The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty(73)

                She nodded and gave a half-smile. Her legs and torso were no longer tensed; indeed, her entire body had now relaxed.

                ‘What do you think about Charlotte for a girl?’ she said.

                He looked up briefly, his lips pursing the way they always did when he was considering something. They’d already agreed on Pietro for a boy, in honour of Pepe’s father. Choosing a girl’s name had proved trickier. At first she’d thought he was being deliberately awkward when he dismissed the names she kept coming up with...until the penny dropped that he was, in his own subtle fashion, trying to avoid naming their child after any of his ex-lovers. Not all the names, thank God. A few he dismissed for other reasons, like thinking a particular name was ‘wet’.

                She’d now taken to throwing a name at him, watching him purse his lips and then shake his head, all the while hoping she never came across one of his ‘friends’ who shared that particular name.

                This time, there was no shake of the head. Instead, a broad grin spread across his handsome face. ‘That is perfect.’ He nodded, still grinning. ‘Charlotte Mastrangelo-Delaney. Sì—perfect.’

                When he refocused his attention to his current handiwork, Cara tried to shake away the jealousy coursing through her blood, knowing she was being irrational. So what if Pepe had been prepared to marry Luisa so they and their child could all share the same surname? In those days he’d been little older than a child himself with romantic ideals that had no place in the real world.

                Cara and Pepe had reached the perfect compromise when it came to naming their child, both reasoning that it wasn’t his baby, or her baby, but their baby, and therefore should share both their names.

                At least he was capable of compromise. Most of the time. He still had an unerring ability to get his own way on most things. Like now.

                Before much more time elapsed, he leaned back and flashed a grin. ‘See—that wasn’t too bad, was it?’

                ‘It was fine.’

                ‘Stay where you are—I need to get some fresh water to clean you up.’

                She watched him stride off to the en suite, not in the least bothered about his nudity, with a lump in her throat. No wonder so many artists clamoured to immortalise him in whatever medium they used. Pepe’s strength and poise, mixed with his underlying good humour, were like nectar to a bee.

                He returned with a fresh jug of water and a towel.

                This time he didn’t have to ask her to part her legs.

                ‘Have you done this lots of times?’ she asked, then immediately castigated herself. His answer had the potential to lance her.

                His eyes met hers, glittering with something she didn’t recognise. ‘Never.’

                Her heart hitched.

                For long moments neither moved. She wished she could read what was swirling in his eyes, but before she could catch it, he broke the hold.

                Bowing his head, he placed a kiss on the area he’d just shaved. Then another kiss. And another.

                His movements were so gentle and...reverential, that as he made his way to the very heart of her she forgot to feel embarrassed, lying back to rest her head on the back of the sofa and simply feel.

                Pepe was such a wonderful lover, she thought dreamily. So tender yet so fantastically wild, and always wanting her. She remembered how he’d arrived back from an overnight stay in Germany. Within five minutes of getting home he’d had her bent over on the desk in his study. She’d been so desperate for him too that they’d been like a pair of rutting animals.