The Unwanted Wife(30)

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” she said, and he sighed, the sound so long-suffering that Theresa’s hackles rose.

“Of course not but you are going to sleep with me,” he informed her, his voice filled with grim purpose. “So you might as well relax.” She said nothing, merely remaining tensed up like a coiled spring beside him. The hand he had resting at her waist began sweeping lazily up and down her side, while he brought his other arm around to lay his large hand low on her abdomen, where the baby rested. She tensed even further but he did nothing more threatening than pet and stroke her gently. Gradually she began to relax, allowing her thoughts to drift slightly.

“Have you thought of names for the baby yet?” he asked after nearly half an hour of increasingly comfortable silence, and Theresa was so relaxed by that time that she couldn’t even summon up any outrage at what she considered to be a forbidden topic.

“Hmmm…” she moaned, inhaling his warm, clean scent with visible pleasure. “I like the names Kieran and Ethan. Liam maybe, but I’m leaning toward Alex…” Her voice trailed off awkwardly as she realized what she had revealed and hoped that he wouldn’t notice. But this was Sandro and he was sharper than the proverbial tack.

“Alex?” he observed casually. “Alexander?”

Stupid, stupid fool! She berated herself angrily. How could she have revealed that she was leaning toward naming her son after him? He said nothing further on the subject, and she relaxed after a few tense minutes.

“What about girl names?” he asked. “You haven’t thought of any?” Of course she hadn’t thought of any. She was having a boy. She refused to answer his question.

“I like the name Lily,” he murmured, his voice almost dreamy as he continued to gently stroke the slight mound of her abdomen. “Or Sofia…Lily would have black hair like mine but beautiful green eyes like yours, but I think a Sofia should have red hair and brown eyes, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for her response, merely continued on in that same dreamy voice. “Lily would be a sweet child, but Sofia, she’s temperamental. She likes to throw things…”

“Stop it,” she hissed. “There will be no Lily or Sofia! There will be a Liam or an Ethan, maybe a Kieran or an Alex, and he will have red hair and green eyes. He will be a sweet and lovable child.” He didn’t comment, merely kept up the soothing, nonthreatening movements of his large, strong hands. A while afterward, the lazy stroking slowed down, before stopping completely and his hands became heavy on her body. He slumped heavily against her and a soft snore confirmed that he had fallen asleep. Theresa sighed quietly before allowing herself to drift off as well.




The natural light in the room had a warm orange glow to it when she woke up later and she saw it was just after dusk, meaning that she had slept for nearly five hours. She sighed lazily, feeling remarkably warm and comfortable with her head cushioned on Sandro’s hard chest and her neck supported by his upper arm. That same arm was curled around her shoulders with his big hand snuggled just under her right breast. One of her hands was tucked under her cheek and the other was…she tensed abruptly when she discovered where her audacious hand had come to rest. It was cupped over the firm bulge of his crotch. A bulge that was rapidly swelling and hardening beneath her palm.

“Don’t panic,” Sandro’s sleep-roughened voice growled. The deep tenor of his voice rumbled through the chest beneath her head. “Don’t…it’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing to me.” Her own voice was husky with sleep, and she amazed herself when, instead of following her first instinct and snatching her hand away from his crotch, she gently and almost tentatively, curled her hand around the thickening shaft of flesh.

“Madre de Dio, cara…” he choked out on a strangled voice. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, her small hand petting and stroking him in much the same way he had done to her earlier. Only this was a lot less innocent.

“Theresa.” His voice was strained. “Sweetheart, please if you keep doing that I don’t know…I don’t think…”

“Don’t think,” she purred, lifting her head from his chest to meet his pleading brown eyes. “That’s a good idea.”

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

Theresa didn’t really know the answer to that, only she had missed having him in her bed, in her arms, and in her body the last few months. Logically, she knew that her raging hormones had a great deal to do with her unwanted urges, but she also knew that a large part of it could be attributed to her annoyingly undying love and desire for him.

“Theresa, I don’t think this is what the doctor had in mind when he recommended bed rest and you don’t really want this…” he muttered, reaching down to drag her hand away from his straining, fully erect length.

“I do,” she protested, trying to pull her hand free from his strong grip.

“No…you’re…I don’t know…your hormones are out of control because of the pregnancy, that’s why you feel like this.” His voice trailed off when one of her slender thighs moved up to where her hand had just been. He moaned helplessly when she applied slight pressure and relaxed his hold on her. That was all she needed, and she was straddling him before either of them realized her intention. Suddenly her warm feminine mound was grinding up against him and both of them were groaning. Theresa watched as his head tilted back on the pillow and smiled in catlike satisfaction when his hands dropped to her thighs to drag her even closer. She braced her hands on his broad chest in order to maintain her balance and continued to sensuously rub herself against him.

“I think you may be right,” she eventually gasped. “About the hormones…I want you but I don’t want to want you.” Her frustration with herself and the situation were clouding her clear green eyes, and his eyes went stormy with some kind of ruthlessly repressed emotion.

“Sssh…sweetheart…I read that pregnant women sometimes, well, most times, get really…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right word, his mind obviously not on what he was saying as sweat started to bead his brow and his eyes took on a glazed, faraway look.

“Horny?” she supplied, and she sensed the utter shock in his absolute stillness. She had never used the word before, even though he had on numerous occasions.

“Yes…” he said, after clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Because I am,” she reiterated, enjoying his discomfiture immensely as she continued to move sensuously against him. His hips were starting to strain upward slightly with each lazy movement she made, and she relished the absolute power she had over him.

“You said that there would be no sex,” he reminded her desperately, his breathing becoming more labored. “And I don’t think we can have sex while you’re on bed rest.”

“But maybe we can fool around a bit?” She smiled down into her husband’s shocked face, feeling like the cat that had stolen the cream. He lifted one of his arms and covered his eyes, biting back a cry of pleasured anguish as she exerted more pressure right where it counted. He lifted his arm from his face, and his fevered eyes bored into hers. His face was taut with the control he was exerting over himself, the harsh planes standing out in sharp relief beneath his tanned skin. He reached up and tangled his large hands in her tousled red hair, tugging her toward him until their lips were a breath apart, but Theresa smiled serenely down into his strained face and pushed her hands onto his heaving chest to force some distance between them. He reluctantly let her go, relinquishing the opportunity to use his larger size and superior strength against her, obviously content, for now, to let her control events.

“Theresa, please,” he begged. “Give me your mouth. I need to taste you…per favore.”

“No lips.” She shook her head. “This isn’t…” She hesitated, and his eyes flared and his body went still beneath her, taut with tension.

“Isn’t what?” he demanded. “Isn’t what, Theresa?”

“Personal…” she completed in a whisper, and was shocked and dismayed when she saw a flash of hurt in his usually unreadable eyes.

“This feels pretty damned personal to me, cara,” he hissed.

“I just…need you,” she half sobbed, and he shook his head, grabbing her narrow hips between his large hands.

“Not me.” He shook his head, keeping her hips steady as he ground himself against her. She shuddered in involuntary pleasure. “This!”

“Yes,” she cried out, pushing herself against him. “Please…”

“I won’t let you use me like that, Theresa.” His voice was so brittle it cracked.

“Why not?” she keened, tears of frustration, anger, and heartbreak sliding down her cheeks. “You used me in exactly the same way, and you kept it impersonal too. No kissing, no cuddling, no intimacy, no talking, no warmth…nothing! You stripped the act of everything but the bare essentials, and right now, that’s all I want from you.”