“We’re under the stars. I can’t think of a better place.”
Jesus, she’s going to be the death of me.
"I just want..." She hesitates, vulnerability flashing in her eyes. "I want a choice in this. Everything has been decided for me. Who I marry, when I marry, what I wear. Let me choose when I give myself to you."
11
ISABELLA
His face softens then hardens as he weighs my request. I can see the battle raging in his dark eyes.
It’s a heady feeling to see how he wants me, while simultaneously disheartening to know that he can resist me.
Of course, I understand the hesitation. While there’s no love lost between my family and his, crossing this line with me now would be seen as an act of disrespect so large, it could result in war.
The fact that I’ve asked him to cross that line boggles my mind.
I've spent my entire life being told what to do, how to behave, what to wear, and now I've thrown caution to the wind, asking this dangerous man to take my virginity on a rooftop a week before our wedding.
My father would kill me, and that’s not hyperbole.
Yet I don't regret asking. For once, I want something to be my decision.
"I know what I'm asking. I know what it means if anyone finds out." I press my palm more firmly against him, feeling emboldened by his barely contained groan. “But what about what I want?”
Alessandro's eyes darken, and I see his control begin to slip. His hand moves to my face, thumb brushing my lower lip with exquisite tenderness. “What you want isn’t in question. It’s when.”
I want to challenge him, to taunt him by saying he’s afraid of my family. But that would be childish.
And of course, there’s so much riding on our marriage, so many men whose lives are in the balance for this peace to work.
His breathing changes as I more boldly rub the hard length behind his slacks. I’m desperate to see him. To see what effect I have on him. To know that he burns with need like I do. Even after he’s already touched me in ways no one ever has before, I want more. I want it all.
"Isabella—" he starts, his voice strained.
"If you won't take me fully tonight, then at least show me how to please you." I squeeze my hand around him.
His eyes flash.
My hands hover at his belt, desperate to feel him. "Teach me, Alessandro. Show me what you like."
"Your father?—"
"Isn't here." I step closer, pressing my body against his.
For a heartbeat, I think he'll refuse. Push me away. Be the responsible one. But then his hand covers mine at his belt, guiding me.
"You have no idea what you're asking," he murmurs, but there's heat behind his words.
"Then show me." I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. "I may be inexperienced, but I'm not afraid. Not of this. Not of you."
His expression shifts. In his eyes, I see a decision being made.
And I know I've won.
His hand engulfs mine, warm and steady, as he leads me toward a plush lounge chair nestled between flowering plants. The city lights twinkle below us, the stars twinkle above, but my focus narrows to this man, this moment.
"Last chance to walk away." His voice is rough with restraint.
