My eyes drop to her mouth, full and soft, and the memory of our wedding kiss floods me. The taste of her, sweet and warm. Theway she'd melted into me. My cock throbs, and I shift, trying to rein it in.
I want to take her, roughly, viciously. But I know I have to be careful with her. I don't want to scare her away. I want her to unfurl, to give herself to me, not because I demand it, but because she wants it.
She steps back, her hands tightening on her robe, pulling it closer. But the fabric betrays her, clinging to her damp skin, outlining the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.
My throat closes up, my hands itching to touch her, to peel that robe away and feel her warmth. I take a step closer, slow, deliberate, watching her eyes for any sign of fear. There’s none. Just molten heat, and something softer, something that makes my chest ache.
“Liliana,” I say again, softer now, and her gaze flicks to my lips, her breath hitching. I’m close enough to feel the heat radiating from her, to smell the lavender lingering on her skin. My fingers flex, aching to reach for her, but I hold back. I’ve never been gentle, never had to be, but for her, I want to be. I need to be.
I lift my hand slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. My fingers graze her cheek, soft as a whisper, and her eyes flutter, her lips parting further. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through me, and
I step closer, my body brushing hers. Her robe is thin, barely a barrier, and I feel the warmth of her through it, the soft give ofher skin. My cock pulses. It's hard and heavy, but I force myself to focus on her, on the way her breath catches, the way her eyes search mine.
I lean in, my lips brushing hers, tentative at first, testing. She doesn’t pull back. Her lips are soft, warm, tasting faintly of mint, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, coaxing her open.
She yields, a soft sigh escaping her, and I groan low in my throat, the sound vibrating between us. My fingers tangle in her hair, loosing themselves in the lustrous strands. Her hands find my chest, fingers curling into my shirt, and I feel her trembling, not from fear but from want. Dio, she’s unraveling me as much as I’m unraveling her.
I pull back, just enough to see her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice hoarse, my hands framing her face. I need to hear it, need to know she’s choosing this.
Her hands rise, trembling, and she signs, Yes.
My heart stumbles. I search her eyes, looking for doubt, but there’s only fire that seem to burn brighter. “I love you,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
I've never spoken truer words. I love her. I've loved her ever since I saw her in her father's study. I married her under the pretense of protecting her, but honestly, it was love at first sightfor me. She instantly healed a part of me that I thought would always be raw.
Her eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face, and I know she doesn’t trust it, not yet. But I’ll show her. I’ll make her believe it. I'll make her see herself from my eyes, the way I see her.
I kiss her again, harder this time, my lips claiming hers with a hunger I’ve held back too long. She presses closer, her breasts soft against my chest, her hips brushing mine, and I groan, my cock aching, straining against my trousers.
My hands slide down her neck, her shoulders, finding the tie of her robe. I pause, giving her a moment, and when she nods, her eyes locked on mine, I tug the knot loose.
The fabric parts, revealing her skin, pale and perfect, her breasts full, nipples tight and pink. My breath catches, my fingers trembling as I push the robe off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.
She’s bare before me, and I’m lost. Her body is a revelation, soft curves and delicate lines, her skin glowing in the lamplight. I see the flush creeping down her chest, the way her hands twitch, like she’s fighting the urge to cover herself.
I step closer, my hands skimming her sides, slow, reverent. “You’re perfect,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear, and she shivers, her hands gripping my arms.
I lift her gently, carrying her to the bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin as I lay her down. She looks up at me, her eyes wide, trusting, and it undoes me. I’ve never wanted anyone like this, never felt this need to worship every inch of her.
I shed my shirt, my boots, my trousers, until I’m bare, my cock hard and heavy, the tip glistening. Her eyes catch on the raven tattoo, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. They trace the wolf tattoo on my bicep, then they drop and immediately widen. I see the flicker of nerves, the way her thighs press together. She's green. I didn't need to ask, I know. I kneel on the bed, my hands gentle as I part her legs, my fingers tracing the soft skin of her inner thighs.
“I’ll go slow,” I say, my voice rough with restraint. “Let me know if it’s too much.”
She nods, her breath hitching, and I lean down, kissing her again, soft and deep, my tongue curling around hers. My hand slides up her thigh, finding her center. She's slick and warm. She’s wet, so wet, and I groan, my fingers slipping through her folds, teasing her clit.
She gasps, her hips bucking, and I circle slowly, watching her face, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting in a silent moan.
I’ve fucked before, hard and ruthless, but with her, I’m careful, every touch measured. My fingers slide lower, pressing gently at her entrance, and she tenses, her hands gripping my shoulders.
“Relax, cara,” I murmur, kissing her neck, sucking softly at the pulse point.
I ease one finger inside, slow, feeling her tightness, her warmth, and she whimpers, her nails digging into my skin. I move gently, letting her adjust, curling my finger to find that spot that makes her arch, her breath coming faster.
“Giovanni,” she signs, her hands trembling, and hearing my name in her silent language breaks something in me. I add a second finger, stretching her carefully, my thumb circling her clit, and she moans, a soft, throaty sound that sends a jolt straight to my cock.
She’s so tight, so new, and I’m fighting every instinct to take her hard, to claim her in the way my body demands.
I pull back slightly to look into the deep blue of her eyes. I nearly drown in their depths. I lean over her, my body covering hers, my lips brushing her ear. “I want you,” I say, my voice thick. “But only if you’re ready, cara.”
