Page 20 of The Mafioso’s Bride

My fingers press into soft flesh as I move my palm higher. I stop before reaching the center seam.

Her hips push forward. “More,” she repeats.

“Tell me where.”

Pink spreads over her cheeks, but she takes my wrist and moves my hand between her legs.

“There.”

I rub her through her pants with two fingers. Her whole body tightens over mine. She looks down at my hand between her legs, following each stroke.

“I’m going to press harder.”

“Yes.”

I stroke her through her trousers. Her forehead comes down against mine, and her hips follow my fingers in short, urgent movements.

“Luca.” My name from her mouth tests the last of my control.

I kiss her, keeping the same firm rhythm until she tears away.

“I want your fingers inside my pants.”

I stop. Her eyes lift to mine. “Was that the wrong thing to ask?”

“No.” My hand remains against her thigh. “It’s exactly the right thing to ask.”

“Then why did you stop?”

Because if I put my fingers inside her, I won’t want this to end on a sofa. I’ll carry her upstairs, put her in my bed, and take everything she offered me on our wedding night out of duty.

I take my hand from between her legs and settle it on her hip.

“Luca.” Anger sharpens her face. “I said I wanted it.”

“You did.” I hold her hips with firm pressure so ending the sexual contact doesn’t become rejection.

“I was honest.” Her fingers bunch my shirt again.

“I believe you. On our wedding night, you said sex was the next step and a husband was entitled to it.”

Her mouth closes.

“Any choice about sex needs to come from what you want, not what you believe a wife owes her husband. Wanting my mouth, my hands, or my cock are separate choices. I won’t make one answer cover all three.”

“I’m attracted to you.”

“I believe that too.” The admission does nothing to cool my blood.

“Your penis is hard.”

“Painfully.”

Her gaze drops between us. “So stopping is unpleasant for both of us.”

“Very.” I move her off the hardest part of my erection.

“That doesn’t make sense.”