The Unwanted Wife(40)

“And are happiness and contentment all you ever wanted from life?” she asked after giving his words some thought. He smiled.

“No. I want more than that. But it’s a good start.”

“What else do you want?” she asked.

“You,” he said without hesitation.

“You have me.”

“No, I don’t. Not the way you were before, back when we first married before I stupidly proceeded to trample your heart and ego into the ground.”

“I’ve changed since then, grown up. I won’t ever be the same woman I was back then.”

“Yes, you’ve changed—in so many wonderful ways—but you’ve also become more guarded. And I don’t blame you, I really don’t. But I want you to trust me again.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“No, I want you to trust me with your heart, Theresa. I want you to allow yourself to love me again. I won’t hurt you.”

“Why should I trust you that way again, Sandro?” she whispered, and he smiled before cupping her face and staring levelly into her eyes.

“Because I love you, Theresa.” The words staggered her. She should have expected them, should have known he would say them, but for some reason she hadn’t and now had no idea how to deal with them or how to process them, or worse, how to believe them.

He smiled bittersweetly.

“I know you don’t believe me yet,” he whispered. “But I’ll make it my life’s work to convince you.” He bent his head and kissed her gently, his lips moist, gentle, and sweet on hers. He raised his head much too quickly, and Theresa went up on her toes to prolong the contact.

“Sandro…” She didn’t know what to say, but he shook his head and smiled gently.

“It’s okay. I just wanted you to know.” He kissed her again, a little bit more urgently this time, and she could feel his erection straining against her stomach. It startled her because she hadn’t really felt him in so long. Her dormant hormones sprang to life in an instant, and she pushed closer to him, deliberately rubbing herself again his hard penis. He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth in clumsy desperation, and his lack of finesse made her even hungrier for him.

“The doctor gave me the all-clear for sex last week,” she reminded him, and he groaned at her urgent words.

“I didn’t tell you how I felt because I was trying to get you into bed.” His voice was thick with desire, and she smiled up into his flushed face.

“I know that, Sandro. Now hurry up and take me to bed, will you?” He shuddered and lifted her into his arms before carrying her out of the baby’s room, into hers next door.

He gently deposited her onto the bed and watched as she dragged the nightgown up over her head and tossed it aside, his dark eyes going slumberous with desire. Suddenly self-conscious, Theresa remembered that she’d gained weight and acquired some stretch marks during her pregnancy. She wasn’t the same slender, smooth-skinned woman he’d had sex with last. She lifted her hands to cover herself, but when Sandro swore reverently, she paused and looked at him. He couldn’t take his hot eyes off her; he looked like a starving man staring at a feast while wondering which dish to start with.

She watched in fascination, her shyness forgotten, as he fumbled with his boxers and kicked them aside. He was so hard it looked painful, and she could see how his heart was racing with every throb of his gorgeous penis.

“God,” he groaned slightly, his voice awed and a little disbelieving. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…you’re more beautiful than I remembered.” He stumbled to the bed and gathered her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. His usual finesse was gone; the hungry kiss was almost adolescently awkward with bumping noses and clashing teeth. But neither of them cared as they went at each other with a ferociousness that bordered on animalistic.

Theresa had one brief moment of lucidity, when she asked him to wear a condom. In the past, Sandro would have been infuriated by the request. This time he stumbled from the bed in a daze and made his way to the en suite, where they stocked a new box of condoms every six months, in case their guests needed any. He was back in seconds, box in hand, but was shaking so badly that the packaging defeated him.

“I can’t…” he growled in frustration, and she took the box from him with slightly steadier hands. She managed to extract a condom, tossed the box aside, and ripped open the foil package. She held up the little rubber circle with a questioning glance and his pupils dilated even further.

“You do it,” he urged huskily, and she smiled before, with agonizing slowness, rolling the condom down his length. She gave him one more stroke for good measure, but he arched himself away from her touch.

“Don’t…baby…I’m going to come.”

She lifted her hand to the nape of his neck and dragged him down for another urgent kiss. Without breaking the kiss, Sandro flipped her onto her back and parted her thighs with his own. Despite his obvious desperation, he entered her slowly and with infinite gentleness.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked against her mouth, and she murmured a negative, pushing back up into him, to make it clear that she wanted more of him inside of her. It was all the invitation that Sandro needed before he sheathed himself completely. They both groaned, and he tilted his head back, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Oh God…Theresa…so long! It’s been so long,” he whispered. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.” He began to move, and she gasped at the feeling of fullness inside of her. He knew her body very well and shifted his position slightly until every stroke hit her in exactly the right spot. It didn’t last long—barely five minutes—and for the first time in their marriage, Sandro lost all control and came before she did. Theresa watched his face contort, as his body clenched and his back arched. A desperate sound was ripped from his throat as he tried to hold back and couldn’t. Theresa followed seconds later, his orgasm triggering hers. She clenched around him, squeezing him tightly and prolonging his pleasure as she took her own.

For a few moments they both hung suspended in stasis after their powerful mutual orgasms, and time seemed to freeze until Sandro collapsed onto the bed beside her moments later, breathing heavily as he gathered her into his arms.

“Theresa, love of my life,” he whispered into her hair, as they fought to catch their breath, and Theresa smiled before snuggling into his chest with a contented moan and falling asleep in his strong arms.





CHAPTER TWELVE

It was three weeks later and Theresa headed down to the kitchen for breakfast and found her husband already seated at the table, newspaper in hand. He’d already dressed Lily and had her little baby carrier placed on the table in front of him. Lily was asleep and Sandro was so absorbed in his paper that he didn’t notice her at first. It was Phumsile’s day off, so he’d fixed himself a bowl of cereal, toast, and some coffee. She smiled at the sight of them, her heart overflowing with love for them both.

“Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully as she headed over to the breakfast nook. She dropped a kiss on the baby’s cheek and then, after the briefest of hesitations, one on her husband’s lean cheek. While Sandro was a lot more affectionate these days, she still felt a certain reserve around him, not sure if she could touch and kiss him as freely as he did her. She knew she was being silly, but she seemed unable to overcome her emotional barriers. He told her he loved her every day, but she still couldn’t quite bring herself to believe him. She often cynically caught herself wondering if he meant the words or merely said them because he thought they were what she wanted to hear. She didn’t understand herself, on the surface it looked like she had everything she’d ever wanted but she still didn’t quite believe it was real.

“Good morning.” He smiled up at her and put his newspaper aside as she got herself some cereal and sat down opposite him. He did that all the time now. She seemed to have his undivided attention: the business section was set aside, the television switched off, phone calls terminated, and stock reports carelessly tossed away whenever she walked into a room. He wanted to know how she was feeling, how her day was going, what her plans were. They talked all the time, they spent companionable evenings together, and he was a hands-on father. They’d had a quiet family Christmas and had both delighted in buying hugely impractical toys for Lily, things that she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. Sandro had surprised her with an emerald pendant and earrings, and she’d given him a silver Montblanc pen with Lily’s and her names engraved on it. Their New Year had been equally quiet as they’d invited only Rick, Lisa, and Rick’s brother over for a poolside barbecue. They made love every night and he worshipped her body during those long, dark hours. They had a great life. So why couldn’t she trust him?

She knew that her reserve was frustrating Sandro…hell, it was frustrating her, but she needed something more. She just didn’t know what.

“I thought I’d let you sleep in,” he was saying as he sipped his coffee. “Between Lily’s and my demands last night, you didn’t get much sleep.” She blushed and averted her eyes to her cereal.