Of course, I say yes. I want Marco to touch me.

Anywhere. Everywhere.

Before I can blink, he’s maneuvering me onto my back and lifting one of my legs onto the sofa to make room for his lower body. Under the expensive material of his pants, he’s incredibly hard, like a steel pipe pressing against the mound of my pussy.

I expect him to slide his hands under my dress—I want him to—but he doesn’t. Instead, he tugs my dress off my shoulder, exposing the lacy strap of my pale-yellow bra, and braces himself above me.

When he drops his head, I arch my neck to the side so he can nuzzle the crook where it and my shoulder meet. He breathes deeply.

“Mmm. I love the way you smell.” His lips caress my skin as he talks, sending goose bumps skittering over my torso and down my arms. “Like vanilla custard in an éclair.”

He licks a circle on the side of my neck, just a couple of inches from where my pulse throbs. “I’ve always loved those pastries. Crisp on the outside but soft on the inside.”

Gliding his mouth over my collarbone, he pauses to nip and suck it. “You’re like an éclair, aren’t you?”

I hope he’s not expecting a reply. The feel of his lips and tongue have stolen my voice.

“You’re soft on the inside,” he says, answering his own question.

He presses open-mouthed kisses across the slope of my breast and stops with his face deep in my cleavage. He dips his tongue into the valley between my breasts, licking up and down. My nipples tighten into hard little nubs, and my clit pulses with my heartbeat.

Reaching between us, he grasps my bra and my dress in his fist and pulls until my breast bounces free. He swipes his tongue over my nipple, darkened from pregnancy, and then blows on it.

I shiver as the swollen tip puckers tightly, almost painful now. Needing his mouth on me, I palm his head and bring it to my nipple.

“What do you want?” he whispers against me. “You want me to suck you?”

“Yes,” I moan. “Please. Now.”

The feel of his hot mouth covering my taut nipple makes me cry out. He starts off gently, with just a bit of suction, but then he increases the pressure, pulling so strongly that I feel it reverberating in my clit. When he releases my nipple from his mouth, I’m shaking.

He bares my other breast and focuses his attention on that nipple. Drawing it into his mouth, he brings his teeth together in gentle, rhythmic bites that make my legs stiffen with arousal.

“Oh, my God. Marco.” 

I don’t know if it’s him or if it’s pregnancy, but I think I might come just from him playing with my nipples. The ache in my pussy is so sharp now I can barely think.

“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice as smoky as an old-time jazz club.

A memory tickles the back of my mind—another voice asking if I want more. Marco’s question reminds me of Wolf and our fast fuck in the folly.

“Cassie?”

Marco’s voice brings me back to the present. “More?” he asks. 

“Yes,” I breathe, letting Wolf hide in the shadows of my mind.

Marco bunches my dress in his hand and drags it up my thighs. With it pooled around my waist, he shifts us so we’re lying on our sides, facing each other.

He curves his palm over the swell of my abdomen for a moment before cupping my mound. It’s a possessive move, a silent way of saying, This pussy is mine. He’s right. It was his even when Wolf was inside me.

Marco doesn’t move for several seconds, letting the heat of his hand seep through the thin material covering me. I’m breathing in little gasps now, and when he eases his fingers into my panties, my lungs seize up.

He smooths the strip of hair on my pussy before nudging his fingers into my slit. They slide through my wetness to graze my clit. Energy zings down my spine, lighting up my nervous system.

He touches my clit again with featherlight pressure before sliding lower and finding my opening. He circles it, spreading the slickness of my arousal around, and then pushes one thick finger inside me, so slowly I can feel the bump of his knuckle.

He withdraws, and with the next deliciously slow thrust, he adds another finger and rubs against a sensitive spot inside me. My pussy flutters, sending a stream of arousal over his hand.

With a groan, he pushes deeper before slipping his fingers from my body and bringing them to his mouth. They’re shiny and wet with my—

“I love when an éclair overflows with cream, and I get to suck it out.” His eyes catch mine as he licks my juice from his fingers, groaning with each flick of his tongue. “Oh, yeah. Sweetest I’ve ever had. Fucking delicious. I want to eat you until your cream is all over my face, and you’re begging me to make you come.”

His sex talk spreads heat across my chest and over my stomach to coalesce in my pelvis. As if he could read my mind, he says, “You like that, don’t you? My sweet girl likes it when I’m dirty.”

I can’t do anything except nod because he’s right. I like him dirty, and I want to know how dirty he can get. I want to know how dirty I can get with him.

“You want that, Cassie? You want me to make you come?”

I lick my lips. “Yes.”

“Tell me how.” His voice deepens. “Do you want me to use my fingers? My mouth? My cock?”

“Everything you’ve got,” I whisper.

His lust-hazed eyes widen before his lids drop lower, giving him a drowsy look. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties and strips them down my legs and over my feet with no trouble since my sandals fell off a few minutes ago.

Staring at my bare pussy, he says, “Definitely an éclair.” He tugs on the thin strip of dark hair above my slit. “Look at this chocolate icing.”

