She was speechless, her emotions tumbling over one another. She was so afraid. Every part of her wanted to say yes, but she didn’t know if she should. She wished he’d take over and answer for her, say what she wanted to say.
“I love you, Sophia.” He kissed her lips softly and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, inhaling her addictive scent.
One of his hands framed her face and the other pushed into her hair. His eyes were flaming as the intense emotions he was feeling swirled in them. “You saved me. You redeemed me. Since you left, I haven’t slept. I can’t work. I can’t live without you. When you said that you needed some time to think, you plunged a knife in my chest and left my heart bleeding, Sophia,” he whispered. “I felt you slipping through my fingers but I will never let you go. Never. You are mine, Sophia. My woman. My love.” He tilted her head back. “And I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Sophia.”
She felt like closing her eyes, but the passionate love that resounded in his green depths was too wondrous to not be enjoyed. Too precious to be thrown away. Too rare not to be treasured.
When Sophia married Gabriel she was barely a woman. She had loved him, yes, but with Alistair she had known a more mature love. Stronger, deeper.
She really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. An epiphany hit her. This is what I’m going to lose if I say no. A passionate man that loves me and that I love like I have never loved before. A treasure. I have to trust this is going to work. Her hazel stare clashed with his emerald green one. It’s all a matter of trust.
This is your last chance, Sophia. He returned her stare, waiting. Oh. Christ, man! What are you saying? You know you will ask again and again until she accepts. The moment was suspended in air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Say yes!
Okay, Sophia, this is it. Suddenly, she could think no more, she knew what she felt.
Sophia mustered all her courage and cupped his jaw with her hand and whispered on his lips, “I love you, Alistair Connor, meu amor.”
A sudden light flooded his body and soul, pulverizing to dust the remaining shields he had built over the years, leaving him dazzled at the brightness of his feelings. He blinked, too startled to believe his ears.
I love you. Those three words were Alistair’s undoing. She loves me. She. Loves. Me.
He drew her gently into his arms and his lips closed over hers in a loving kiss. Alistair was all feeling.
Breaking the kiss, he breathlessly asked on her lips, with his eyes closed, “Say it again.”
“Eu te amo, Alistair Connor. I love you,” she murmured. “And... Yes... Heaven help me, us... I will marry you.”
Amen. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to shout it to the world. He opened his eyes and looked at her. My Beauty. Mine.
“Give me your hand, please,” he asked, as happy as he had ever been in his whole life. He gently held her hand and he could feel her pulse beating as unevenly as his. He took off the Cartier ring and slipped on his mother’s on her slim finger.
She held her hand up and watched the diamonds flash in the afternoon light. “It’s perfect,” she breathed, “as you are. I hope I’ll always be worthy of your mother’s memory.”
“You are and you will.” He stood and held out his hand, inviting her to join him.
He framed her face in his big hands and slowly dropped his head to kiss her. He let himself be surrounded by her familiar taste and her scent.
“Alistair Connor,” Sophia moaned, her arms encompassing his waist. How could I ever think of saying no? How could I ever think of living away from you? “Make love to me.”
In a heartbeat, their kiss changed from gentle to ravenous, her fingers tangled in his hair and his free hand found her breast.
Sophia had missed his lips, his hands. His touch sent a shock through her spine.
She wanted him to undress her, to rip her clothes off, to fling her on the bed and have his wicked way with her. Her hands untied her caftan.
But he would not let her have her way. He stopped her.
He wanted this to be good. Perfect. He would spend his whole life showing her how much he loved her.
One of his hand cupped her nape and slanted her head so he could have better access to her mouth, while the other caressed her breast.
Ever so gently, his hands lowered her caftan and swimsuit to her waist, baring her shoulders to his mouth.
The sheer material of her caftan floated down on to the floor, skimming her legs, sending jolts of awareness over her skin. The erotic sensation made her moan.
His green eyes flashed with lust and love, telling her exactly what he was feeling as he helped her out of the swimsuit.
The warmth of his chest scorched her, heightening the melting sensation that always came over her when he was in charge. The blood in her veins heated up to burning lava.
Sophia’s hands encompassed his neck, bringing him even closer, her breasts tickling his muscular chest. Softness and hardness. She slipped her tongue along his bottom lip and bit it, returning his soft kiss, drawing his hard body onto hers, inviting, inciting. She needed to quench her thirst; she needed to fill the void his absence had left.
He broke the kiss, to have a better look at her, running his fingers tenderly over her face, reconnecting, admiring.
For a moment that seemed to last forever, there was only the sound of their breathing and the thud of his heart, roaring in his ears. He had never felt this freedom, this unfettered happiness which he recognized for what it really was.
This is what so few find at the end of the rainbow. Bliss. Utter bliss. Undiluted, unconditional love. “I love you.”
The masculine smell of him overwhelmed her and his body called to her. His lips hovered over her face in a gentle caress, casting a spell over them. The pleasure his lips demanded from her coursed through Sophia’s veins. It snatched her up. It spiked her senses. It brought her home.
“Please,” she moaned and arched beneath his hand, her nipple had tightened to a firm bud. Incandescent fire spread through her veins.
“There is no hurry.”
“You always say that,” Sophia complained as his fingers stroked, gently kneading until his thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple.
He laughed, delighted and traced her jaw with his tongue, nibbling at her earlobe and whispered, “Slow is better.”
His mouth moved down her throat and to her collarbone, where he paused to take a small bite, in a sensuous and sinful caress that drew a loud moan from her.
She tugged on his hair, “Fast is good too.”
“Greedy, wanton woman,” he murmured on her lips. Hesitantly, he touched her back and she moaned softly on his lips, encouraging him and took his mouth in a deeper and lustful kiss.