Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set Cara Colter (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📖

‘I see,’ she said slowly. ‘You think I’m the kind of girl you can seduce with delicious pizza, ice cream and a luxury hotel suite with incredible views?’ She twisted to look out at the lit-up city. ‘Fair play. I guess I am exactly that kind of girl.’

He smiled then, slow and sensuous, and her heart jolted.

‘Matteo, I want you to know that I didn’t want to lie to you. I wanted to tell you about our marriage straight away, not bring you here and pretend everything was okay. But the doctor said not to give you any sudden shocks and she seemed so worried about you. When she said you might have died…’ She could hear the tremble in her voice, felt her throat close with threatened tears. ‘I never did stop loving you; I hope you know that. Hearing how close you came to dying just made me realise how much. But love was never the issue, was it? Our lives are just so different; what we want is too different for us to be together.’

‘Maybe we’re a little bit wiser now? Charlie, losing you, receiving those damn divorce papers and knowing I was just six weeks away from setting you free made me re-evaluate everything. And then fate stepped in, gave me the chance to reset the clock, to live as if we were still fresh and new, reminded me why you’re the best thing that happened to me. It’s been a wake-up call. What do you think, Charlie? Is there any way that we can start again?’

How she wanted to say yes. How she wanted to lean into him, to kiss him until neither of them could think any more, to stagger through to one of the bedrooms entwined around him, kissing every step of the way, and to allow him to make love to her while she made love right back as if this really was the honeymoon he’d promised.

‘I don’t know, Matteo. I don’t want to allow myself to hope and then for nothing to change. I don’t know if I can go through being let down again.’

‘I can’t make you promises about what won’t happen; I can’t see into the future. But I can promise that I’ll do my best, Carlotta, cara.’

There was so much else to say, so much else to think about, but Charlie was tired. She was tired of grieving, she was tired of hurting, she was tired of lying. All she wanted to do was to feel and to love and be loved, for tonight, at least. Slowly she rose to her feet, drawing him up with her and stepping in close so their bodies touched and she fitted right in against him, just like she always had, as if they were made for each other.

‘I’m tired of talking, Matteo,’ she said. The expression in his hazel eyes was unfathomable as she reached up to cup his cheek. ‘I’m tired of talking and I’m tired of thinking. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, I don’t know if we have a future, but there’s now. We can live for now. Help me forget, Matteo.’

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stared at her with that unreadable expression. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’ Charlie raised herself onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. It wasn’t the most seductive, the most practised kiss, but her heart was in her lips and with it she expressed everything she didn’t have the words for. How much she wanted him, how much she desired him, how much she wished things had been different. How glad she was that he was here, standing next to her in this beautiful place, how all she wanted was for him to take her inside, strip her clothes from her and make her forget.

Matteo stayed stock-still for a second longer and then, with a muttered curse, he returned the kiss hard, covering her mouth with darkly sensuous intent and sweeping her up in his arms as if she were the petite dancer she’d wanted to be, not a five foot eight, long-legged woman. Still kissing her, he strode through the penthouse suite and into the master bedroom, where he laid her carefully on the bed as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen and stood back, looking at her in a slow appraising manner that sent ripples of need shuddering through her.

Slowly, intently, Matteo removed first one of her sandals then the other before running his hands up her bare legs, and she shivered beneath his touch.

‘Sit up,’ he commanded, his voice low and guttural, and slowly she obeyed, allowing him to unzip her dress, wriggling to help him slip it off her, until she sat there in just her bra and pants. Matteo stood back, surveying her again, silent as he swept his gaze down her body. She could feel the track of his eyes as if he were touching her, her flesh tingling where his gaze fell.

Nearly two months had passed since she’d left him; it had been two weeks before that when they’d last made love and that had been a sad, farewell lovemaking as if they’d known what lay ahead, slow and sweet, not like this dark, simmering passion igniting between them.

‘Your turn,’ she said, holding his gaze, challenging him.

Slowly, intently, Matteo unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time with slow, strong fingers until at long last he slipped it off and began to unbuckle his belt. Now it was her turn to look at him, to glory in the play of muscles on his shoulders, the deep olive skin, the smattering of hair on his chest, tapering into a line on his stomach. For ten days she’d lain on her sun lounger next to this magnificent body, desperate to touch it, and now here was her chance. She waited until he stepped out