Claiming His One-Night Baby

by Michelle Smart

  ‘But why? I don’t understand. How can he blame you? You were a child.’ Fat tears shone in her eyes.

  Those tears were for him...

  Inhaling deeply, he said, ‘He left a wilful ten-year-old boy in charge of a wilful eight-year-old. My parents left their two children on their own so they could enjoy a nice long lunch with their friends. To forgive me means accepting his own responsibility for the fire. He lies to himself about it every single day. He’s lied to himself now for twenty-five years. He would rather lose two sons than accept his own part of the blame, so if he wishes me dead then to hell with him. When he said what he did at the graveside...something in me snapped. Roberto was gone...there was nothing to keep me there any longer. My last link with my parents was gone. I decided that if I’m not his son and he wished me dead then he didn’t deserve for me to have his name.’

  ‘But what about your mother?’ she asked with a bewildered shake of her head, her words low and ragged. ‘Didn’t it upset her when you changed your name?’

  ‘My aunt Vanessa was more of a mother to me than mine ever was and she wasn’t even blood. My mother was no better than my father. She allowed me to visit Roberto when my father was away on business but she never stood up for me or insisted, as was her right, that I be allowed back to live in the family home. I was her first born and she washed her hands of me just as he did. Like my father she dishonestly put the blame on me rather than accept her own part in it. So I chose my aunt’s maiden name. It felt fitting.’

  The tears poured down Natasha’s face, her shoulders shaking. Then, so quickly he barely registered her move, she was by his side and taking his face in her trembling hands. She pressed her lips tightly to his, not as a kiss of passion but one that had a clinging desperation to it, her tears splashing onto his cheeks.

  Before he could respond or react in any way, she broke away and punched his shoulder, fury now mingling with the distress. ‘How could you give it all up?’

  ‘What?’ Her sudden turnaround of both conversation and mood had him reeling.

  ‘Your dreams.’ She wiped her face furiously but the tears kept coming. ‘Your plans to do reconstructive surgery. You keep saying you didn’t give it up and only changed career paths but you did. You gave up everything you’d worked for. I know you could never have helped your brother surgically but you wanted to help others in the same situation. You did. You were so driven and dedicated. It was never about the money for you.’ She raised her hands and waved them, taking in the luxury furnishings and the spectacular view he enjoyed. ‘It was never about this.’

  He didn’t know what cut through his skin the most, her scornful words or the distress behind them. Both stunned him as much as her tears. Somehow he managed to hold onto his rising temper. ‘I wanted to be a surgeon—I am a surgeon.’

  ‘A surgeon with his own Jetstream, a yacht and the most expensive property in Miami. You followed the money. Was it to prove a point to your father when being the most brilliant doctor in a generation wasn’t enough? You would have been brilliant. I know you would. You had everything there and you threw it away for money.’

  ‘I didn’t throw anything away,’ he snarled, getting to his feet and kicking his chair back. ‘I paid my dues. You know how hard I worked to get through medical school and my residency. I spent over a decade working so hard that there were days I never saw sunlight. I never shirked in my duty, not even when I couldn’t feel my feet from standing for so long or when I had to drink gallons of coffee just to keep my eyes open. Yes, I followed the money but so what? Only a fool wouldn’t. I developed the lotion for Roberto but it was too bloody late for him. His scarred lungs gave up on him. Everything I did was for him but he died, so what was the point? What was the point in working every waking hour when I had nothing to show for it apart from certificates to hang on my wall?

  ‘I saw an opportunity with the lotion to create a skincare range that worked, and I took it. I make no apologies for that. The money I made from it allowed me to open my own clinics, which made me even more money. I’ve worked my backside off for years so why shouldn’t I be allowed to enjoy it? I’m richer than I ever dreamed possible and, yes, it gives me immense satisfaction to think of my father knowing of my wealth and not being able to claim any credit for it because I threw away the name he gave me.’

  Stark silence fell between them.

  Somehow during his vehement rebuttal they’d finished barely a foot apart, close enough for Matteo to see the exact shade of red slowly creeping up Natasha’s neck and over her cheeks.

  Her tears had dried up and now she simply stared at him with wide eyes that held his for the longest time before a flash of pain raced through them.

  Her throat moved before she whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I should never have said any of that. I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘Never apologise for speaking the truth. It might hurt but lies are always, always worse.’ He looked at the light smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and brought his face lower to hers, remembering the feel of her lips on his before the torrent had spewed from her.

  He’d never known such passion before. He’d had a steady string of women in his life over the years, pleasant interludes in a busy life, a pretty face to be photographed with when he opened a new clinic and used the media for publicity...

  Natasha was right that part of what had driven him had been to prove a point to his father. That had been conscious, striving to achieve the riches his father had never been able to find, but it was only at that moment he understood there had been another driving force propelling him forward too.

  Her.

  Every photo posed for knowing it would be all over the media had been taken with her image in his head. She had been with him of every minute of every day, living in his subconscious, the woman who’d thrown away a future that could have been special for them to be with his richer cousin. And only now, years later, did he realise he no longer believed any of it.

