The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(50)
“Have you thought of names for the baby yet?” he asked after nearly half an hour of increasingly comfortable silence, and Theresa was so relaxed by that time that she couldn’t even summon up any outrage at what she considered to be a forbidden topic.
“Hmmm…” she moaned, inhaling his warm, clean scent with visible pleasure. “I like the names Kieran and Ethan. Liam maybe, but I’m leaning toward Alex…” Her voice trailed off awkwardly as she realized what she had revealed and hoped that he wouldn’t notice. But this was Sandro and he was sharper than the proverbial tack.
“Alex?” he observed casually. “Alexander?”
Stupid, stupid fool! She berated herself angrily. How could she have revealed that she was leaning toward naming her son after him? He said nothing further on the subject, and she relaxed after a few tense minutes.
“What about girl names?” he asked. “You haven’t thought of any?” Of course she hadn’t thought of any. She was having a boy. She refused to answer his question.
“I like the name Lily,” he murmured, his voice almost dreamy as he continued to gently stroke the slight mound of her abdomen. “Or Sofia…Lily would have black hair like mine but beautiful green eyes like yours, but I think a Sofia should have red hair and brown eyes, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for her response, merely continued on in that same dreamy voice. “Lily would be a sweet child, but Sofia, she’s temperamental. She likes to throw things…”
“Stop it,” she hissed. “There will be no Lily or Sofia! There will be a Liam or an Ethan, maybe a Kieran or an Alex, and he will have red hair and green eyes. He will be a sweet and lovable child.” He didn’t comment, merely kept up the soothing, nonthreatening movements of his large, strong hands. A while afterward, the lazy stroking slowed down, before stopping completely and his hands became heavy on her body. He slumped heavily against her and a soft snore confirmed that he had fallen asleep. Theresa sighed quietly before allowing herself to drift off as well.
The natural light in the room had a warm orange glow to it when she woke up later and she saw it was just after dusk, meaning that she had slept for nearly five hours. She sighed lazily, feeling remarkably warm and comfortable with her head cushioned on Sandro’s hard chest and her neck supported by his upper arm. That same arm was curled around her shoulders with his big hand snuggled just under her right breast. One of her hands was tucked under her cheek and the other was…she tensed abruptly when she discovered where her audacious hand had come to rest. It was cupped over the firm bulge of his crotch. A bulge that was rapidly swelling and hardening beneath her palm.
“Don’t panic,” Sandro’s sleep-roughened voice growled. The deep tenor of his voice rumbled through the chest beneath her head. “Don’t…it’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t feel like nothing to me.” Her own voice was husky with sleep, and she amazed herself when, instead of following her first instinct and snatching her hand away from his crotch, she gently and almost tentatively, curled her hand around the thickening shaft of flesh.
“Madre de Dio, cara…” he choked out on a strangled voice. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she murmured, her small hand petting and stroking him in much the same way he had done to her earlier. Only this was a lot less innocent.
“Theresa.” His voice was strained. “Sweetheart, please if you keep doing that I don’t know…I don’t think…”
“Don’t think,” she purred, lifting her head from his chest to meet his pleading brown eyes. “That’s a good idea.”
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
Theresa didn’t really know the answer to that, only she had missed having him in her bed, in her arms, and in her body the last few months. Logically, she knew that her raging hormones had a great deal to do with her unwanted urges, but she also knew that a large part of it could be attributed to her annoyingly undying love and desire for him.
“Theresa, I don’t think this is what the doctor had in mind when he recommended bed rest and you don’t really want this…” he muttered, reaching down to drag her hand away from his straining, fully erect length.
“I do,” she protested, trying to pull her hand free from his strong grip.
“No…you’re…I don’t know…your hormones are out of control because of the pregnancy, that’s why you feel like this.” His voice trailed off when one of her slender thighs moved up to where her hand had just been. He moaned helplessly when she applied slight pressure and relaxed his hold on her. That was all she needed, and she was straddling him before either of them realized her intention. Suddenly her warm feminine mound was grinding up against him and both of them were groaning. Theresa watched as his head tilted back on the pillow and smiled in catlike satisfaction when his hands dropped to her thighs to drag her even closer. She braced her hands on his broad chest in order to maintain her balance and continued to sensuously rub herself against him.
“I think you may be right,” she eventually gasped. “About the hormones…I want you but I don’t want to want you.” Her frustration with herself and the situation were clouding her clear green eyes, and his eyes went stormy with some kind of ruthlessly repressed emotion.