Read Online Amedeo, Her Italian Billionaire by Susan Westwood - Free Book Online Page A

Amedeo. She’d never trusted anyone this much. As he slid into her, it took away her breath for a moment.
    No barriers. Just the two of them. In his office. He set up a pace keeping her just on the edge of her orgasm. She wanted to reach out and grab it. She pushed back to take him deeper.
    Oh. There it was. Her body clenched, her fingers curled into fists. Yes. Yes. Yes. She sailed off the cliff her orgasm going on and on. She heard him grunt and come with her over that edge.
    When her body finally stopped spasming, she rested her head on his desk. He chuckled.
    “You are beautiful from every angle.”
    Amedeo didn’t lie. She knew that, but part of her just couldn’t believe that she looked beautiful on her best days, let alone with her large ass in the air. She stood as he stepped away from her.
    He took her, leading her to his private bathroom. “You can shower if you want.”
    She nodded. “I’ll be in and out.”
    “It’s fine.”
    He washed himself with a cloth then left her to her shower. Damn. He was hot and sexy and all hers. For now. Would he feel this way when she was large with child? She doubted it. She glanced down at her still flat stomach. When would she look pregnant?
    She had no idea. She should probably get a book to tell her all of this. She’d never been a girl dreaming of children. Most of her friends from high school were on their third baby with their third baby daddy.
    She’d wanted no part of that, instead, choosing to stand on her own. Never relying on a man. Ironic that she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock and was relying on that man.
    Still it chafed at her, but she had no choice. If he wanted her to bring this pregnancy to term, he’d have to pay for it since she couldn’t afford it.
    She steeled herself for the fact that at some point, Amedeo would want nothing to do with her.
    ***
    Amedeo woke in an empty bed. They’d made love again at bedtime and fallen asleep naked together. He had to admit he was beginning to like it. Waking up to someone. Coming home to someone. Who would have thought? He’d never considered himself that domestic and his broken engagement had been somewhat of a relief.
    Was that because of Tory or him?
    He shook his head. He didn’t know.
    Hopefully, Violet wasn’t regretting their decision to become lovers. Women usually couldn’t handle the physical without the emotional. He hopped into the shower and cleaned himself off. He didn’t feel like shaving today. He always kept a little scruff on his face.
    He whistled as he dressed, wondering where Violet had gotten to. She wasn’t rethinking what they’d done? Damn,” he thought, better find her and do damage control. Talk her off  the ledge. Not just for his own satisfaction but for his own sanity.
    He sniffed. He smelled breakfast. Breakfast burning maybe. He scrambled down the steps to the kitchen. Smoke billowed off the pan. Violet stared at it in horror. Amedeo put a lid on the pan to smother the fire then turned on his kitchen fan to get the smoke out of the kitchen.
    “I was trying to cook pancakes,” Violet said.
    She wore an apron and had a spatula in her hand. Her face looked like a little girl who had lost her puppy. A frown tilted her mouth and wrinkled her forehead. Oh. My. God. Was she going to cry?
    “It’s okay. I don’t eat pancakes very often anyway,” he said.
    “So you wouldn’t have eaten them anyway?”
    He had the distinct feeling that one wrong word and she might explode. He put up his hands, approaching her with the same care he’d approach a ravenous tiger. “Of course I would have. If you made them I’d eat them. How about I make breakfast?”
    “Because I can’t?”
    “No, that isn’t it. I just want to make you breakfast. You cook so much for me.”
    “I suck at cooking. I don’t know how you eat it.”
    Oh. Shit. This was going downhill fast. Some women he could just throw his credit card at them and they’d take it and run. Retail therapy. This