The Italian's Pregnant Prisoner

For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t quite work out why that would be a bad thing. “Okay,” she said, her voice thick.

With a firm hand, Rafe led her into the building, and the two of them walked across the small gilded space to an elevator with golden doors. They swung open, and she followed him in, having to take two steps to his one.

Clearly, this was his domain. There was no hesitation in any of his movements. The only indication that he wasn’t able to visualize his surroundings in the quick sweep of his cane across the floor.

Suddenly, her breath was coming harder, faster. She hadn’t seen this man in five years. It had taken two weeks of physical intimacy to build up five years’ worth of fantasies. And now she was here. Now she was here, but he wasn’t her Rafe anymore. Wasn’t a man in indentured servitude to her father, but one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. A man with billions of dollars. A man newspapers wrote of in hyperbolic phrasing. A man that women spoke of with awed reverence.

That thought sent a kick straight to her gut. She wondered how many women he’d been with since their time in her tower. How many women he’d touched. Kissed. Been inside.

Of course, she had never truly had him. So it seemed silly to worry about who else might have.

Well, you’ll have him tonight. And those other women won’t matter. This isn’t about them. This is about you. It’s for you. It’s not for anyone else.

Yes, she had been stagnant for so long, and she was done with it.

Tonight, she would have Rafe, and she wouldn’t concern herself with the consequences.

Before she was prepared, the lift reached its destination and the doors slid open. They were here.

They hadn’t even kissed. In five years, they hadn’t kissed. She had said yes to this because of a mere touch. Because of his firm, warm hold on her throat.

She couldn’t go back now. She wasn’t even certain that she wanted to.

He took her hand and led her inside, and she followed.

The loft was Spartan. Wide swaths of floor left blank, furniture pushed more or less against the walls.

He took his jacket off and hung it on a peg, and then placed his cane in a holder by the door. He straightened, his focus on the black space before them.

“My circumstances have changed quite a bit,” he remarked, gesturing to the space around them.

“Your circumstances never mattered to me.” She examined him, the hard set of his jaw, that cold, closed-off expression on his face. Tension radiated from that big, strong body in waves. She wanted to touch him. Wanted to move away from him, as well. He was frightening. Compelling and magnetic. All at the same time.

Finally, he spoke. “My circumstances mattered a great deal to me.”

“Of course they did,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean...”

“I do not want your apologies, Charlotte. This is not an evening for recrimination. Not now. You and I should’ve both forgotten about a youthful dalliance a long time ago. Clearly, we did not. So, there is business yet to be finished between us. And I, for one, need to see it done.”

After that, there was no waiting. He reached out, and she went to him. Then, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her up against his hard, muscular body.

He took hold of her chin, as he had done back at the party. Only this time, he didn’t stop. This time, there was no slow, careful examination. There was no hesitation at all.

His lips crashed down on hers, unerring, his tongue parting her, delving deep into her mouth, slick and hot, and somehow even more than she had remembered.

He had been her first kiss. Her only kiss.

She had never let a man get so close to her since then. She had known that that way contained only heartbreak, and she had no desire to experience heartbreak again. Not when everything in her life was still in such peril. When it was still dangerous to breathe in too deeply, much less forge any kind of true emotional bond with somebody.

And it had never seemed...it had never seemed right to pursue a purely physical relationship. Perhaps because of the intensity of what she had felt for Rafe. She wasn’t sure. Either way, the idea had never really appealed to her.

Except, that was what she was doing now. With him. There had been no promises made, and she wouldn’t ask him for any.

This was about creating a new life. The life that she wanted, on her own terms, and free of her father’s influence. She supposed that meant being free of Rafe’s influence, as well.

And after tonight, she would be. At least, that was the hope.

But this kiss didn’t taste like freedom. It tasted like deep, crushing need. Like willing bondage. Like she was committing herself to him again with each pass of her tongue against his.

But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t. If she was going to take this night, then she had to be committed to her plan. To her freedom.

Freedom was the one thing she’d never had. Her life on her own terms. She couldn’t steal it from herself. Not before she had ever had a chance to hold it in her hands.

But she had never had a chance to hold him either. And now it seemed imperative. Necessary. Like the thing she needed more than air...

He bit her bottom lip and desire arrowed down straight to her stomach, down farther between her legs. She remembered this. It had rested in the back of her mind, a half-faded memory for five years. But now it was back. Bright, sharp and clear.

This thing that she had felt only ever with him. This thing that was like a wild, untamed beast inside of her. The only thing that ever was. The only thing that ever had been.

She had been hidden away, kept apart from the world on the estate, locked away from the world in a tower. And the only wild, untamed thing in her had always been for him.

It was astonishing how true that was now. How quickly she was transported back to that time. To her bedroom. When the only good and wonderful thing in her life had been Rafe. He had been worth everything. Worth risks she knew both of them took great pains not to dwell on.

They had of course spoken of the need for them not to get caught. But it had been like children sneaking around. Rather than two people who were in very real danger should they ever be discovered.

But there was no one to discover them now. There was no danger. Those things that had made it feel all the more special, forbidden, were gone now. There were no walls. No one was in chains, so to speak. They were here of their own free will. Making this choice.

She was not the only available body that he might find pleasure in. She was not a trapped girl who had met no other men that appealed to her.

No, she hadn’t dated anyone but they just hadn’t called to her. Not in the way that Rafe did.

No one ever had. No one.

She reached up, ready to unpin her hair, which he had always liked. Something he had always asked of her.

He gripped her wrist. “No.”

“But—”

“There will be none of that. Leave it up.”

Those words scraped her raw. Left her wounded. She couldn’t quite fathom why. Except that maybe, no matter what he had said, he didn’t want to be so conscious that it was her. He couldn’t see her, after all. And asking her to keep her hair up was truly like asking her to stay shrouded in darkness.

She would have to decide, she supposed, if that wounded her enough to make her walk out.

No. It didn’t. Because this wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about her feelings. It certainly wasn’t about trying to recapture something that had happened between them long ago. This was a step forward. The closing of the door. She had to allow it to be that.

She had to allow it to be unique. Its own experience. And if he wanted to keep her hair up, then that was fine by her.