The Marriage Trap

Chapter Eleven

Maggie stared at the priest like he’d arrived to perform an exorcism. The room fell quiet, and Carina seemed anxious over their complete nonexcitement. In fact, at another time and place in her life, this may be hilarious. Almost like one of the comic sitcoms she loved where stupid situations happened in the comfort of her living room.

No way. She was not going to marry Michael Conte.

A crazed laugh bubbled from her lips. Enough was enough. She waited for Michael to explain the truth. He’d never go through with it. Hell, she was his own worst nightmare come to life, even though they had great sex and he’d said some sweet things. In the cold light of morning, he’d lose interest and move on for his search for a proper wife. One who was better suited to him and his family. Someone like Alexa.

Carina finally spoke. “Um, guys? Aren’t you excited? We’re going to have a wedding.”

Since her fake husband seemed dumbstruck—with the emphasis on dumb—she decided to be the rational one. Maggie took a deep breath. “Listen, everyone. We have something important to tell you. You see, Michael and I—”

“Wait!” Michael’s roar choked off her words. Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull as he calmly walked over, took her hand, and faced his family. “What Maggie means to say is, we never expected to have the ceremony take place so soon. Maggie had her heart set on inviting our cousins and uncles to the celebration.” His laugh came out hollow and fake. “How did the approval go so fast? I mean, Father Richard, I figured you’d want Maggie and me to go through some classes first before blessing our union.”

Father Richard, in his godlike presence, sensed no evil lies in the vicinity and smiled warmly. “Well, of course, that is the standard, Michael. You know the church takes a while to approve a marriage, but you have been under my care since you were young. As soon as your mother knew you were flying back home, she contacted me and we pushed the paperwork through. You are a count, and royalty does have some assets.”

Mama Conte struggled to sit up. She sipped at the water and handed the glass back to Father Richard. When she spoke, her voice was threaded with weakness. Odd, because even when she was tired, his mother snapped out her words with a strength in complete contradiction to the frail vision before him. God, maybe she was really, really sick. “I understand, my son. And I do not wish to take away your wishes, but I’m afraid I will not be up for a big party. I feel so weak. The doctor will be back tomorrow, and he said if I am still this way, he may choose to take me to the hospital for tests.”

Her brown eyes held a glint of determination. “I ask you two to do this for me. Recite your vows on the back terrace so I can be certain your union is complete.”

Carina seemed relieved at their concerns and went back to nonstop chatter. “See, there’s nothing to worry about. I know we’d rather do a big party, but if you’re flying back next week, Mama decided it’s more important to have the religious ceremony immediately.” She clapped her hands together. “Maggie, I got a dress for you! I hope you like it; I snuck in your closet and got your size, and I have it in my room. Let’s get you dressed! The girls should be here any moment. Michael, you should wear that gorgeous tux you left here from the last time. La Dolce Famiglia delivered a chocolate cannoli cream cake, and I have a few bottles of champagne chilling. This is going to be so much fun!”

The scene blurred before Maggie. Her heart sped up, and sweat pricked her skin. The breath lodged in her throat and refused to emerge. She tried her normal fighting tactics, but a part of her understood she was too late. She was crashing fast, and this may be one of her most embarrassing moments of all time.

Suddenly, Michael’s gaze sharpened on her face. As if he sensed her impending collapse, he made a quick excuse, then dragged her out of the room. Maggie shuddered as the waves of adrenaline surged through her and stole her sanity. They reached the bedroom, and Michael guided her to the bed, pushing her head down between her knees. The instinct to fight the fear of losing control made her reaction worse. She clenched her fists and gasped for air. She was about to scream in helplessness when Michael’s strong hands and voice shredded through the fog and commanded her attention.

“Listen to me, Maggie. Breathe. Slow and steady. You will be all right; I have you and I won’t let anything happen to you. Give up your control and let yourself go.” His hands rubbed her back in gentle motions, and his fingers interlaced with hers in a show of strength. She focused on his voice and clung to the solid weight of his words. She gave in to the feelings twisting inside of her and finally, her lungs clutched air. The clock ticked, and her heart slowed, allowing the breath to release back into her body. All the while, Michael kept talking to her, low nonsense that soothed her and brought her from the brink. Finally, she lifted her head.

