Sicilian's Baby Of Shame

Sophie gave him a quizzical look, because she really couldn’t imagine declining dinner with him, but Bastiano read her frown as curiosity.

‘I think she had worked out it wasn’t just dinner.’ He saw her cheeks darken in a blush and he further clarified that it had not been sex he was after. Bastiano had no trouble at all finding that. ‘Like your fiancé, I had got it into my head that maybe it was time to settle down.’

Though his main reason had been simply to beat Raul to it.

Bastiano had everything money could buy and so too did Raul. The only thing neither had was a family.

He had decided that he would be first.

It had been as simple as that.

‘Had you been going out with each other for long?’ Sophie asked.

‘We’d never been out.’ Bastiano yawned and it really was a relief not to have to explain that romance and love were not always prerequisites for marriage back home. ‘It just seemed like a good idea at the time, though not so much now.’ He shrugged. ‘Easy come, easy go. On reflection, I think I’m far more suited to the single life.’

‘Well, with your looks and...’ she looked around the lavish suite and stated the obvious ‘...your money, why not have fun?’

‘Oh, I do,’ Bastiano said.

Though lately he wouldn’t describe it as fun.

He lay back on the pillow, but as their eyes met the silence was heavy. She wore no make-up, not a scrap, Bastiano noted as he took in her dark lashes. He felt her gaze move to his mouth and for once he was unsure where they were going, for usually when a woman was on his bed there was no question as to what was about to happen.

Come here, he wanted to say.

Sophie knew that.

Her perfect storm had now gathered and it would be so terribly easy to be swept into it, but she really was no Inga, even if he perhaps thought of her as such.

There was a reason the maids were told not to accept gifts.

Yet there was no air of expectancy from Bastiano.

Sophie felt no pressure as she put down her cutlery, took a drink of water and then stood.

She gave him a polite smile and effortlessly she was back to being a maid. She put her plate neatly back on the trolley.

‘Thank you,’ Sophie said. ‘That was delicious.’

‘You’re more than welcome,’ Bastiano said. ‘So were the pastries.’

She came over to collect his plate.

It rested on his thigh and, though covered by the sheet, Sophie thought it was better that he be the one to retrieve it for she could see a black snake of hair on his stomach—as much as she tried not to look. There was desire pitted low in her stomach and an itch to pull the sheet down. Her hands shook a little and just like that she was no longer a maid. Their fingers met for a little too long and rather than pull back she lingered for his skin was warm and even that slight touch had her aching for more.

‘I have to go,’ she said as she fought for control.

‘Of course.’

Yet still she stood there and instead of turning away she put the plate down on the bedside table. She was not so much uncertain, more nervous of her own curiosity.

‘Thank you,’ she said again.

Bastiano could not read her, for he could feel her desire and yet sense her reticence so he moved things along a fraction. His index finger came up and he tapped it twice on the cheek nearest to her, the one that was not scarred.

A kiss to the cheek was still okay, Sophie thought, for she would kiss her friend Gabi on the cheek when they said farewell after sharing a meal. But even as she tried to convince herself, Sophie knew that this situation was nowhere near as innocent as that.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. It was more that she might as well have been standing on a conveyer belt, for it was as if she glided towards him.

She bent forward and moved her mouth to where his finger had tapped, the place where his rough morning shadow transitioned into smooth skin. The contrast sent shivers down her spine. The warmth of him on her lips was enticing and her tongue fought not to taste as her lips lingered.

Sophie sensed him holding his breath and hers now came a little too fast in response. She pulled her head back and moved to kiss the other cheek.

Bastiano jerked his head a little, for he did not like anyone touching his scar. He would by far prefer her mouth to meet his and usually he got what he wanted.

Not this time.

She misread the small signal and her mouth moved to his other cheek. Once on his scar, her lips lingered there, kissing him softly as if she didn’t care about the damage beneath.

CHAPTER THREE (#ufed0e5e5-fc5c-5caf-9f6b-405f0226ff20)

THERE WAS A gap between their chests, but so in tune was Sophie with his every move that she felt as if their bodies touched.

It was time to stay or go, Sophie knew. Even at this stage she could smooth it over and make her farewells.

Or she could meet those lips and discover bliss.

With Luigi, she had dreaded a kiss, let alone sex.

Not now.

When she had left home at twenty-three, Sophie had been considered a disgrace for her failure to commit.

She was twenty-four now and there was no disgrace to be had here.

It was better than her dreams. And so much better than the reality she had run from.

‘Come here,’ he moaned, and his hand came up and pulled her head down onto his.

Always she had avoided such contact, yet now she craved it.

His mouth was soft, and the dark shadow of his skin did not make her skin crawl with its tickle; instead, it was rough and delicious and matched the building desire in her.

Now, instead of resisting, she opened her lips, wanting and willing.

His tongue felt like a reward as it coiled around hers, and then he slowly suckled the tip. They tasted each other, and they inflamed each other and not just with their mouths. He was stroking her breast through the fabric of her dress. His thumb was teasing her nipple and Sophie ached for bed.

His bed.