Rising Stars. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I thought they were your friends!”
His lip twisted. “Friends?”
“You seemed to be having such a good time …”
“I grew up with them,” he said tersely. “But we’re not close. We share a past. We share a history. But no. They are not my friends.”
Staring up at him, Lilley thought of the friends she’d had in Minnesota growing up, playing marbles with the housekeeper’s daughter Lisa, going for long bike rides with Katie from school, ice skating on the pond with her friends and drinking hot chocolate.
Alessandro hadn’t had that. His friends weren’t real. Pity and grief for him welled up inside her. And suddenly she couldn’t hide her feelings. Not any more.
“I don’t need revenge.” Blinking back tears, she took a step towards him. “There’s only one thing I want. One thing I need.”
His jaw twitched. “What?”
“You,” she whispered. “I love you, Alessandro.”
She heard the catch of his breath. Then his eyes became wistful.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve known since before our wedding, when you almost blurted it out, and I stopped you.”
“What?” She didn’t remember anything like that. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you remember? You said you had something to tell me before we could marry. I stopped you because I already knew. You were in love with me. I could see your feelings on your face.”
Lilley’s lips parted as she remembered the moment in Las Vegas when she’d tried to tell him the truth about her family. “That was what you thought I was going to say?” she said slowly. “That I was in love with you?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t let you speak the words. I thought it would ruin things between us, that it would make a good marriage impossible.”
He didn’t know. Lilley’s head was spinning. Alessandro didn’t know about her family. All these weeks they’d been married, she’d thought he was so kind not to reproach her, so generous to forgive and forget. But he hadn’t known. He still didn’t know!
“But now,” Alessandro said in a low voice, “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I can love anyone, Lilley.” Clenching his jaw, he looked away. “When I was nineteen, I was betrayed by everyone who loved me. The woman I thought I loved told me she was pregnant by another man. My father died after ignoring me most of his life. And then my mother,” he took a deep breath, “informed me that I was not his son.”
“What?” Lilley gasped.
“By their second year of marriage, she’d already grown to hate him. She had a brief affair, and got pregnant with me. My father never knew. He died thinking I was his son, and still left me nothing but debts and an unknown number of half-brothers and half-sisters around the world.”
Grief was shining in his black eyes. She’d never seen him so open with his feelings before. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, wrapping her arms around him. “Who is your real father?”
He looked away. “Not someone I ever wanted to know.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed again, but it seemed woefully inadequate. Reaching up, she kissed his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his shoulders. She offered comfort by kissing every part of him she could reach. “I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed unchecked down her face as their eyes met. “But I’m your family now.”
He exhaled as he looked down at her. “I don’t know if I can love you, Lilley,” he said in a low voice. His dark eyes shimmered. “But if I could ever love any woman on earth … it would be you.”
Lilley’s heart stopped beating, then suddenly raced at a gallop. “It would?”
“You’re the first woman I’ve trusted in a long, long time,” he said softly, stroking her cheek. “Because I know you’d never lie to me—about anything.”
A tremble went through her. How could she ever tell him about her family now? How could she possibly explain what had started as a fib of omission to help her get a job, but had turned into months of lying straight to his face?
Honey, she could say casually over waffles some Sunday, a funny thing about how you thought my father owned a shop. He does own a store, but a few more than one! Maybe they’d have a good laugh. Maybe he’d forgive her.
But then she’d have to tell him about Théo.
She had to tell him. Before he found out some other way. And she would, she promised herself. Once their marriage was on stronger footing. Once his friends didn’t hate her. Then she would tell him everything. She would. Even though it would make him hate her.
She trembled just to think of it ….
“I’m sorry I never gave you the wedding you deserved,” Alessandro said, stroking her cheek.
She gasped. “I loved our wedding!”
He shook his head ruefully. “You should have had friends at the ceremony. Family.” He looked at her. “Have you told your father about me yet?”
Her father. She swallowed. “Um. No. Not yet.” Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to add, “But I will take you to Minnesota to meet him. Anytime you like.”
“How about Christmas?” Holding her in his arms, he smiled down at her, the expression on his handsome face tender and bright. “We’ll have a wedding reception in Rome first. Then plan one there.”
“A reception?”
“Two. One on each continent. I want to properly celebrate.” He stroked her hair. “With our family and friends.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“It’ll give your father a chance to know me.” He gave her a sudden wink. “I’ll win him over.”
His charm and thoughtfulness just made her feel more guilty. “Of course you will,” she said over the lump in her throat. “No one could help loving you.”
His expression grew serious. “But I don’t need anyone to love me.” He pulled her against his naked body, stroking her back over her beige jacket. “I only need you.”
Lilley suddenly felt like crying. She felt his naked body stir, and her own immediate response flooded her with need. She shivered as his hands gently caressed her breasts over the fabric, squeezing her plump flesh with his fingers, rubbing her swollen nipples until they were hard and aching beneath her jacket.
Her gaze fell on the bathroom mirrors and she saw their image, his naked body and muscular backside, as his lips lowered to her neck. The image caused a wave of immediate pleasure as he unbuttoned her jacket.
“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin. She felt him hard between her legs, felt the gentle, insistent stroke of his fingertips as he pulled off her silk camisole and bra, running his palm down the valley between her pregnant breasts to her small waist and softly rounded belly. “Say it.”
She opened her eyes. “I’m yours.”
“Forever,” he demanded.
She swallowed. “Forever.”
Alessandro fell to his knees in front of her. Lifting her skirt to her hips, he yanked her panties to the floor. Moving his head between her thighs, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.
Her hands gripped his naked, hard-muscled shoulders as she felt his hot breath between her thighs. Then, the last moment before he kissed her, he lifted his head to look at her face.
“Never lie to me, Lilley,” he whispered. “And we’ll last forever.