as they gaze at each other. He is so dear. So, so dear.
“Të dua,” she whispers.
“What does that mean?”
She smiles, and he responds in kind, his face full of wonder and…reverence, maybe. He bends and kisses her lips, her eyelids, her cheeks, her jaw, and slowly eases himself out of her. Alessia whimpers feeling the loss, then she drifts, replete but exhausted, and falls asleep in his arms.
* * *
She lies curled up beside me, swaddled in the quilt.
Small. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
This young woman who has been through so much is now here beside me, where I can protect her. I stretch out, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest: her lips parted as she breathes, her dark lashes fanned out over her cheeks. Her skin is fair, her lips rosy. She’s gorgeous, and I know that I will never tire of looking at her. I’m enthralled and spellbound by her. She’s magical, in every way.
I’ve had sex too many times to count, but I’ve never felt this connected. It’s a foreign and unsettling feeling, as is my yearning for more.
I brush a stray lock of hair off her forehead simply as an excuse to touch her. Alessia stirs and mumbles something in Albanian, and I freeze, afraid that I’ve woken her. But she settles once more into a peaceful sleep and I remember that she’ll fear the dark should she wake. Careful not to disturb her, I climb out of bed and hurry downstairs to retrieve the night-light I purchased earlier. I fit the batteries, switch it on, and place it on the bedside table next to Alessia. Should she wake, she won’t be in darkness.
Slipping back under the covers, I lie down and study her. She’s lovely—the curve of her cheek, of her chin, the way that tiny gold cross nestles in the hollow at the base of her throat—she’s exquisite. She looks young but serene as she sleeps. Taking a strand of her hair, I wind it around my finger. I hope to God she’s feeling safer now. And that her dreams aren’t the nightmares she endured yesterday. She sighs, and her lips curl in a smile. Her expression is encouraging. I gaze at her until I can no longer keep my eyes open. And before I drift off to sleep, I murmur her name.
Alessia.
Chapter Sixteen
I sense her before I’m fully awake. The warmth of her body seeps into mine. Enjoying the feel of her skin on my skin, I open my eyes to greet the misty morning and the lovely Alessia. She’s fast asleep and curled around me like a fern, her hand on my belly, her head on my chest. My arm is wrapped possessively around her shoulders, holding her close, and she’s naked. I grin as my body rouses.
What a difference a day makes.
I lie for a moment cherishing her heat and the fragrance of her hair. She shifts and mumbles something unintelligible, and her eyelids flutter open.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I whisper. “This is your early-morning wake-up call.” And I ease her onto her back. She blinks a couple of times as I kiss the tip of her nose and nuzzle the pulse point beneath her ear, and she beams and throws her arms around my neck as my hand travels down to her breast.
* * *
The sun is shining. The air is crisp and cold. “No Diggity” blares over the sound system as I drive up the A39 toward Padstow. I’ve ruled out going to Sunday service. There’ll be too many people at the local parish church who know me. Once I’ve told Alessia who I am and what I do…then maybe. I glance at her as her heels bounce in time to the music. She flashes me a quick crotch-tightening grin.
Man, she is captivating.
Her smile lights up the Jag’s interior—and me.
I give her a wicked smile in return, remembering this morning. And last night. She tucks her wild hair behind her ear, and an innocent blush steals across her cheeks. Perhaps she’s thinking about this morning, too. I hope so. I see her, a vision in my bed, head tipped back in ecstasy, her mouth open as she cries out and comes, her hair spilling over the edge of the bed. My blood heads south at the thought. Yeah. She seemed to enjoy it. She seemed to enjoy it very much. Shifting in my seat at the memory, I reach across to squeeze her knee.