He pressed his forehead against hers and cupped her cheeks. “Better, cara?” His fathomless onyx eyes drilled into hers with worry and a deeper emotion she didn’t recognize.

Maggie nodded. Emotion surged, a strange mixture of tenderness and need she never experienced. Too afraid to speak, she reveled in the stroke of his hand down her cheek and the warm rush of breath over her lips.

“Let me get you some water. Stay there and just relax. We will work this out.”

He left the room and came back and gave her tiny sips of cold, fresh water that trickled down her raw throat. A calmness settled over her. She was safe. Somehow, some way, she trusted him. First with her body.

Now her heart.

“I guess the thought of marrying me wasn’t very tasteful,” he said dryly.

She sputtered a laugh. “Didn’t mean to hit your ego, Count. Just something about legally marrying my fake husband in front of his family threw me for a second.”

He sighed and dragged his hands over his face. “This is very bad.”

“You think? I feel like your mother is the hitman from the movie The Marrying Man. Remember when the mobster made them get married because they had sex?” She moaned. “We never should have gone to bed together. Somehow, we’re being punished. We have to tell your mother the truth.”

She waited for his nod, but instead he shot her a strange look. “I do not know this movie, and my family is not Mafia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, duh! Why do I feel like you’re not on the same page as me?”

“What page?”

Lord, sometimes she forgot how many American expressions he didn’t understand. “Never mind. Why aren’t you horrified?”

“I am! I’m just thinking of all the angles. Look, cara, my mother is sick. The doctor said to avoid all stress and give her anything she asks for. If I tell her the truth now, she may end up having a heart attack.”

Maggie’s heart lurched at the thought of being responsible for Mama Conte. She nibbled at her lower lip. “Michael, what are you asking me?”

His gaze drilled into hers. Each word struck her like nails driven into her proverbial coffin. “I want you to marry me.” He paused. “For real.”

She jumped up from the bed. “What? We can’t do this. Are you crazy? We’ll be legally married. When we get back to the States, we’ll have to go through an annulment or divorce or something. Oh, my God, this is insane. How is this happening? I’m trapped in a frickin’ romance novel!”

“Calm down.” He crossed the room and snagged her hands. “Listen to me, Maggie. I will take care of everything. No one else has to know. We’ll say our vows, have a party, and leave for home. I’ll take care of all the paperwork and expenses. It will be discreet. I’m asking you to do this for my mother, for my family. I know I ask too much, but I’m asking anyway.”

The world tilted. Michael waited for her answer, his face calm as if he had asked her for a dinner date rather than a marriage vow. Pushing past all the screaming thoughts blurring in her mind, she reached deep for an answer.

His mother was sick. Yes, she’d made a bargain for a fake marriage, but telling the truth at this point could be a complete disaster. His sisters would feel betrayed and heartbroken. Venezia wouldn’t be able to marry, and who knows what type of drama could ensue? Would it be so bad to say some vows and make it legal? It was just a piece of paper. Nothing would change, and it wasn’t like anyone had to know. She had no one back home—no lover or family she cared about other than Nick and Alexa. Maybe the whole thing could work. If she married him now, she could hop on a plane tomorrow, hitch it back to New York, and pretend the whole thing never happened.

Yeah. She was in the land of denial.

He’d owe her big-time, and she’d be sure he stayed far away from Alexa from now on. One tiny sacrifice to make in the big scheme of things. They were just silly words from a book. A holy book, sure, but still man-made. Right? Meant nothing.

Mia amore.

The term rattled her to the core and she trembled. Who was she kidding? He asked her to stay. Acted as if he cared about her beyond the physical sex. If she agreed, in some crazy way she’d allow herself to fall completely for him and end up smashed. He was already getting so close to the truth of her past, and she swore no one would ever feel sorry for her. Vowed all those years ago no one would ever know.

