Yes. Touch me.

She sweeps her fingers and palms over my skin. Feeling me. Through my chest hair and over my nipples, which pucker in delight.

“Ah,” I breathe.

She bites her lower lip, stifling her wanton, victorious smile.

“That’s right, beautiful, I love your touch.”

I love you.

She leans down and kisses me. “I like touching you,” she says softly. Shyly. And my cock strains for more.

“Take me,” I murmur.

She pauses, not understanding, and I lift my hips to give her a clue. Alessia cries out, and it’s a loud, guttural sound of pleasure that almost pushes me over the edge. She splays her hands on my chest, trying to keep her balance. I grasp her hips. “Move. Like this,” I hiss through my teeth. I ease her up and back down. And she gasps, but, placing her hands on my arms, she rises up and back down.

“That’s it.” I close my eyes and enjoy the sensual feel of her.

“Ah,” she calls out.

Shit.

Make this last.

She moves. Slowly and hesitantly at first. But as her confidence builds, she finds her rhythm. I open my eyes as she rises once more, and this time I flex my hips, meeting her. Her cry is visceral and wakes every sense in my body.

Fuck. I grab her hips, moving her faster and faster. She’s panting. Short, sharp gasps for air. Gripping my arms. Her head lolling from side to side with each thrust of mine.

Head tipped back. Calling to the gods, she’s every inch a goddess. Her hold on my arms tightens, and she cries out and stills on top of me as she comes.

It’s enough to trigger my release, and I cry out, holding her to me as I come and come and come.

* * *

Alessia lies in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Maxim has his head on her stomach, his arms around her, as she runs her fingers idly through his hair. She loves the feel of his hair beneath her fingers. Her mother never gave any indication that the sexual act could be so pleasurable. Perhaps that is not the relationship she has with Baba. Alessia frowns. She doesn’t want to think about her parents having sex, but her mind wanders, and she remembers her grandmother, Virginia. Now, she married for love. They were happy. Even when they were older, her grandparents would exchange looks that made Alessia blush. Her nana’s was a marriage that she hoped to emulate. Not her parents’ marriage. They were never demonstrative with each other.

Maxim never hesitates to hold her hand or kiss her in public. And he talks to her. When has she ever sat for an evening and had a proper conversation with a man? Where she comes from, if a man talks to a woman for any length of time, it is considered by some to be a sign of weakness.

She glances at the little light-up dragon on the nightstand, a beacon in the darkness. He bought this for her because he knows she’s scared of the dark. He brought her here to protect her. He cooked for her. He bought her clothes. He made love to her….

Tears prick the corners of her eyes, and her heart overflows with uncertainty and longing, burning her throat with unspoken emotion. She loves him. Her fingers tighten in his hair as she’s overwhelmed by her feelings for him. He wasn’t angry with her when she told him she was betrothed. If anything, he was anxious that her heart might belong to another.

No. My heart is yours, Maxim.

And he was shocked that she thought he might beat her. Her hand goes automatically and instinctively to her cheek; her father is less of a talker, more of a man of action….

She runs her fingers over Maxim’s shoulder and traces the outline of his tattoo. She wants to know him better. Perhaps she should ask him more questions. He is evasive about his job. Maybe he has many? She shakes her head. It is not her place to question him. What would her mother say if she did? For now she will enjoy the little bubble that they share together in Cornwall.

Maxim nuzzles her belly and kisses it, distracting Alessia from her unsettling thoughts of home. He looks up at her, his eyes a vibrant emerald in the soft glow from the little dragon. “Stay with me,” he says.

She smooths his hair off his forehead and frowns. “I am staying with you.”

“Good,” he says, and he kisses her belly again, but his time his mouth moves lower…and lower.

* * *

I open my eyes as early-morning light seeps through the gaps in the blinds. I’m wrapped around Alessia. My head on her chest, my arm around her waist. The warmth and sweet smell of her skin invades my senses, and my body rises to greet her. Gently I nuzzle her neck, leaving drowsy kisses at her throat.

She rouses, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Good morning, princess,” I whisper.

She smiles, a sleepy, sated look on her face. “Good morning…Maxim.” Her tone is tender, and I think I hear her love in the way she says my name. Or maybe I’m imagining it because I want to hear it.

There. I want her love.

All of it.

I’m prepared to admit it to myself.

But can I admit it to her?

The whole day extends before us, open and free—and I’m with her. “Let’s spend the day in bed.” My voice is husky with sleep.

Her fingers skim my chin. “Are you tired?”

I grin. “No…”

“Oh,” she says, and her smile mirrors mine.

* * *

His tongue. His mouth. What he does to her. Alessia is lost in a storm of sensation. Her hands tighten on his wrists as she hangs on a precipice. She’s close. So close. He teases her again and again with his able tongue and gradually eases a finger inside her, and she falls, her orgasm ripping through her as she cries out.

Maxim kisses her belly, her breasts, as he inches up her body and stills above her.

“That is a fantastic sound,” he whispers, and he rolls on a condom and oh, so slowly sinks into her.

* * *

When I return from the bathroom, her side of the bed is empty.

Oh.

The disappointment is real. I’m ready for more. I don’t ever think I’ll have enough of Alessia.

Judging by the gray light seeping into the room, it must be midmorning. And it’s raining. I raise the blinds, and then I hear her, so I scramble back into bed. Crockery rattling, she enters the bedroom. She’s wearing my pajama top and carrying breakfast on a tray. “Good morning again,” she says with a radiant smile, her hair flowing down over her shoulders.

“Well, hello, coffee!” The aroma is mouthwatering. I love proper coffee. I sit up, and she places the tray on my lap. Eggs. Coffee. Toast. “This is a treat.”

“You said you wanted to stay in bed.” She climbs in beside me and steals a piece of buttered toast.

“Here.” I scoop up some scrambled eggs on a fork and offer it to her. She opens her mouth, and I feed her.

“Mmm…” she says, and closes her eyes in appreciation.

My dick rouses at the sight.

Steady. Let’s eat first.

The eggs are amazing. She’s added feta cheese, I think.

“This is heaven on a plate, Alessia!”

Her cheeks pink, and she takes a sip of coffee.

“I wanted to play some music.”

“On the piano?”

“No—I mean, to listen.”

“Oh. You need a phone. Here.” I reach over and grab my iPhone.

I really must get her a phone.

“This is the code.” I punch in my security code to unlock it. “And I use this app. Sonos. You can have music anywhere in the house.” I hand it to her.

She starts flicking through the app. “You have so much music.”

“I like music.”

She shoots me a quick smile. “Me, too.”

I take a sip of coffee.

Ugh!

“How much sugar did you put in this?” I splutter.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forget you don’t have the sugar.” And she screws up her face, and I think it’s because she cannot contemplate coffee without sugar.

“Is this how you drink it?”

“In Albania? Yes.”

“I’m amazed you have any teeth left.”

She grins, showing me she has perfect teeth. “I have never tried coffee without sugar. I will make you some more.” She hops out of bed, all long naked legs and flowing raven hair.

“It’s okay. Don’t go.”

“I want to.” And she disappears once more, taking my phone with her. A few moments later, I hear Dua Lipa singing “One Kiss” over the sound system downstairs. Alessia doesn’t just like classical music. I smile….I think the artist is Albanian, too.

* * *