Page 98 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8

‘So arrogant.’ But her words sounded like yearning, her breath caressing his face as her eyes locked on his, as feverish as he felt.

His own voice was gravel and longing as he tried to focus beyond his groin. ‘I just say it like it is.’

Gio couldn’t say who moved but suddenly their lips were locked as the frenzy of need unleashed itself. It wasn’t a delicate kiss, more like the grind of tectonic plates as continents came together, creating earthquakes and unleashing flows of molten lava.

Tongues tangled and fought. Hands grabbed his jaw, scratching his stubble as she angled for more purchase. Teeth scraped, mouths sucked and the spiral of arousal spun faster. So good yet not enough, not nearly enough.

Gio fought to scrabble back some control. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain yelled a voice demanding he slow down, get her to admit she was pregnant.

But that fragment of thought only pushed restraint further away. His craving for Stella, the knowledge she carried his baby, outrage that she’d been about to give herself to another man, coalesced with the feel of Stella all but climbing his body, as desperate as he.

He was lost.

Gio didn’t remember reaching down, planting his hands on her rump and lifting her high against him. But he heard her growl of approval and felt the slam of satisfaction as her pelvis met his erection.

For a long moment he stood still, absorbing the shocking blast of arousal and a hunger so great it threatened to undo him.

Opening one eye, he manoeuvred them a couple of stiff paces to the grand piano, and sat her on the polished surface.

‘Help me.’ His voice was thick and raw, muffled against her mouth, but she understood.

Without breaking the feverish kiss, she pushed his hips back enough to open her legs. The feel of her knees wide around him made him shudder in anticipation. Together they grappled with her long skirt.

Frustration was sharp as instead of encountering smooth flesh, he discovered nylon pantyhose. Even so, rubbing his palms up her legs, while she tackled his belt, only notched his pleasure higher.

Then, to his surprise, he found bare skin. Old-fashioned stockings rather than pantyhose. His libido spiked, even as a ragged flag of anger stirred because she’d dressed seductively for another man.

But Gio was acting now on instinct, not thought. He pushed his erection into her palm as she unzipped him and familiar pressure built to impossible levels.

Ruthlessly he grabbed her hands and pulled them away, planting them on his shoulders. Stella dragged her mouth from his, protesting, but he shook his head. ‘I need to be in you when we come.’

Her pupils dilated and he’d never known anything sexier than this woman in this moment, needing him as much as he needed her. Something passed between them, a moment of understanding, of acceptance. A second later he tore her lacy underwear free and guided himself to her, nudging at heaven.

Then they moved at the same time, coming together so easily it stunned him. Dazed, he catalogued the intense heat, the slick friction, the tight embrace. But the reality was far more than all those things. It was something so profound he felt it not just in his groin but his heart, his blood, even his overloaded brain.

He heard a deep sigh, had time enough, just, to be stunned anew by how perfect they were together, when the inevitable happened and the compulsion to move eclipsed all else.

He withdrew and powered back hard. Stella met him, their bodies totally in sync. A shiver ran down his spine and around to his groin. Another retreat and surge and the crisis hit as her body clenched around him, her hands clutching him close.

Fire shot through his veins and the conflagration took him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding tight as the world disintegrated into rapture.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Stella leant onthe railing of her balcony, watching the sun rise over the lake. Rosy fingers of light illuminated the sky and the villa’s magnificent garden.

Another time she’d have found the scene delightful. Now she felt as if she’d swallowed a swarm of fire ants. She was jittery, pinpricks peppering her body and her face awash with the shame of remembrance.

How could she have behaved so? Where was her pride?

She hadn’t acted sensibly. Not like a woman with an unborn child to care for. She hadn’t thought at all. She’d let emotions carry her away. When she was near Gio it was as if a switch flicked inside her. All the things she should do, the things she needed to consider, flew out of her head.

All night she’d tossed and turned, reliving their confrontation downstairs and the mad impulsive rush of lust that had brought them together.

It was a form of madness, her body’s craving for a man who’d treated her so badly. She wanted to hate him. Shedidhate him. Why couldn’t she fall pregnant to a decent, kind man instead of a manipulator? Why did it have to be Giancarlo Valenti who’d impregnated her?

Yet despite that, her feelings for her unborn child didn’t waver. From the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy, even through her shock, she’d felt a warmth, a maternal instinct, she supposed, to nurture and love her baby. The bond she’d felt to her mother had been unbreakable. She wanted that with her child. She’d fight everything and everyone to ensure her baby was happy and safe from manipulative men, whether her father or the man who’d fathered this new life.

If only Gio weren’t still in the picture. It scared Stella that she hadn’t managed to rid herself of her need for him.