AllFreeNovel
Share Us
All the frustration I’ve felt since meeting him dissolves into this fiery passionate moment and, damn me, I find myself touching his chest. I press my hand over his left pec and allow my fingers to glide across the hard ridge.
In response he intensifies the kiss, and the place between my thighs throbs for him, wanting him to touch me there. Kiss me there.
The thought shocks me, but not enough to stop me from kissing him back or letting him kiss me harder.
Nothing I’ve ever done has felt like this. As if my soul is free and flying into the heavens, going up and up and up without restraint. Like I’m living. Selfishly living.
His massive erection suddenly digs into my belly and I remember what his cock looks like again. Except this time my mind and body betray me and I find myself thinking about what he would feel like inside me.
But suddenly Hunter pulls away, and the wild sexual charge between us snaps.
The walls of whatever we just built between us crumble and I’m left with the reality that Hunter just kissed me. And I kissed him back.
The truth immobilizes me, keeping me in his grasp. I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t. He keeps me there, inches away from his lips, as if he might kiss me again.
And shit, I know I’d let him if he wanted to do it. Among other things.
“If I wanted your sister I would have had her already.” He keeps his voice purposely low, as if to give his words more power. It works. “But I wanted you, Bellissima.”
With that declaration he releases me, steps out of the sphere of lust, and walks away, leaving me there staring after him.
With my lips still burning from the passion and need in his kiss, I watch him until he walks out of the dining room. Then I find myself with a different sort of problem, because Ryan’s kiss never felt like that.
No one’s has.
What a cruel twist of fate that this man who is to become my husband is the first to actually make me feel like this.
Wanted. Desired.
Scared.
Chapter 11
Hunter
Imarch down the corridor, still feeling those piercing blue eyes of my bride burning into me.
What must she feel now?
Shock and desire? Or does she want more like I do?
Could she tell that I was seconds away from either lifting her onto the table or shoving her up against the wall to fuck her brains out?
I don’t know how I stopped myself, but I do know that Luna Bianchi doesn’t hate me anymore.
Hate wouldn’t allow her to get so mad at me when she mentioned Alexis’ name, nor would it allow her to investigate me in the first place.
Hate certainly wouldn’t allow her to kiss me like she’s been starving for me or dying to taste me for centuries.
If she still thinks she hates me it’s because every touch—and now that kiss—pushes her closer to the rude awakening that whatever she feels for Ryan is only in her head.
Nevertheless, it’s still a problem. One that continuously grates on my fucking nerves more and more, regardless of how temporary I want this marriage to be.
My things are mine. Not to be shared with anyone even if I possess that thing, or that woman, for a day.
I always get what I want but my control dwindles in this situation of shit where puppy love is screwing with me.
That’s what stopped me from ripping her clothes off and taking her right there. The thought of him—Ryan.