There was one way, though, to make sure she never got hurt. “I’ll do it.”

He moved toward her but she shook her head. “On one condition, Count. Stop pushing me. We finish this ruse for the rest of the week and go our separate ways. No more sleeping together. No more pretending this is more than it is.”

His eyes delved into hers and swirled with an array of emotions. “This is what you ask from me?”

Silly tears threatened but she ruthlessly shoved them back and tilted her chin. Then lied. “Yes. This is what I want.”

“I am sorry you feel this way, cara,” he whispered. Regret and something more, something dangerous, shone in his face. “Va bene.”

Maggie yanked her hands from his, strode across the room, and threw open the door. “Carina, get up here and help me get that wedding gown on. And uncork the champagne.”

A loud whoop and clapping drifted up the stairs. Michael nodded, then walked past her without another word.

Her throat tightened as she prepared for the biggest show of her life and tried to pretend she didn’t feel so empty.

The sun exploded in burnt-orange radiance over the horizon. Maggie stood before the priest on the back terrace. In a few hours Michael’s sisters had transformed the yard into a simple elegance that took her breath away. Colorful roses burst from hanging baskets amid paper lanterns casting an intimate glow along the walkway. His mother sat propped up on cushions in her chair, an elegant handmaid quilt tossed over her lap. His sisters flaunted a variety of colorful dresses with tiny bouquets of white lilies as they walked before her, but it wasn’t until she gazed upon her soon-to-be-real husband that Maggie realized her life was about to change.

He was dressed in a dark tux that emphasized the wide breadth of his shoulders and chest, his hair tied back, and the carved features of his face softened as he stared at her with admiration. The sheer white dress skimmed over her figure, dipping low in the front and hugging the full length of her arms. A small train spread out behind her. Michael took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. Tingles shot up her arm, and a tiny smile quirked his full lips as he sensed the connection. He kept her hand tucked in his arm as if afraid she’d flee. The priest faced them and began the ceremony. The words mingled and blurred in a rush, until she began to recite her vows.

For better or worse . . .

In sickness and in health . . .

To honor and respect . . .

Till death do us part . . .

Birds chirped in the trees. Dante threw a disgusted look at her as he perched beside her, licking his paw and waiting for the embarrassing scene to be over. The wind blew warm and soft, mocking her words and carrying them far over the hills. A deep silence settled over the courtyard as the Conte family waited.

“I do.”

The kiss was feather light, but when he lifted his head, she sucked in her breath at the satisfaction gleaming within onyx depths. She didn’t have time to think about it, because she was thrust into his arms and given champagne while the truth vibrated through every nerve ending in her body.

She loved him.

She was in love with Michael Conte. For real.

Venezia squealed with excitement and held Dominick’s hand. “I’m so happy! Now, we have another surprise for you. We’re sending you to our second home in Lake Como for a honeymoon night. You need some privacy without worrying about your family sleeping downstairs.” Her eyes sparkled, and she handed the keys to Michael. “Leave now and we won’t expect you back till tomorrow night.”

Michael frowned and glanced toward his mother. “I thought we rented it out for the season? And I don’t feel comfortable leaving her before I confirm she’s okay.”

Somehow, the woman’s sharp sense of hearing kicked in. She shot her son a look that should have withered him on the spot. “Oh, you will go, Michael and Margherita. The house is empty for the next month, so you might as well take advantage. The girls will take care of me and call immediately if anything changes. You will not rob me of the satisfaction of giving you a honeymoon night.”

Unbelievably, heat rushed to Maggie’s cheeks. She’d gone skinny-dipping, handled naked men on her job, and watched Alexa give birth to her niece without a hiccup of shyness. Now, the very idea of sleeping with her husband with his mother’s staunch approval caused her to blush. What the hell?

Venezia whispered something to Dominick and then tugged Maggie off to the side. Her eyes, so like her brother’s, shone with an inner light that took Maggie’s breath away. The woman interlaced their fingers and gently kissed her hand. “Thank you, Maggie.”

