The Secret Kept From The Italian

‘Antonio...’

His breath came out in a ragged hiss as he stared down at her, aghast at the possibility of her having second thoughts. ‘Do you want me, Maisie?’

‘Yes...’ Her voice wavered and Antonio cursed himself for having rushed things.

‘Do you want this?’ He gestured to the space between them, the look in his eyes surely leaving no confusion as to what he meant.

Maisie lay on the sofa, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted, her expression dazed and full of desire. She drew in a long, slow breath, her gaze searching him, asking silent questions Antonio didn’t know how to answer. He waited, fists clenched, everything taut and expectant, as he braced himself for her reply.

‘Yes,’ she whispered finally, and her head fell back against the cushions. ‘Yes, I do.’

CHAPTER THREE (#u15d33414-54e8-57e4-8830-cd8898d60d39)

MAISIE GAZED UP at Antonio’s intent and beautiful face and felt a peaceful settling inside her; a resolution had been made. She was going to do this. She was going to sleep with him. She wasn’t sure when she had decided. When she’d kissed him? When he’d told her he wanted her? When she’d come into the room?

She didn’t do stuff like this. Of course she didn’t. For the last five years her entire focus had been on Max—caring for him, providing for him, and suppressing all her hopes, dreams and needs. And maybe that was why she had decided, why she was lying on a sofa looking up at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, waiting for him to start seducing her. Because she’d lived for someone else for too long, and now, just for one night, she wanted to live for herself. For pleasure. For excitement. For this.

Antonio’s gaze roved over her. ‘You’re sure,’ he said slowly.

‘Yes.’ She swallowed, more of a gulp. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Good,’ he answered swiftly. ‘Because so am I.’

Her heart trembled as he knelt before her, his hands on her hips, anchoring her in place. She stared at him, feeling as pinned—and as beautiful—as a butterfly. Waiting.

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and her mind blissfully emptied out. This was what had happened the first time he’d kissed her, or rather, she’d kissed him. Barely a brush of lips and yet her senses, every single one, had short-circuited. She hadn’t been able to think. She had barely remembered to breathe. The touch of his mouth to hers had felt like a spark to her soul, lighting a fire within her. And when Antonio had taken control of their kiss it had become a complete conflagration. She was consumed.

And Maisie felt consumed now, in the best possible way, as his mouth moved over hers—and then lower. He kissed his way down her cheek and throat, his tongue touching the hard edge of her collarbone before nestling in the hollow of her throat, sucking and teasing. A shudder escaped her and she arched up, already helpless.

Antonio chuckled against her skin and then his mouth moved lower, to the edge of her blue T-shirt. ‘What are you wearing?’ he murmured and Maisie squirmed and blushed.

‘My cleaning uniform. It’s hideous, I know...’

‘Clearly you could inflame me wearing a bin bag,’ Antonio returned as his hands slid under the shapeless shirt. ‘But I think I’d like to see you wearing nothing at all.’

He slid her T-shirt over her head and tossed it across the room with a deliberately wolfish smile that would have made Maisie laugh if she didn’t feel so suddenly, unbearably exposed. She struggled not to cover herself; no one had seen her in just her bra. No one.

‘You are even lovelier than before,’ Antonio said softly. ‘There’s no need to be embarrassed.’

Maisie swallowed, not quite willing to admit that no one had ever seen her like this before. That Antonio Rossi, a virtual stranger, was the first. With his gaze steady he reached one hand out and cupped her breast, his palm warm through the thin cotton of her bra. Sparks of sensation radiated outward from his touch, fireworks fizzing inside her. Although she tried to hide her reaction, Antonio noticed and smiled.

‘Do you know how potent a woman’s reaction is to a man? How inflaming?’

‘But you’re still dressed,’ Maisie protested. She wanted him to touch her more; she wanted to touch him. She just had no idea how to go about it.

‘That is something that can be easily remedied.’ He lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt and then paused, one eyebrow arched. ‘Perhaps you will do it for me?’

‘Oh...’ She hadn’t expected a man like Antonio—powerful, privileged, and surely used to being in charge—to give her so much control. Want her to have it. ‘I...’

He shrugged, his expression one of wry amusement although there was a fierce light in his eyes. ‘They’re just buttons.’

Yes, they were just buttons, of course they were, and yet it was so much more. It was owning the reckless choice she’d made, and taking control of it. It was being bolder and more daring and more sexual than she’d ever been in her life.

