The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(25)
Author: Natasha Anders

“God,” he finally whispered. “Oh my God, Theresa… that was amazing.” Theresa, who was only now coming back to herself tensed at his words but he seemed not to notice, still stroking her, kissing her, whispering little endearments and half-finished Italian sentences into her hair. In a year and a half, during which time they’d had sex on average four times a week and at least twice a night on each of those occasions, this was the first time… ever that Sandro hadn’t recited his standard mantra.
He shifted slightly, to arrange her more comfortably against him, one arm tucked beneath her head and the other resting heavily across her breasts. His fingers formed lazy circles on the overheated skin of her upper arm and he had his head on the same pillow as hers, so close she could feel his still-unsteady breath feathering through her hair. He occasionally dropped soft kisses onto the sensitive skin beneath her ear and along her delicate jawline.
Theresa was tensing more and more in his arms, not sure how to react to all of this. First the kisses, then the shattering sex, then the absence of those five words and now this unprecedented display of affection. It was as if, just when she’d found a way to protect her already battered, bruised and fragile heart from him, he found some other way around her defences, leaving her vulnerable to even more pain.
He was still whispering into her ear, half-broken Italian words that she didn’t understand at all, trying to pull her closer but Theresa resisted, finally snapping out of the half-trance that she had been in. She could not let him do this to her… not again! He had hurt her too many times in the past, with his careless disregard, his other women and his contempt for her. She would not allow him into her heart again. Finally clueing in to the fact that Theresa was not as into the cuddling as he was, Sandro lifted himself up onto his elbow, resting his head on his hand and looking absolutely gorgeous in all his naked splendour.
“Cara, what’s wrong?” She nearly laughed out loud at the ridiculous question before struggling in earnest to escape from beneath his heavy arm. For a few seconds his hold tightened but he finally raised his arm and allowed her to scurry off the bed.
“The sheets are soaking wet,” she said breathlessly, refusing to meet his eyes. “I need to change them.”
“Leave it for the maid in the morning,” he grinned lazily.
“The cleaning service doesn’t come in on a Saturday and besides, I can’t sleep on a wet bed.”
“Don’t be silly, Red,” he admonished gently, sitting up gracefully. “You’re sleeping with me in our bed!”
“I’m not,” she shook her head adamantly and his grin widened indulgently.
“Stubborn cat,” he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood up with the lethal grace of a predator, stalking her languidly. “Of course you are.” Theresa backed away but he pounced before she could get very far, his hands on her shoulders, applying just enough pressure to keep her from fleeing.
“Look at me,” he demanded softly when she kept her eyes glued to his chest. When she refused he muttered something beneath his breath before lifting one hand from her shoulder to tilt up her jaw until her eyes met his. Whatever he saw in her defiant gaze made his eyebrows lower and his eyes darken.
“I’m trying to fix this, cara,” he finally whispered, the words almost torn from him.
“You can’t,” she shook her head sadly. “This… whatever it is… it’s irreparable.”
“Why?” He shook his head slightly in confused frustration.
“Because everything you do now feels insincere and forced!” She hissed in sudden fury. “Every touch, every apology, every endearment… it’s like you brushed up on the ‘Theresa Noble User Manual’ and learned what makes me tick!”
“Firstly, it’s Theresa de Lucci and secondly, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” He practically shouted, shaking her slightly.
“The kisses for one,” she itemised.
“What?”
“A year and a half of marriage, Alessandro and tonight was the first time you’ve ever kissed me,” she pointed out. “You must have realised how much it hurt me to know that you despised me so much that you couldn’t even bring yourself to kiss me.”
“That’s not…”
“So of course tonight,” she interrupted him; not at all interested in whatever it was he had to say. “After making me feel so special by finally doing me the honour of introducing me to your friends, this is when you decide to sweeten the pot with a few of your kisses! It probably struck you as a pretty effective way to keep the bitch muzzled and content, right?”
“You’re misreading the entire situation, cara.”
“Don’t call me that! I am not your darling… I’ve never been your darling and I’m not going to be naïve enough to fall for your so-called charms again!”
“What do you want from me?” He suddenly demanded in frustration, releasing her shoulders so abruptly that she stumbled and fell. He froze in horror, staring down at her with a look of such abject misery, contrition and despair on his face that she almost felt sorry for him. She sat up and stared into his distressed face.
“I want a divorce,” she whispered and he sank down to his knees beside her, lifting a hand to caress the curve of her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I’m so sorry for more things than you could possibly imagine… but that’s the one thing I can’t give you.”