“For what?”

Her face grew serious. “For what you did. I know you probably dreamed of your own wedding with Michael in the future, and I also suspect Michael rushed this engagement for me. You’ve changed him. When he came to apologize to me, he admitted he never realized how he acted until you told him. I can only hope you know how much you mean to this family. You’ve given me a gift—the opportunity to marry Dominick this summer—and I’ll never forget it. I’m so glad you belong to us now.”

As Venezia hugged her, a part of Maggie’s soul broke off. The oozing pain of deceit and longing swallowed her whole, but she managed to fight it back with the long years of practice in being alone.

Within the hour, she found herself tucked neatly in Michael’s Alfa Romeo, racing down the narrow, twisting roads heading toward the lake. He’d changed into faded jeans and a casual black shirt. His hair blew loose around his face, occasionally masking his expression from her sight and adding that pirate sexiness that appealed to her baser side. Her tummy fluttered and her panties grew damp. She shifted in her seat and pulled her mind from the gutter.

“What are we going to do?” she asked bluntly. “Have you even thought this whole thing through? Are we going to tell Alexa and my brother? What if your family visits the States? What about Venezia’s wedding?”

He gave a deep sigh as if she worried about nonsensical items instead of a marriage. “Let’s not worry about that now, cara. I think we need a night alone to work out some things between us.” His pointed look held a smoldering undertone of lust. She fought a shiver. Damn him for controlling her with sex. She’d always been the one in charge, and that’s the way she liked it. Maybe it was time to turn the tables.

“Sorry, silly female that I am. Why worry about such things as vows to God and divorce? Let’s have some fun. Oh, I know a great subject to talk about. Your mother told me you used to race cars.”

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. Bull’s-eye. Guilt pricked her conscience as he seemed to struggle with his words. “She told you, huh? We never talk about that anymore,” he murmured. “I raced when I was young. My papa got sick, and it was time to head the family business, so I gave it up. End of story.”

He seemed calm, but the sudden distance in his demeanor told her emotions simmered beneath the surface. She softened her voice. “You were good. You could’ve gone pro.”

“Probably. We’ll never know.”

The wind whipped her hair and the scenery whizzed by. “Do you resent having to give it up?” she asked curiously. “You never wanted to run La Dolce Famiglia, did you, Michael?”

His profile reminded her of carved granite. A muscle worked in his jaw. “Does it matter?” he asked. “I did what I had to do. For my family. I have no regrets.”

Her heart squeezed and broke open. Without thought, she slid her hand across the seat and grasped his. He threw her a startled look. “Yes, it matters. Have you ever even recognized and mourned the loss of something you loved? Not your father. Your dream. You were getting close to something you’d always wanted and suddenly it was ripped away from you. I’d be severely pissed off.”

She got a chuckle from him but he kept his gaze on the road. “My papa and I had a difficult relationship,” he admitted. “He looked upon my racing as a dangerous, selfish hobby. Eventually, he pushed me to choose—my career or the family bakery. I chose the circuit, so he told me to leave. I packed my stuff, went on the road, and tried making myself a name. But when I got the call that he had a heart attack, and saw him so frail and sick in the hospital, I realized my wishes weren’t as important as I originally thought.” He shrugged. “I realized sometimes others have to come first. As Papa once told me, a real man makes decisions for everyone, not just himself. I owed it to everyone to make the business work, and I did. In a way, I have no regrets.”

She stared at him a long time “Do you miss it?”

He tilted his head as if considering her question. Then shot her a grin. “Hell, yes. I miss racing every day.”

Dear God, this man was going to break her apart. Not only was he honest, he never viewed his self-sacrifice in any negative manner. How many men had she dated who whined about anything that didn’t please them or fit perfectly into their own wants or needs? No, Michael held a core of beliefs she’d never experienced with another lover. “Your family is lucky to have you,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Just squeezed her hand as if he’d never let her go.