Slowly Maisie raised herself up on one elbow and then, with fingers that trembled only a little, she started undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Every time she inhaled she breathed in the clean, woodsy scent of his aftershave; every time she managed to slip a button through its hole she glimpsed a tantalising bit of his chest, bronzed skin over sculpted muscle.

Antonio’s breath came out in a hiss between his teeth, and with a jolt Maisie realised how affected he was. How she affected him. He must have seen her surprised expression, for he laughed softly and said, ‘I’ve told you how you make me feel, haven’t I? Now you can see the proof for yourself.’ The buttons undone, he reached for her hand and laid it flat against his bare chest, over the thudding of his heart, its hectic pace matching her own.

They remained that way for a long, suspended moment, connected by her hand on his heart, all of it feeling so wonderfully and excruciatingly intense. This was so intimate, and not simply because she no longer had a shirt on. She hadn’t expected it somehow, along with the physical pleasure, the overwhelming need. She felt an emotional connection with this man that had begun when she’d seen him looking so sad, and its natural continuation was here.

Maisie spread her fingers against his chest, revelling in the taut muscle, the satiny skin. Another breathless moment passed, and then she looked up at him, waiting, wanting—and everything changed.

It was as if a spark had suddenly caught the tinder, seeming to take them both by surprise. Antonio pulled her towards him, crushing her breasts against his chest as his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding. And Maisie answered that demand, wrapping her arms around his neck, driving her fingers through his hair as she offered herself to him utterly.

She fell back against the sofa, Antonio’s body pressing into hers, one powerful thigh sliding between her legs, creating an even deeper urgency.

He tore his mouth from hers and moved it lower, a shuddering gasp escaping her as her eyes fluttered closed and his lips nudged aside the thin cotton of her bra.

Her body arced off the sofa as he continued his soft and deft exploration, unclasping her bra so swiftly Maisie barely realised it had gone, and she was naked from the waist up. Her mind was blurred with sensation, fiery arrows of pleasure shooting through her as Antonio continued to explore her body with his lips and hands.

Her baggy trousers followed her shirt and bra, and then her underwear as well, so without even fully realising it was happening she was naked, and so was Antonio. She gazed up at him, his skin burnished in the dim light from the desk lamp, his chest taut and muscled and perfect.

Maisie trembled against the sofa, aware, even in her pleasure-dazed state, what a step she was taking. Enormous. Irrevocable.

Antonio must have sensed something of her feelings, for he paused, his hands braced on either side of her head, his breathing harsh and ragged.

‘Maisie...you are sure?’ She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. ‘Tell me,’ he urged. ‘Tell me to go on, or tell me to stop.’

She drew a deep breath into her lungs, her body splayed and open to his. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, and reached up to lace her fingers around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers. ‘I’m sure.’

Antonio needed no more encouragement. He kissed her hard on the mouth as his hips pressed against hers, and Maisie stiffened at the sudden and strange invasion of her body. He frowned slightly, and she wondered if he knew she’d never done this before. Did her inexperience show?

Antonio let out a groan as he slid fully inside her, and Maisie tried not to flinch, adjusting to the feeling of him. So this was sex. She thought she liked the foreplay a bit better.

Antonio lifted his head, his frown deepening as he looked at her. ‘Maisie...’

‘It’s all right.’ It suddenly felt important that he should not know she was—or had been—a virgin. That she’d chosen to give her virginity to a stranger she’d never see again. She arched up, drawing him more fully into her body, wrapping her legs around his hips.

Antonio began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts, and as she adjusted to the feel of him a flicker of pleasure began to grow. Maisie started to match his rhythm, and the flicker grew into flame, their bodies moving in union as the fire began to rage.

She lost all sense of time or place or comportment, both of them searching and straining for the height of the pleasure, until it burst like an explosion of flame, Maisie’s jagged cry renting the air before she fell back against the sofa, emotionally and physically spent.

Antonio rested his forehead against Maisie’s for a brief moment as he fought to hold on to his composure, half amazed that it was proving to be such a painful challenge.

Sex on an office sofa with a woman whose last name he didn’t know wasn’t a completely new experience. But this—with Maisie—felt different. It felt overwhelming.

He hadn’t expected the emotion. He didn’t do emotion, except on the anniversary of his brother’s death, and then he indulged in it only by himself, giving in to the grief he locked away all year in a single, torturous night. He never should have invited Maisie in on this night of all nights, never should have seduced her when he’d felt so raw and emotionally exposed.

He never should have cracked open the door to his tightly guarded heart, even just a sliver. But now he had and he couldn’t keep the flood of grief and sorrow from rushing through that sliver and drowning him.