“I’m married,” I say. “Does that change things between us?”
He remains mute, but the energy in the air seems to skyrocket, every molecule pulsing with perilous intent. I feel him. His barely restrained fury. The anger rolling off him like an avalanche of heat. The man is a molten core beside me. His essence wants to incinerate me and char everything else. He’s beyond mad. Yet, he keeps up the charade.
“My husband…he’s…a very complicated man.” My voice seems to echo in the otherwise silent room. “He blackmailed me into marrying him. Not because he wants me, but because he wants something from me.” I pause, hoping I’ll provoke him into a reaction. Hoping my words will push him to confess who he is. Nothing. There’s nothing, as always.
“You see, to him, people are expendable. He uses them how he sees fit. Or simply eliminates them if they are in his way. He doesn’t care about anyone. Not me, not any other living creature on earth. He wouldn’t do a single kind thing for someone unless it benefited his plans.”
Like finding a trivial kitchen spice for an insignificant girl because she likes it. Or choosing not to demolish a certain building.
A man with a frozen heart would never do any of that.
“He is nothing like you.” I turn to face him even though I can’t see him. “Maybe that’s why I dreamed of you on my wedding night. Dreamed about our kiss.”
His body goes stone-still beside me, as if every muscle in him seized. But he stays silent. Stoic. In control. Around me, there are fewer than a handful of times when he lost that battle, and one of those was when we kissed.
I’m not even sure if what we shared could be called a kiss. It was a devouring, pure and simple. He consumed me like a starving man presented with his first meal in ages. As my silentguest, Adriano touched me as if he desired me, craved me. But outside of this room, the man has never indicated any attraction, any affection for me.
“Do you ever think about it?” I lean a bit closer. “About that kiss?”
A beat. A breath. Then another.
“No.”
A growled whisper. Angry.
And a blatant lie.
I know because I feel his breath on my lips. Warm. Rapid. As if our faces are only inches apart.
“Oh.” I tilt my chin up. “Then, maybe, we shouldn’t meet again.”
Hard, demanding lips collide with mine, stealing my breath.
I gasp, kissing him back. Welcoming his onslaught and raining my own. My heart rate takes off at the speed of light. Surpassing the insanity of our first kiss.
Two unyielding hands capture my waist, and the next thing I know, I’m straddling Adriano’s lap. My arms find their way around his neck, fingers threading through those silky strands, anchoring me while our lips continue their ravenous battle. A rush of adrenaline zips through my body as he grips the back of my neck in a steely hold, locking me in place as if worried I will pull away. That hold is relentless. Possessive. Fierce. Just like his siege of my mouth. Being kissed by my husband is like being caught in the epicenter of an earthquake. Experiencing the rampage, an epic fury, and a complete loss of control. My panties are soaked with the proof of my insatiable need for more. For him. Experiencing Adriano losing his precious restraint like thisis more potent than any aphrodisiac I know. And I want more of it.
I fist a handful of his hair. Squeeze the strands with all my might while I rock my hips, grinding my core over the prominent bulge in his pants. Right under my pussy. Irrefutable evidence that he lied. The first lie he ever told me—denying that he’s thought about our prior kiss.
I know it. Feel it in my heart. My bones.
I bite his lower lip, punishing him for that lie, even though he doesn’t know it. My teeth sink in hard enough to almost draw his blood. Instead of anger, instead of pulling away, his dick swells in response against my needy core. His palm shifts from the back of my neck to the front, and for a single breath, his fingers around my throat tighten. He bites back, while cutting off my air supply, and then he releases me.
His large hands glide up my thighs, setting every inch of my skin on fire as he pushes the silky material of my dress up my legs. Heat flows from his palms toward my core while he reaches for my soaked white lace panties. A low, almost animalistic groan leaves his lips as he slips his thumbs under the fabric, pressing them to my throbbing pussy.
A shudder shimmies through my entire body from that simple touch. I gasp when he starts to tease my sensitive flesh.
My mind blanks as he delivers his slow, sensual strokes around my clit, applying just enough pressure to drive me to the brink but not over it. His scorching, hungry lips continue to feast on me as he ratchets that need in me higher and higher. There isn’t a trace of his familiar, frigid indifference. No ice. Only liquid fire. And I want to burn in his flame.
Just one more caress, and I’ll explode because of his masterful touch. I’m ready, so ready, but the pressure of his fingers on my pussy is suddenly gone.
“No,” I protest, biting his lower lip, pressing myself to him harder. “I need mo—”
He tears the panties off my body with one forceful tug. Breath leaves my lungs in fast bursts as his palms glide over my bare skin. Slowly. Palming my ass. Kneading my cheeks. I’m reduced to a panting mess while his fingers slide along the crack toward my quivering pussy.
“Madness,” he whispers, his voice so deep and husky that it doesn’t even sound like his own. “Pure, sweet madness.”
A loud moan explodes from my throat when he slides his finger inside, filling my core with his wraparound reach.