They reached the vacation home a few hours later. Maggie inwardly laughed at the Contes’ version of a rental. The elaborate mansion held its own helicopter pad, lagoon, gardens, and hot tubs. Ivy climbed over the massive brick walls and matching clock tower surrounded by jungle greens and elaborate gardens. The cobblestone path led up a massive staircase where an open terrace held comfortable rocking chairs and was connected to a full bar. Polished marble, brightly colored mosaic tiles, and rich chocolate browns and gold made up the color scheme. A warm breeze flew through the rooms from the open windows, and the scents of lilac and citrus flooded her senses.

Her heels clicked on the gleaming tile as Michael grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the bar, then led her upstairs. One door opened up to a huge bedroom with a king-size platform bed. The balcony doors were opened as if they were expected and the room was already prepared. A full bouquet of bloodred roses sat on the high table, serving as the centerpiece of the room. She walked over the rich Oriental carpet, admiring the carefully placed antiques and fine white lace curtains. Then she realized her husband stood to the side, hip propped up against the bureau, studying her from across the room.

Maggie swallowed. Suddenly, a rush of pure terror overtook her. This whole thing was too much—the bed, the wedding, and her realization of her true feelings for her count. The ground broke beneath her and she scrambled for footing. Her nails curled into her fists in an urge to grab for leverage. Damned if she’d let her voice shake like a virginal bride. She chided herself for this type of behavior and straightened her spine.

“Do you want to go to dinner?” she asked.

“No.”

The blood thickened in her veins. His lip quirked upward in a half smile, as if he sensed her sudden awkwardness.

She stuck her chin out and refused to break his gaze. “Do you want to go for a walk in the gardens?”

“No.”

“Take a swim?”

“Nope.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide the obvious thrust of her nipples. “Well, what do you want to do? Just stand there making googly eyes at me?”

“No. I want to make love to my wife.”

Grief ripped through her. His wife. God, how she wanted it to be real.

“Don’t say that,” she hissed. Maggie grabbed on gratefully to the anger that burned in her blood. “I’m not really your wife and we both know it. You promised to leave me alone. No sex.”

He closed the distance and took her in his arms. The concern and tenderness on his face broke her in two. “La mia tigrotta, what is wrong? I would never do anything you didn’t want.” He stroked her hair back from her face and tipped her chin up.

“This is a lie.” She blinked back blinding tears, enraged at her weakness before him. “We’re a lie.”

His breath rushed over her lips and he kissed her gently, slipping his tongue inside to tenderly mate. She longed to fight him but her body weakened under each hot stroke and his musky scent. She opened for him and gave back, digging her fingers into his shoulders as every carved muscle pressed against her curves.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Inky dark eyes seethed with a blistering heat that seared through her and crashed every ounce of resistance. “No, Maggie,” he said fiercely. “This is not a lie anymore. We are not a lie. I want to make love to you, my wife. Right now. Will you let me?”

His honor came first, and Maggie knew only a shake of her head would force him to his own separate corner. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Why did she want this man so much after only a few hours of being in his arms? He’d destroy her.

He waited for her decision.

Her body and mind warred, but deep inside, the tiny voice triumphed. Take what you can get now and you’ll have the memories. She’d survived much worse. But she didn’t think she could survive pushing him away tonight.

She dragged his mouth to hers. He kissed her completely, his tongue tangling with hers as he carried her to the bed. Each movement melted into the next as he stripped off her clothes and explored every part of her body with hands and mouth and tongue. She moaned as he brought her to the brink, stopped, then stripped off his own clothes and started again. She writhed and begged until finally he parted her thighs and paused at her entrance.

As if sensing her innate fear, he immediately rolled her to the side without question, grabbed her hips, and pulled her down onto his shaft.

He filled every aching crevice and she cried out and began moving, frantic for release. His hands rubbed her breasts, flicking the tips, and with one final scrape against her clit she exploded into a thousand pieces.

He cried out her name as they rode out the orgasm, until she collapsed on top of his chest. His arms came around her and he whispered in her ear. “This is real.”