I laugh breathlessly, but it dies on my lips when he curves his hands over my hips and pulls me to the edge of the cushions. I can feel my pulse thrumming in my neck, between my legs, the backs of my knees. It’s roaring in my ears too, like Rhine Falls in Switzerland.

He leans forward until his face hovers above my pussy. When he sniffs at it like an animal scenting its mate, I moan from a combination of excitement and embarrassment.

His eyes shoot to mine. “Yes?”

I swallow thickly, hardly able to believe that Marco is about to go down on me. “Yes,” I whisper.

“I’ve thought about this at least a thousand times.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

Taking my hands in his, he brings them between my legs. “Show me that creamy cunt.”

“Oh,” I gasp, shocked and turned on by his words. But I do what he says, sliding my thumbs into my slit and opening myself for him.

A noise erupts from his throat, reminding me of a wolf’s feral snarl. Shoving his face into my spread pussy, he devours me, licking me up and down and circling my clit. It’s glorious and filthy, and within seconds, I’m teetering on the edge.

“Yes,” I moan. 

He growls against my slippery folds, sucking hard on my clit. I’m grinding my pussy against his face now, desperate to come. He pushes two fingers inside me and pumps them in and out.

“Close,” I gasp. “So close.” 

A shrill beeping interrupts my bliss, and I jolt in surprise. Marco jerks his head up, swiveling it from side to side.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, pulling his fingers from my body.

It takes a second for my brain to connect to my mouth. “The oven timer. The osso buco is probably burning.”

He closes his eyes for a long blink. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

Taking a deep breath, he rises in a lithe move and stalks into the kitchen. As I scramble into a sitting position, I hear the oven door open followed by the scrape of the pan against the rack and a clang as he slides the osso buco onto a burner on the stove.

By the time Marco returns to the living room, my undergarments are back where they belong, and my dress covers everything he uncovered earlier. I’m sitting with my knees pressed together, not out of modesty, but to relieve the unbearable ache between my legs.

To my surprise, he sits on the ottoman in front of me instead of on the cushion beside me. Clasping his hands between his spread knees, he leans forward. As his gaze roams over my face, a self-conscious blush sweeps across my chest and up my face, leaving my cheeks burning.

“I need to tell you something.”

His serious tone makes my muscles tense up. “Okay,” I say, wariness threaded through my voice.

“I know this is going to surprise you, and you’re probably not going to believe me at first, but I want you to ... have an open mind. Can you do that for me?”

I give him a brief nod, wondering what he could possibly say that would be more surprising and unbelievable than what just happened between us. He clears his throat roughly, obviously nervous. I’ve never seen him so ill at ease.

His gaze captures mine. “I love you, Cassie.”

I tilt my head, certain that I didn’t hear him correctly. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?”

I watch his mouth—watch the way he shapes the words as they come out slowly and deliberately. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you almost from the moment we met.”

My eyes widen involuntarily. He was right—I’m definitely surprised, and I don’t believe him.

“You’re everything I want,” he continues.

I lurch to my feet and stare down at him. “You could have anyone ... be with anyone. Why would you want me?”

The words spill out of me, raw in their honesty. It’s not that I think I’m unworthy of a man’s love or devotion, but Marco isn’t an ordinary guy. He’s a prince.

Even if he didn’t have royal blood running through his veins, he’s still not an ordinary guy. He’s far more charming and thoughtful. More intelligent and giving. More sophisticated and educated. And don’t forget good-looking and wealthy.

Not ordinary at all. Extraordinary.

“Why would I want you?” Marco parrots my question. “Because you’re everything, Cassie.” His eyes go from intense to melted chocolate. “You’re kind. Generous. Smart. Funny. Gorgeous. Sexy. And a million other amazing things.” He gives a self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re a lot more than I deserve.”

He unfolds his tall form from the ottoman, forcing me to shuffle sideways to make room for him. We face each other, me with my arms crossed over my chest and Marco with his arms open wide.

He takes a step closer to me. “I know this is a surprise, but I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me.” He pauses meaningfully. “I love you.” Another step. “I love you.”

My knees start to shake because I’m slowly starting to comprehend that he really means it. He’s in love with me.

Me. Cassie Lulach.

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way,” he says, “but I had to tell you how I felt. I didn’t want there to be any confusion about what I want.”

When I finally untangle everything he just said, I take a deep breath and let my arms fall to my sides. “I do feel the same way.”

He blinks rapidly, his dark lashes quivering. “You do?”

“Yes. I love you too.”

He huffs out a laugh and looks up at the ceiling. “Thank you, Jesus.”

I can’t help smiling at his obvious relief. “What happens now?” I touch my bump. “I’m pregnant.”

“I noticed.” Moving closer to me, he places his hand on mine. “I love you, and I love this baby.”

“Even though she’s not yours?”

“She is...” He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. “I’m...”

I place my other hand on top of his. “Marco, I know this is a lot to—”

Sinking to his knees in front of me, he brings my hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “I promise to take care of you and the baby. I promise to love her as if she were my own. She’ll be mine in every way that matters.”

His fingers tighten. “Will you marry me, Cassie?”