Page 33 of The Mafioso’s Bride

“I still want what I asked for.”

Luca

Giada stands between my knees with both palms against my lapels. “I still want what I asked for.”

I close my hands around her wrists. Her skin is warm. Her pulse beats fast beneath my thumbs, but the rest of her body stays loose.

“You left a crowded ballroom less than an hour ago.”

“Yes.”

“You were overwhelmed.”

“I’m not overwhelmed now.”

I hold her where she is. “You don’t owe me sex for taking you home.”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t an apology for leaving.”

“I already told you I’m not apologizing.” Her brows pull together. “Do you need me to list my reasons again?”

“No.” I release her wrists and rise. “I need to be certain.”

“Ask me what I choose.”

The correction lands cleanly. I deserve it.

“What do you choose?”

“I choose to have sex with you. All of it. I want your penis inside me, and I want to sleep in your bed afterward.”

My restraint narrows to a single choice: trust her answer. I put one hand on her waist and warn her before the other closes around the back of her neck. “We’re going upstairs.”

“Good.”

I kiss her. She opens under my mouth, tasting of Earl Grey and sugar. My hold tightens when she presses her body against mine.

“Harder,” she says.

I take her mouth harder. She pulls at my jacket until I strip it off and leave it across the chair. Her fingers go to my shirt buttons.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

She opens them with care that tests what remains of my restraint. At the last button, she spreads both palms across my bare skin.

“Your heart is fast.”

“My wife is undressing me.”

“You’ve had other women undress you.”

“None of them were you.”

I take her upstairs with my arm firm around her waist. At my bedroom door, I stop.