Maggie didn’t answer. Her heart wept, and her lips trembled to burst out the words inside of her, screaming to be free. I love you. But the taunting whisper reminded her of the only truth she’d ever known. Not forever. No one could love you forever.

So she said nothing. Just closed her eyes and slept.

Michael sat beside the bed with two flutes filled with champagne, watching her sleep. Odd that only yesterday, he’d claimed her for the first time. Usually, once he slept with a woman he cared about, the edge of need dulled a bit more at each encounter, each day, until nothing was left but a lukewarm friendship they both couldn’t do anything with. But now, looking down at his new wife, a sense of excitement and rightness coursed through his blood. The same exact feeling he’d embraced on the track, the call of the unknown with a deep knowledge he was meant to drive a race car.

Maggie was meant to be his.

He knew this now. Accepted it. Realized he needed to make some careful moves if he was ever going to convince her they could have a real marriage. Funny, how love seemed this distant, magical thing in the future until you wanted it so bad, you actually pretended feelings were there that never were.

Now he knew. All along, he’d been waiting for Maggie Ryan.

He’d sensed the connection that night of their blind date. Her wit and kick-ass sexuality pummeled him like a sucker punch. She fascinated him on every level, but the lure of something deeper and more permanent sang in his blood, so he’d frozen in fear. He knew once he made love to her he’d never want to let her go. And she was everything he believed he didn’t want in a wife. He sensed she’d stomp his heart to tiny pieces, and he’d never recover.

He’d thought of her many times throughout the year, but always pushed her image to the back of his mind, convincing himself they would be an impossible couple. Now, it seemed every step led straight to Rome.

She was his soul mate.

He just needed to convince her.

But in order to do that, he needed to break down some walls. Michael took a deep breath at the task ahead. He’d been thinking of the right course of action to take, but it was a risky move. He wanted to reach her on a deeper level, and her constant unease with him taking control in bed told him she owned secrets that needed to be told. Could she ever trust him enough to share? Could she ever completely surrender?

He was about to find out.

She opened her eyes.

He smiled at that sleepy, satisfied look as she stretched against the pillows. The sheet fell and offered him the tempting sight of her perfect breasts. She grinned. “See anything you like?”

She’d put him in an early grave, but he’d go to heaven with a smile on his face. He shook his head and handed her the glass of champagne. “The letter C stands for all the items needed in life,” she said. “Coffee, chocolate, and champagne.” She sighed with contentment and took another drink.

Michael leaned back in the antique floral chair and smirked. “Aren’t you missing the best letter of all?”

“What’s that?”

“S. For sex.”

Her grin grew wider and more satisfied. His erection rose to full staff and he shifted in the chair. “Oh, Count, when are you going to learn all the American words?” she drawled. “C is also for climax.”

He burst out in laughter and shook his head. “Cara, you are amazing. Both in and out of bed.”

“I try.” She sipped her champagne, but Michael sensed her guard already solidifying. He needed to move at a steady pace and keep her off balance.

“Maggie, do you like being in control?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He kept his gaze steady but she refused to lift her head. “Not at all. You’re a strong woman and you wouldn’t have made it this far in life without such a quality. I just wondered how you felt about being dominated in bed.”

She gasped and her head shot up. “Why? Do you like domination?” She shuddered. “I’m not into that sub stuff, Count. I’ve read those BDSM novels but whips just don’t do it for me.”

Dios, he was nuts about her. “No, cara, I’m not into pain, either. It seems you prefer to control the lovemaking, which is fine, but I wonder if you’ve ever truly surrendered.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I surrender every time I climax. What are you getting at?”

He went to the bathroom, tugged two of the sashes from the luxurious white robes, and returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Getting kinky?”

He sat beside her. “Do you trust me, Maggie?”

Wariness skated over her features. “Why?”

“Do you?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I do trust you.”

Relief coursed through him at the raw honesty in her voice. “Thank you. I’m asking you to let me do something to you.”

