fingers
closed over hers, guiding her hands to her sides.
“No. Keep your
hands right here until I tell you to move.”
Clare watched in
the mirror as he grasped the collar of her robe and gently peeled the garment
over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. Her nipples
pebbled, and her breasts grew heavy.
He stood behind
her, his hands on the bunched fabric at her elbows. “My God, Clare. You are….”
He shook his head. “Beautiful. Magnifica. Glorioso .”
The blended
romantic languages that were his heritage strummed at her heartstrings.
“The words aren’t
enough, bella.”
She glanced at the
reflection of her breasts then up to his face. His lips were parted, his eyes
dilated and fixed on her chest. A fire burned in the dark orbs, tempting her to
believe.
“They’re just
breasts,” she asserted. Maybe a little above average in size, but nothing
special.
“No.” He shook his head then reached around her to
cup each one in the palm of his hands. Heat seared through the delicate skin.
He held her breasts as if they were precious possessions. “They’re femininity.
They’re a symbol of womanhood. They’re a wonder of nature—a God-given gift meant
to entice and nurture.”
She had never felt
as cherished as she did in that moment. This gorgeous specimen of a man thought she was beautiful.
“Put your hands
where mine are,” he instructed, guiding them into place. “One day soon, I hope
you’ll offer your breasts to me, but for now, just hold them. I like to see
them in your hands.”
Holding her
breasts felt awkward until she caught a glimpse of Antonio’s rapt expression in
the mirror. She’d hold them all day, every day, if he would continue to look at
her with desire in his eyes. His hands fell to the tie at her waist, and his
fingers slowly and expertly worked the knot loose. Her robe fell open,
revealing her worst features. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the
look of disgust on his face when he saw her round belly and plump thighs.
He splayed his
hands across her abdomen then moved lower, trailing fire everywhere he touched.
“Open your eyes,
Clare.”
She shook her head
and bit her lower lip. His thumbs brushed her mound, and his fingers rested on
her upper thighs.
“Okay then. Let me
tell you what I see.”
She wanted to run,
to tear herself out of his arms, and yank her robe closed. She wanted
desperately to hide from Antonio, from the world, from herself. For a moment,
she had believed she was beautiful, but he was asking too much of her. Hot
tears formed behind her eyelids. The way he held her, his arms trapping her
elbows where she had no choice but to cradle her own breasts, made it
impossible to wipe the tears away. They slid from the corners of her eyes, and
she added shame to her growing list of humiliations. Knowing he was a member of
Bases Loaded seemed trivial now. No way would he and his friends want a cow
like her.
“Please, let me
go,” she begged.
“Not until you
open your eyes and hear me out.”
“I can’t,” she
whimpered.
His hands stroked
her belly. “You can, and you will.”
He continued to
caress her. His roughened hands abraded her soft skin and made her weak with
wanting him. His heat surrounded her like a warm blanket, enticing her to give
in to his demands.
“I’ve never seen
such beauty,” he crooned, his voice stroking, arousing, as surely as his hands.
“You’re everything a woman is meant to be.”
His hands skimmed
her hips, down to her thighs, and up over her mound. “I’m just a mortal man,
and your body calls to mine. You’re Eve. A woman built for a man. Built to
pleasure a man, to bear his children.”
His fingers
slipped between her feminine folds and stole the last shreds of her
self-respect.
“Please,” she
begged, but for what, she didn’t know. For more? Or for him to let her go?
“You have the body
of a Madonna, and there isn’t a man in the world who doesn’t want to have
closed over hers, guiding her hands to her sides.
“No. Keep your
hands right here until I tell you to move.”
Clare watched in
the mirror as he grasped the collar of her robe and gently peeled the garment
over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. Her nipples
pebbled, and her breasts grew heavy.
He stood behind
her, his hands on the bunched fabric at her elbows. “My God, Clare. You are….”
He shook his head. “Beautiful. Magnifica. Glorioso .”
The blended
romantic languages that were his heritage strummed at her heartstrings.
“The words aren’t
enough, bella.”
She glanced at the
reflection of her breasts then up to his face. His lips were parted, his eyes
dilated and fixed on her chest. A fire burned in the dark orbs, tempting her to
believe.
“They’re just
breasts,” she asserted. Maybe a little above average in size, but nothing
special.
“No.” He shook his head then reached around her to
cup each one in the palm of his hands. Heat seared through the delicate skin.
He held her breasts as if they were precious possessions. “They’re femininity.
They’re a symbol of womanhood. They’re a wonder of nature—a God-given gift meant
to entice and nurture.”
She had never felt
as cherished as she did in that moment. This gorgeous specimen of a man thought she was beautiful.
“Put your hands
where mine are,” he instructed, guiding them into place. “One day soon, I hope
you’ll offer your breasts to me, but for now, just hold them. I like to see
them in your hands.”
Holding her
breasts felt awkward until she caught a glimpse of Antonio’s rapt expression in
the mirror. She’d hold them all day, every day, if he would continue to look at
her with desire in his eyes. His hands fell to the tie at her waist, and his
fingers slowly and expertly worked the knot loose. Her robe fell open,
revealing her worst features. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the
look of disgust on his face when he saw her round belly and plump thighs.
He splayed his
hands across her abdomen then moved lower, trailing fire everywhere he touched.
“Open your eyes,
Clare.”
She shook her head
and bit her lower lip. His thumbs brushed her mound, and his fingers rested on
her upper thighs.
“Okay then. Let me
tell you what I see.”
She wanted to run,
to tear herself out of his arms, and yank her robe closed. She wanted
desperately to hide from Antonio, from the world, from herself. For a moment,
she had believed she was beautiful, but he was asking too much of her. Hot
tears formed behind her eyelids. The way he held her, his arms trapping her
elbows where she had no choice but to cradle her own breasts, made it
impossible to wipe the tears away. They slid from the corners of her eyes, and
she added shame to her growing list of humiliations. Knowing he was a member of
Bases Loaded seemed trivial now. No way would he and his friends want a cow
like her.
“Please, let me
go,” she begged.
“Not until you
open your eyes and hear me out.”
“I can’t,” she
whimpered.
His hands stroked
her belly. “You can, and you will.”
He continued to
caress her. His roughened hands abraded her soft skin and made her weak with
wanting him. His heat surrounded her like a warm blanket, enticing her to give
in to his demands.
“I’ve never seen
such beauty,” he crooned, his voice stroking, arousing, as surely as his hands.
“You’re everything a woman is meant to be.”
His hands skimmed
her hips, down to her thighs, and up over her mound. “I’m just a mortal man,
and your body calls to mine. You’re Eve. A woman built for a man. Built to
pleasure a man, to bear his children.”
His fingers
slipped between her feminine folds and stole the last shreds of her
self-respect.
“Please,” she
begged, but for what, she didn’t know. For more? Or for him to let her go?
“You have the body
of a Madonna, and there isn’t a man in the world who doesn’t want to have
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