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Axel kept his arm around my waist and hugged me close, his fingers gripping me tighter than necessary, like I would slip out of his grasp and disappear. When the appetizers were finished, we sat down to dinner, and Axel spoke to the diplomat about politics—politics outside of Italy, in places like the UK and France and even the United States. He was well-informed on international news, like he read multiple newspapers every single morning.
When dinner was finished and the plates were cleared away, Axel’s hand moved to my thigh.
He didn’t even seem to notice what he did because he did it in mid-sentence. His fingers dipped into the crease between my crossed thighs, his fingers just underneath the edge of my dress. His hand was warm and comfortable against my skin, but it made my heart race in a panic. It excited me but also scared me.
I was scared of how much I liked it.
How could I crave the touch of someone who hurt me so much?
When the night was over, we got into his car and headed home. It was late, almost eleven, so the streets were empty. Casually, like he did it without a second thought, he moved his hand over the center console and rested it on my thigh, returning it to the same place it’d been after dinner. His fingers were warm like the sun, and his fingers rose up my dress like he wanted to cup my thigh in the perfect spot.
My heart did all sorts of things, somersaults and spins, but also tried to run away.
With one hand on the wheel, he drove home through the quiet streets back to his villa. Well, our villa. The engine roared every time he hit the gas after a red light, the illumination from the dashboard highlighting his handsome face and casting shadows underneath his hard jawline. But when the light hit his blue eyes, that was really something.
He pulled into the garage then we got into the elevator.
Just as casually as he did in the car, he grabbed my hand and held it as we rose to the entryway. He stood close to me, eyes on the screen, pretending this was normal when it was the most affection we’d ever shown.
The doors opened, and we entered the quiet house. Up the stairs we went, my hand still gripped by his. My heels turned muffled once we hit the carpeted hallway. Instead of moving to the end where his bedroom was located, he stopped in front of my bedroom to drop me off.
He looked at me.
I could feel it. I could feel everything.
It was just a stare, but it contained so much more. Passion. Desire. Desperation. Without saying a word, he told me what was coming, and if I didn’t want it, now was the time to speak up.
I tried to put up my walls and block him out, but I couldn’t. My body couldn’t do it anymore. My mind and heart had been at odds with each other for so long, but living with this man every day had weakened my resolve. I knew what he’d done was wrong, but when I looked into those beautiful blues, I saw more than his transgression. I saw a man who was kind and honest, a man who would keep his word—even though he’d already broken it.
He moved forward, making me step back into the closed door. He came closer until we were just inches apart, his face above mine, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows because he was somehow hot on a winter night.
He slid one of his muscular arms around the small of my back and got a grip so tight that I couldn’t flee. He would normally grab my ass at this point, but he kept his hand in a respectful area. He dove his other hand into my hair, pushed it from my face, got it tangled in his fingertips because he dug so deep.
My fingers gripped his wrist at my neck, and I stopped breathing.
He forced my chin up, forced my stare to lock on his. Then he glanced at my lips, drew in a slow breath as he admired them. “Baby, I missed you.”
The words were out of my mouth on their own, my heart betraying my mind. “I missed you too?—”
His lips took mine in a swift defeat. It was a soft landing but packed with the kind of passion that made his fingers grip my hair tighter, pulling at the scalp slightly. He tightened his arm around my waist, lifting me to him slightly, forcing me to rise on my tiptoes even though I was already in heels. The kiss was soft and delicate, his lips handling mine like they were fragile pieces of glass. But then his mouth turned aggressive, taking my lips with ownership as he pressed me into the door.