“What?”

“Tie you up.”

A strangled laugh escaped her lips, but it lacked humor. “Tell me you’re joking. Can’t we just have regular sex?”

“Yes. But I want more with you. I want to give you so much pleasure you explode. I want you to be able to let go, on your own terms. I’m asking you to trust me enough to surrender your control for tonight. If you get uncomfortable, tell me to stop and I will. Will you do this for me?”

She sat up and stared at the ties, biting down hard on her lip. “I don’t know if I can give up control,” she admitted.

“I think you can.” A smile touched his lips as he dangled the ties out in a teasing gesture meant to calm her nerves. “We can have some fun. I always dreamed of tying up my wife. You can make my fantasy come true.”

He waited patiently while she thought the scenario out. Emotions warred and fought for dominance. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll try.” She blew out an annoyed breath. “But only because you have some bondage fetish I think you need to get out of your system.”

He laughed. With deliberate motions, he tied her wrists together over her head with one sash, and with the other, he wrapped them around the post by the headboard. She tugged, and he made sure there was plenty of slack so she wouldn’t feel trapped. Just enough to allow her the freedom to let go. His arousal simmered at her naked body.

“Now what?” She blew the hair out of her face and frowned.

Michael grinned at her cranky expression, straddled her, and looked down.

All humor left him in a rush. She was gorgeous—all sleek curves and muscles. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed her deep, plunging into her mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out in a precursor of what he planned to do to her. When he released her lips, she breathed hard, and her eyes misted with arousal.

He took his time. He nibbled and sucked on her nipples and let his hands drift over her belly, her hips, then slide behind her to cup her ass and spread her legs wider. His fingers paused on the nub begging for his touch, then plunged into her channel.

She cried out and pulled at her ties. He pushed her higher, using two fingers to sink into her wet heat while his thumb flicked at her clit. Every muscle beneath him quivered with anticipation, and she writhed on the bed.

“Damn you, untie me! I want to touch you.”

“Not yet, cara. I am having too much fun with my fantasy.”

She cursed him and he laughed, dipped his head, and tasted her.

She came hard. Her scream ripped from her throat, and he allowed her to ride out the wave. When she surfaced, her flushed skin trembled helplessly underneath him. He pushed her thighs wider apart and drove his penis in with one solid thrust.

He gritted his teeth and prayed for control. Her channel clenched him in a tight vise, and spasms shook her body like ministorms. He filled her completely and pure pleasure exploded within him. Slowly, he pressed her down into the mattress.

“Michael.” Her glazed eyes suddenly shone in panic, and she bucked beneath him, tugging at the restraints with a frantic motion. “Don’t.”

The rawness of her fear made him second-guess himself. “Look at me, mia amore. Look into my eyes and see who I am.”

Her focus sharpened as she gazed deeply into his eyes. Her pupils dilated in recognition, and inch by inch her muscles relaxed, allowing him further access. Tears swam in her eyes. He kissed her tenderly, his thumb wiping away the tear that trickled down her face.

“I love you, Maggie. It’s never been Alexa, and it never will be. I’m in love with you.”

He moved. Each motion claimed her for himself, told her of his emotions and need for her to belong to him. The last of the fight eased from her body and she matched him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into his back as they climbed higher and higher. She exploded beneath him and he let himself go. The unbearable pleasure wrecked him, overtook him, and threw him over the edge. When the storm finally passed, Michael realized his life would never be the same.

And he didn’t want it to be.

He loved her.

The words echoed over and over in her head. Sometimes as beautiful as opera. Sometimes with a cackle of merriment and mocking. Either way, she needed to deal with it, but Lord knows she was too freaked out at the moment.

She flexed her now freed hands. He held her with more tenderness than a man had ever shown her. His lovemaking seemed less about kink and more about giving her everything, and asking for the same.

She swallowed past the words bubbling up on her lips and remained silent. Just three simple words, but they were the most difficult words she could think of to utter. His sweat-dampened skin pressed against hers, solid and real. He’d given her a gift that had no price. Trust. Somehow, with her being tied up and forced to surrender, she learned to trust another human being.