  He believed her. He believed right down in his soul that she’d spoken the truth when she’d explained how it had been for her. It had never been about the money for her.

  ‘Seven years ago you kept the truth from me,’ he said, running a thumb over her cheekbone, unable to tear his gaze from those beautiful blue eyes. ‘If you’d found your voice before it was too late who knows how our lives would have turned out? Maybe we would have married each other. Maybe we would have naturally drifted apart. Neither of us can know.’

  Leaning to rest the tip of his nose against hers, he continued, ‘We’re having a child together, bella. I might not have liked what you just said but you’ve found your voice and have learned how to use it, and you can’t know how good that is. I spent too many years distrusting and hating you—I don’t ever want to return to feeling like that. For better or worse we’re going to be tied together by our child for the rest of our lives and the only way we’re going to get through it is by always being honest with each other. We will argue and disagree but you must always speak the truth to me.’

  Natasha fought to keep her feet grounded and her limbs from turning into fondue but it was a fight she was losing, Matteo’s breath warm on her face, his thumb gently moving on her skin but scorching it, the heat from his body almost penetrating her clothes, heat crawling through her, pooling in her most intimate place.

  His scent was right there too, filling every part of her, and she wanted to bury her nose into his neck and inhale him.

  She’d kissed him without any thought, a desperate compulsion to touch him and comfort him flooding her, and then the fury had struck from nowhere, all her private thoughts about the direction he’d taken his career in converging to realise he’d thrown it all away in the pursuit of riches.

  And now she wanted to kiss him again.

  As if he could sense the need inside her, he brought his mouth close to hers but not quite touching, the promise of a kiss.

  ‘And now I will ask you something and I want
complete honesty,’ he whispered, the movement of his words making his lips dance against hers like a breath.

  The fluttering of panic sifted into the compulsive desire. She hated lies too. She never wanted to tell another, especially not to him. But she had to keep her wits about her because there were things she just could not tell because no matter what he said about lies always being worse, sometimes it was the truth that could destroy a life.

  But, God, how could she think properly when her head was turning into candyfloss at his mere touch?

  His other hand trailed down her back and clasped her bottom to pull her flush to him. Her abdomen clenched to feel his erection pressing hard against her lower stomach. His lips moved lightly over hers, still tantalising her with the promise of his kiss. ‘Do you want me to let you go?’

  Her hands that she’d clenched into fists at her sides to stop from touching him back unfurled themselves and inched to his hips.

  The hand stroking her cheek moved round her head and speared her hair. ‘Tell me.’ His lips found her exposed neck and nipped gently at it. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

  ‘Matteo...’ Finally, she found her voice.

  ‘Yes, bella?’

  ‘Don’t stop.’

  Her words were all the encouragement he needed. His mouth swept across her cheek to find her parted lips and then he was kissing her with such hunger she melted into him.

  The fuse relit in an instant. Need burned bright within her, all the desire she’d been suppressing by the skin of her fingers bursting out of her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her hands reaching up to clasp onto his back as she kissed him back, her tongue darting into his mouth, dancing against his.

  And he held her just as tightly. One hand buried in her hair, the other gripping her to him, devouring her as if her kisses were the air he needed to breathe.

  When he broke it and let go of her she almost cried a protest but then he took her face in his hands and rubbed both thumbs across her cheekbones as he stared intently into her eyes. ‘I’m not making love to you here.’

  Love...?

  Although she knew his words weren’t meant in the terms of what love itself meant, something in her heart broke free regardless, taking all the air from her lungs.

  Only when she’d found her breath did she whisper, ‘Then take me home.’

  * * *

  The drive back to Matteo’s home passed in a blur. What had been a relatively short journey into downtown seemed to halve, Matteo driving his powerful car to the limit, weaving in and out of the traffic, his jaw clenched, his focus very much on the road before them. Only his right hand, holding hers tightly on her lap as he navigated the roads, showed any awareness of her beside him.

  When he pulled into the garage what felt like only minutes later, Natasha shook her head, amazed to find she could remember nothing about the drive. All she’d been able to focus on was their kiss, replaying it in her head, her lips still tingling, her body still experiencing the hard pressure of his body pressed against her as if he’d imprinted himself on her.

  As soon as he stopped the car, Matteo leaned over and kissed her again, a deep, heady kiss that sent her head spinning all over again.

  ‘Dio, bella, you’re driving me out of my mind,’ he muttered into her mouth before pulling away to get out of the car.

  On legs that felt as if they were new born, Natasha stepped out too. He was by her side in an instant, taking her hand and leading her up the steps of the garage and into the empty house.

  She’d never been upstairs and where before she’d wondered a lot about what she would find there, she now found she didn’t care, not even when she followed him up the hidden staircase. All she could see at that moment was Matteo. She refused to think about anything else.

  But then they stepped into his bedroom and she gasped at the beauty and simplicity of it. It was so clean but without being clinical, huge without being oppressive and bathed in light that softened the high walls and gave it such a romantic feel that she felt her belly melt all over again.

  She looked at Matteo to find his gaze very much on her, his jaw clenched as it had been during the drive back.

