Molly wakes in a Roman hospital and remembers nothing, not her name or how she came to be in Rome. She doesn't even speak the language! Then doctors break the news that she's pregnant... When a sexy stranger, Pietro Acardi, says he's Molly's husband, she's released into his care. Yet even after several days sharing his apartment and she still has no concrete memories of them together, despite her increasing awareness of him. The way he keeps his distance, never even touching her, is disturbing, especially when she longs for some hint, some memory of a connection between them.
Smooch -
She drew a fortifying
breath and linked her hands before her. ‘I can’t shake the feeling there’s
something wrong between us.’
Did he stiffen?
‘You don’t open up
about what’s on your mind. And you don’t—’
‘Don’t what?’ His brow
furrowed.
‘You don’t touch me.’
She didn’t mean for it to emerge like a challenge.
His eyes rounded in
genuine shock. ‘That bothers you? I thought, since you didn’t remember me…’ He
lifted his shoulders in an expressive shrug.
Pietro was right. Logic
said she wouldn’t welcome the touch of a man she barely knew. Except she did know him. Something within her
yearned for him. Whenever he smiled at her she lit up inside.
Molly refused to feel
embarrassed about being attracted to her own husband. He should be pleased she wanted him.
‘It would be nice if
you didn’t treat me like a house guest.’ She sucked in a lungful of air. ‘For
instance, I’d like you to kiss me.’
For a second he was
utterly still, as if she’d shocked him. Then gold flared in his hooded eyes.
‘That’s what’s bothering you? That I haven’t kissed you?’
Molly’s chin rose and
her hands slid to her hips. Pietro didn’t smile but she just knew he was
laughing inside. She’d never been more certain of anything.
‘I don’t see the
humour.’ This wasn’t funny! She was tempted to turn away and leave him to his
amusement. Except she’d be back exactly where she was before.
‘It’s not just about
kisses. It’s about the state of our relationship. Are you holding something
back from me? There’s something not quite right. You…’
Her words ended as
Pietro’s big hands wrapped round her elbows and pulled her against him. Her
breath expelled in a tiny puff of air. Not from the physical force of the action,
but from raw shock.
Molly had told herself
she was prepared. Didn’t she crave intimacy with him? Yet the sensation of
Pietro against her, of that wall of hot muscle making every nerve receptor in
her body twang into overdrive, was so much more
than she’d imagined.
Stunned, she looked at
that firm mouth just inches away. It was intriguingly sculpted, strong yet
sensual, and it curled up in a delicious invitation that made every atom of her
needy body sit up and beg.
Molly swallowed hard,
all her bravado swamped by the certainty that, as far as kisses went, Pietro
was a consummate expert and she…
Thought atrophied as
his head lowered and his mouth opened over hers. Electricity jolted through
her. That was the only way she could explain the sizzle that drew her skin
tight and puckered her nipples against her bra.
Pietro’s lips were
softer than she expected, gentle, moving with aching slowness over hers as if
taking time to relearn what must surely be familiar territory. Familiar to him.
To her this caress felt shockingly new and unfamiliar. His mouth moved again,
his tongue licking the seam of her lips and something drove hard and fast down
through her belly straight to that achingly hollow place between her legs.
Molly trembled and
grabbed Pietro’s arms. She felt the power of them, taut with restraint. He held
himself utterly still but for the tantalising slide of lips and tongue.
Another caress, this
time more insistent, and something inside her gave way, yielded yet at the same
time blossomed into life.
Molly’s lips opened and
Pietro’s tongue swept deep.
Her knees caved so
abruptly it was only his hold that stopped her crashing to the floor. The
effect of that deep, searching kiss was instant and overwhelming. Her blood
fizzed as every neuron in her brain ignited.
This was what she wanted. What she knew and craved.
Her hands slid high,
over hard shoulders and a strong neck, fingers threading through Pietro’s thick
hair to clamp his skull and hold him to her.
She’d wanted memory and
now she had it. Not a recollection as such but a sense memory. Her body sparked
with excitement and recognition at the taste of him, the heady power of his
possession, the familiarity of his hard body pressed against hers.
A sob of relief and
arousal rose at the back of her throat as she pushed closer.
That’s when the kiss
changed, from slow and searching, as if Pietro believed he needed to entice her
into a response, to something more potent and urgent.
One large hand anchored
on her buttock, drawing her up to his groin. The other cupped her waist, the
splay of his fingers hot as a brand through the thin fabric of her dress. It
made her wonder how his touch would feel on bare skin.
The notion notched her
need higher. Molly opened her mouth wider, stroking his tongue with hers,
inviting him to devour her.
Pietro’s hand slid up
from her waist, his long fingers slipping over first one rib then another till
his thumb brushed the underside of her breast and she sucked in a raw gasp.
That felt so good. On
tiptoe now, she tried to merge her body with his, desperate to meld with him.
When his hand closed fully
over her breast a jolt of energy zapped from her nipple to her toes, setting
off explosions along the way.
Molly held
on tight as Pietro and her own needy body led her into a sensual world of give
and take, of building ecstasy.
A tiny part of her
brain screamed that she needed to be careful, to think before she gave herself
so unstintingly. But she couldn’t stop or pull back. She didn’t want to. This
was a rainbow of colour after a world of grey, delicious food after nothing but
ashes in her mouth. It was life and sex and love after fear and pain and
loneliness.
Forgetting things can be a real problem, even without amnesia! I'm more likely to forget things when I'm stressed and trying to keep on top of too many things. How about you? Do you have a habit of forgetting important things, or remembering them just in the nick of time? How do you jog your memory?
I'll giveaway a signed copy of HER FORGOTTEN LOVER'S HEIR to someone who leaves a comment to this post here or on the LoveCats FaceBook page. Come back next Sunday to find out who the winner is! Oh, and it doesn't matter where you live, the giveaway is international.