He dropped a gentle kiss to her tangled hair. “Thank you for giving me your trust. I want to know all of you, cara, but I can wait.”

His patience rattled her foundation. Why did he seek more than her body? His confession he never loved Alexa rang clean and true. Perhaps she’d always sensed the truth but didn’t want to lose her final obstacle. Now there was nowhere to run, yet she couldn’t say those three words he needed.

Maggie closed her eyes and gave him the only other gift she had left. Her truth.

“I was sixteen. I was crushing majorly on the cliché of all clichés—the quarterback of the football team. Of course, he barely noticed me, but I did all the usual girly things to gain his attention. One day, he came over and talked to me. Days later, he asked me out. I was giddy and believed we’d finally be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

His hand stopped stroking her hair. Slowly, he turned to face her in bed. She felt his gaze caress her, but she stared up at the ceiling as the events unwound before her vision.

“I made myself up with lots of makeup. Short skirt, lots of cleavage showing the little I had. I had no one to chaperone me at the time, so I came and went as I pleased with no rules.

“He took me to a movie, then back to the school at the football field. We sat on the grass and looked up at the moon. I was so happy. Until he pushed me down on the ground and stuck his hand up my shirt. You see, I was all talk and no action. I’d never dated a guy before, never even had a crazy make-out session. I let him do some things because I thought it was the right thing to do. Until he pulled down my skirt.”

She gulped a breath, and his hand clasped hers. He waited in silence as she struggled, but his warmth slowly seeped into her skin. “He raped me. Afterward, he rolled away, stood up, and said he was disappointed. Told me I’d been looking for it with my clothes and my attitude. That if I told anyone, I’d be the laughingstock of the school. I got my clothes on and he took me home. When he got to my house, he told me thanks for the good time. Let’s do it again.

“I got out of the car and my mother was watching television in the living room. I went straight over to her and told her the whole story.”

The events of that horrible night rolled over her, but this time, someone lay beside her. This time, someone cared enough to listen.

“My mother laughed and told me I got what I asked for. Said to get on birth control, get smarter, and deal with it. Then she walked away from me.” Maggie ripped her gaze away from the blank ceiling and turned toward him. “I didn’t know what to do. Felt like I could go insane. I took the next few days off, then went back to school. And when I passed him in the hall, I just nodded a hello. The pregnancy test came back negative. I got on birth control. And suddenly, I realized I had two paths before me and I needed to choose.

“I could hide my sexuality behind baggy clothes and never feel comfortable being physical with a boy again. Or I could push past it and own my own stuff. Somehow, I realized I could get pleasure from sex, but it would be up to me to set the terms. I’d be sure something like that would never happen again.”

Her heart pounded on the verge of an attack. “I decided I wouldn’t let that bastard take away who I was. I dressed the way I wanted, and I controlled who I had sex with from that time on. When I wanted, where I wanted, and how I wanted. But sometimes, when a man is on top of me, something flashes back to that time and I panic. I hate it, but I can’t seem to control that part of my memory. Until now.”

Michael reached out and tucked her head against his chest. Strength and heat and safety wound its way through her with a seamless grace that took her breath away. “I am so sorry, cara. I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have pushed in such a way.”

She shook her head hard. “No, I’m glad you did. Now, I’m not afraid.”

He sucked in a breath, and she realized he trembled beneath her. Slowly, she raised her head to look into his face.

Fierce pride and raw fury shimmered in his eyes. His hands were as gentle as a butterfly as he stroked the hair back from her face. “For someone to hurt you like this makes me question what is fair and right in this world. But you, mia amore, took such an event and gained strength. You made your life on your own terms with no one to help. You humble me.”

She bit her lip and lowered her head back on his chest. His words echoed in the silence of the room and exploded the last brick of the wall guarding her heart. He didn’t comment on the tear that fell upon his chest.

That made Maggie love him even more.