I narrow my eyes into lethal slits and glare all my hurt and anger at him. "You don't get to say things like that."
My voice fractures on the last word. "You don't get to stand there looking broken and beautiful and say the exact right thing while I'm trying to hate you."
"Then hate me."
A sputter of protest falls from my lips when he picks me up and holds me to him. He takes my mouth in a hard kiss and I feel the very second I lose the battle.What battle?That voice pipes up again, and this time I agree.
The hard planes of his muscles force my body to mold to him.
He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine.
"Hate me for what I planned. Hate me for the file and the lies and every morning I kissed your belly knowing I was keeping secrets that could destroy us. Hate me for all of it. But don't you dare pretend what we have isn’t real, because I have lied about many things, Ilona, but loving you was never one of them."
The anger and the want collide so hard I can't breathe. The line between fury and desire dissolves the way it always does with this man. Every damn time.
“Luca, I don,’t?—”
“Don't say anything else. Just feel my love for you. Everything else will fall into place.”
His mouth is on mine and my fingers are fisting the front of his sweater and the taste of him crashes through my defenses with the devastating familiarity of coming home to a house you thought had burned to the ground.
The kiss is not gentle. It's a war conducted with teeth and tongues and desperate, clinging hands. He tastes like coffee and regret and the kind of hunger that comes from weeks of starvation.
I devour him with equal ferocity, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him groan, fisting his hair to drag his head back, punishing him with my mouth because the words ran out and the fury needs somewhere to go.
His hands grip my hips and lift me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me the three steps to the bed and lowers me onto sheets that smell like Luna's lavender detergent rather thanhis sandalwood. The wrongness of the scent makes me pull him closer, needing his skin against mine, needing to replace this unfamiliar bed with the only familiar thing I have left.
"I'm still angry." My fingers yank his sweater over his head, revealing the panther and the viper and all the dangerous art I've traced with my tongue and my tears. His skin is warm beneath my palms, the muscles rigid with tension, the dark hair on his chest rough against my fingers.
"Be angry." He pulls my sweater dress up and over my head with hands that shake, his breath catching when the full curve of my belly is revealed between us, bare and round and undeniable. His palm presses flat against the swell, his fingers spreading wide, and the reverence in his touch makes my chest crack open despite the fury still burning in my blood. "Be furious. I'll take every bit of it."
I drag him down and we collide.
This is not the reverent worship of our reunion after the gala.
This is desperate and raw and combative, two people fighting with their bodies because their words drew blood and the only way to heal is through contact that hurts just enough to feel like honesty.
He pins my wrists above my head and I arch into him, biting his shoulder when he presses his hips against mine. His groan vibrates against my throat as his mouth finds the pulse point he knows makes me lose my mind, and the scrape of his overgrown beard against my sensitive skin sends sparks cascading down my spine.
He grips the sides of my panties. A frilly beige thing that matches the color of my dress.
Above me, Luca thumbs the soft material. “These are pretty, jungle flower, but not needed.” He yanks on either side and the lace rips, falling to the sides. He tosses the lace aside and kneels in front of me. He places my feet on the edge of the bed and spreads me wide. His mouth devours my pussy and he groans the second his tongue slips between my folds.
I moan, too, knowing he found the pool of hot liquid he causes at the slightest touch waiting for him. “Sweetness, and all mine.”
He sweeps his tongue over my dripping hole. He swirls the pad of his thumb over the nub and I’m instantly bowing off the bed.
“Luca!” I scream, uncaring of who hears me. My body has been starved for my husband’s touch and now that it has it the climax that shoots through me is fucking glorious and instant. Heat unlike anything I've ever felt rages through me. I don’t get to see when he strips but when the bed dips and he moves between my thighs I push up to my elbow.
His heavy cock drips with precum. Fat and swollen, the head begs for me to lick it.
Luca points the tip at my pussy and swirls all those juices dripping from the crown through mine.
“Luca.” I wrap my legs around him and press my heels into his ass. I raise my hips to meet his throbbing cock. “Fuck me, Luca. Ruin me for all other men all over again.”
“Fuck, woman. You’re all mine,” he roars and sinks until his heavy balls slap against my ass. My walls clamp around him and hold him inside me.
The stretch and fullness of him filling spaces that have been desperate to feel him is glorious. He stills inside me, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath ragged and hot against my lips.
