8
KATERINA
I hate that I’m so weak.
Not only have I let him take me, at his father’s funeral gathering, no less, but that even now, his body still inside mine, I can’t push him away.
“Luca… there’s no point in this?—”
“There doesn’t have to be.” His hands are on me again. His lips trail along my neck. “Life is short. Enjoy moments like this while you can.”
I feel him swelling inside me and that delicious friction builds again.
“You feel so fucking good, Katerina. So fucking good.”
He’s not wrong. It does feel good.
To be held. To be desired. To be touched like this.
It hasn’t happened since he left. Don Lorenzo had discussed marrying me off to someone, but I argued that no one would want to take on my child.
He surprised me by backing down and not forcing the issue.
Maybe that’s why I’m powerless to push Luca away at this moment. I miss feeling like this and he’s the only who ever has made me feel like this.
“Yes… fuck…” His body crushes against mine, his breath hot on my neck as pleasure tears through me like lightning.
I bite down on his shoulder to stifle a moan that would surely alert the mansion to what we’re doing.
"Look at me," Luca commands, and I can't resist.
Our eyes lock as the waves crash over us both again. I'm falling, drowning in steel-gray eyes that have haunted my dreams for seven years. His fingers dig into my thighs, keeping me pinned against the wall as we ride out the storm together.
I hate how perfectly we still fit.
How my body remembers his.
How even after everything, he can still make me feel like I'm breaking apart and coming together all at once.
We stay locked together, our harsh breathing the only sound in the room.
His forehead rests against mine, our bodies still joined, trembling from aftershocks.
"Katerina." He whispers my name sweetly against my lips, and for one fleeting moment, I let myself believe this means something.
But it doesn’t.
Reality seeps back in.
"Let me go," I demand, not meeting his eyes.
His grip tightens. "Never again."
I push against his chest, needing space to think clearly. "This was a mistake."
"The only mistake was staying away for seven years." His thumb traces my lower lip.
“But you did.” I straighten my dress with shaking hands. "This changes nothing."
