Page 86 of Claimed At First Sight

My hand moves faster until the pressure becomes unbearable.

“Fuck,” I groan as I let go.

My cock jerks in my hand as ropes of cum mix with the water raining down on me. Bracing my arms against the marble tiles, I rest my forehead against them as I work to regain my breath.

I haven’t come this hard in a long time.

But this wasn’t a loss of control. Merely pressure demanding release.

My heart is still pounding and I want more. The real thing. Mia in my bed. Ideally, her stomach rounded with the next Marco heir.

The thought has me hardening all over again.

Christ.

I won’t allow myself a second round, though. I have more discipline than this.

Turning off the water, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist.

This situation has dragged on long enough. Seeing Mia tonight seems to have only sharpened the urgency instead of easing it.

I want her installed at my side, instead of her fleeing every time I get too close.

I grab another towel to dry my hair.

Very soon, Mialina Accardi is going to stop fighting what’s inescapable.

Then I’ll have her beneath me, and I have no doubt she’ll take just as much pleasure in her surrender as I will in claiming it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mialina

I’m lying in bed, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, still far too wound up to sleep.

God, I’m furious with myself that I nearly kissed him… again.

As soon as we got back to Aldo’s, I removed Maximo’s flowers from my room. I couldn’t stomach one more reminder of him.

The last thing I need is to wake up to his smug floral arrangement silently insisting my resistance is temporary, and it’s only a matter of time until he gets what he wants.

I wanted to throw the bouquet into the trash, but I couldn’t do it to the flowers. They’re innocent in all of this.

So I relocated them to a console table near Aldo’s office. Let Maximo’s consigliere enjoy them instead.

I’m unlikely to wander there, which means I won’t have to look at the flowers ever again.

My gaze drifts to the clock on my nightstand. It’s almost eleven. I should be exhausted after traveling halfway around the world, but sleep refuses to come.

Mamma didn’t need much convincing to return to Aldo’s. My sisters were exhausted, and I couldn’t rejoin the party after wandering across Maximo’s estate through the snow until the hem of my dress was damp and filthy.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to walk back. Maximo had a car waiting to return us to the mansion in blissful warmth.

I didn’t speak to him during the three-minute drive. I just stared out the window, pretending not to notice his gaze on me the entire time.

Which was difficult, considering the air inside the car was as charged as it had been in the conservatory.

I still can’t believe it. The man built me a damn glasshouse. An entire hidden world of warmth and flowers in the middle of a Chicago winter.