What's happening to me? Hours ago, I was determined to freeze him out, to make this marriage a frigid business arrangement. Now I'm spreading my legs wider as he positions himself behind me, desperately needing him to fill the emptiness inside.
"Ask for it," he commands, his voice rough with desire as he teases my entrance.
“Why don’t you ask for it?”
He gives my butt a slap that shocks me and makes my body hum. “I did ask. Now it’s your turn.”
My behind stings slightly, and I can’t believe I’m not incensed. “Please. I need you inside me.”
When he pushes in, I cry out at the delicious stretch, the slight burn of oversensitivity only heightening my pleasure. His hands grip my hips as he sets a punishing rhythm that has me clutching the sheets.
I hate how much I love this, hate how easily he's made me surrender. I hate that beneath the resentment and anger lies something more dangerous. I’m growing to want this man who one minute can be charming and then the next cold and cruel.
I want to remain distant yet find myself craving not just his body but his approval, his attention, his... everything.
The hours blur together, a haze of pleasure and need that is beyond anything I could have imagined.
By the time we finally collapse in exhaustion, my body is deliciously sore. I trace my fingers over a bruise forming on my hip. There's something almost beautiful about this physical manifestation of passion. No one has ever wanted me with such fierce intensity before.
Alessandro stirs slightly beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. Even in sleep, he seeks to possess me. The gesture should irritate me. Instead, I lean into his warmth.
Warning bells sound off. Giving in to him physically is one thing. But allowing myself to think this could be something more is dangerous.
I was prepared to endure a loveless marriage. I wasn't prepared for this pull that makes me want to seek pleasure and safety in his arms, even as doing so requires me to surrender myself.
What happens when the honeymoon ends? When we return to New York and back to real life? Will he go back to being the cold, distant man of the last week, except for when he needs a physical release?
Sadness takes me by surprise. Right now, I feel alive, and yet I’m also lost, confused, and even in Alessandro’s arms, I feel alone.
20
ALESSANDRO
I wake to another body pressed against mine. For a moment, I’m disoriented until the events of last night flood back.
Isabella.
My wife.
She's curled against me. Sleep has softened her features, erasing the guarded expression she wears. She looks so young. So vulnerable. Guilt rises, but so does a fierce protectiveness.
Mine.
The sheet has slipped down, revealing the curve of her shoulder, down along her side to her hip. Small bruises from my fingers appear on her skin. Redness from where my lips suckled show where I’ve marked her as mine. The memories of last night filter through my awakening mind and begin to stoke the need to have her again.
I trace my finger along her shoulder, savoring the softness of her skin. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake as she presses closer to me.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She was meant to be a business transaction, not an all-consuming need that shatters my control.
I lean down, unable to resist pressing my lips to her shoulder. My hand slides over the curve of her hip, remembering how it felt to grip her there as I drove into her.
Her breath catches, though her eyes remain closed. I know she's hovering on the edge of wakefulness, and I should stop. Let her rest. She'll be sore from last night's activities.
Instead, my mouth travels to her neck, then the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her moan last night. My restraint crumbles as my hand moves to cup her tit, feeling the nipple harden against my palm.
What is it about her that destroys my self-control? I've had beautiful women before. I've had passionate nights that left me satisfied. But this need that borders on desperation is crazy. Terrifying. Electric.
I roll her onto her back, watching as her eyes flutter open, confusion giving way to recognition, then to heat. This woman who challenges me, who resists me, who surrenders to me… she’s becoming my weakness. It’s all the more reason to stop.