  Stepping to him, she reached up to palm his cheek and stare at the face she’d adored for so many years it seemed she’d gone to sleep with it in her mind every night for ever.

  He breathed deeply before reaching out to gently brush a fallen lock of her hair away from her eyes.

  It was at that moment she realised she’d never got over losing him.

  The pain she’d felt when hearing of his father’s rejection and wish for Matteo to have been the son that had died had cut as deep as if it had been personally directed at her. Whatever choices Matteo had made with his life since they’d dreamed of building a future together all those years ago, it didn’t change that fundamentally he was the best man she’d ever known.

  He was the father of her child and she couldn’t have chosen a better man for it if she’d been given a list with a thousand names on it.

  Was this love? she wondered, dazed at the notion. Or was it just hormones from the pregnancy and a strong case of lust? Whatever it was, the need inside her for him was too strong to even want to fight it any more, not when the green eyes staring back at her were molten with his own unmistakable desire.

  And then he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him and his hot mouth was back on hers and they were kissing as if they could feed from the other.

  Their lovemaking the night they’d conceived their child had been born of a passion fuelled by pain and anger, an old longing that had been kept locked away, out of sight and mind, only to erupt with vengeance at the first opportunity.

  This time, as Matteo lifted her into his strong arms to carry her to the bed, the flames had lit to burn as brightly as they had then but this time there was a sense of wonder and a complete sense of rightness.

  In a melee of arms and legs, he laid her down, just as he had before but with a tenderness beneath the passion.

  When he kissed her, it was with a slow, tempered hunger that was only broken when his hands found the hem of her dress and he pulled it up to take it off her, then smoothed her dislodged hair before kissing her again.

  Raking her hands into his short curly hair, Natasha sighed as his lips trailed down her neck, shivered as they brushed over her collarbone.

  He bent his head lower, reaching her sensitive breasts that were already much heavier than the last time they’d made love. Kissing each one over her lacy bra, he rested his chin between them and looked at her. ‘You’re beautiful, you know that, bella?’

  She swallowed, not wanting to think of all the beautiful women she’d seen him photographed with over the years.

  ‘I mean it.’ There was an intensity in his eyes that matched the intensity in his voice. ‘No one can hold a candle to you.’

  Matteo saw the doubt flicker in her eyes and wondered what Natasha saw when she looked in the mirror. He remembered her jests earlier in his clinic, words said, he knew, to detract from the spell that had woven around them, but there had been something underlying it.

  Did she really not see how beautiful she was? Did she really not know that just listening to her voice was enough for his loins to tighten?

  Raising himself up, he climbed off the bed and stripped his shirt off and divested himself of the rest of his clothes, her eyes following his every movement.

  Only when he was naked did he get back on the bed and trail his fingers from her neck all the way to the line of her knickers, delighting in the way she quivered at his touch.

  There was such innocence in her responses that he found hard to get his head around. On the one hand her responses were ardent, her need and hunger for him as visible and as open as a man could wish for, but now, gazing at the almost naked form of the woman he’d dreamed about for years in the hazy daylight, he could believe he was the first man to have ever seen her like this.

  Placing
a hand behind her back, he lifted her so he could undo the pretty bra hiding her breasts from him. As the lacy material loosened to free her, she tilted her head back and sighed.

  The first time they’d made love had been in the dark. Now he could see her perfectly and she was even more perfect than he had imagined. Had her nipples always been that dark or was that the pregnancy working its magic in her?

  Dipping his head, he took one into his mouth, eliciting another sigh from her.

  As he’d done the first time, he kissed every inch of her, but this time he took it slowly. He wanted to savour it, savour her, to learn everything about her that he could, to find the zones that provoked the loudest gasps and the sharpest digs of her nails into his skin. When he hooked a finger to the side of her knickers, she wriggled beneath him, helping him pull them down her thighs and legs before he threw them with the rest of their discarded clothes onto the floor.

  The heat he found in her most feminine part blew his mind and when he brushed over the soft hair and rubbed a thumb over the centre of her pleasure, her eyes widened and a moan flew from her mouth. Keeping a steady pressure with his thumb, he slowly slid a finger into the damp heat. She moaned again and arched her back, her hair falling like a waterfall onto the pillow.

  Dio, he had never known anything like this. He could make love to her for ever.

  He kissed the softly rounded belly then kissed lower to replace his thumb with his tongue, inhaling the musky sweetness he would gladly bottle and keep on him always.

  Her little sighs of pleasure deepened and she whispered his name. Before he could finish what he’d started she wriggled beneath him and sat up, pouncing on him so she straddled him, her arms locked around his neck and her hands cradling his scalp as she fused her lips to his with a hunger that sucked the air from him.

  Then she touched and kissed him everywhere, just as he had done to her, his shoulders, his arms, his stomach, his thighs, his aching erection, her mouth leaving a trail of heat on his skin that fired his blood to a level he’d never imagined. And in the fever with which she so beautifully caressed him was a reverence, almost as if she were exploring him with wonder in her heart side by side with the passion that drove them both.