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And I want more.
I’m vividly, keenly aware of every place his warm flesh touches mine—fingers along my scalp, his nose to my cheek, his mouth to my ear. Every place he brushes feels hot, and yet I long for more. I move closer to him. My breathing hitches.
I move even closer to him and sigh, relishing the way he holds me, the way his lips touch mine with exploration and hope. This isn’t the brutal kiss of before, where he forced himself on me to prove that he owned me. No, this one’s lighter, gentler, still intense but without the hidden edge of a threat. It’s sensual and carnal and erotic. My heart beats wildly in my chest when he grips my hair tighter.
The pain melds to liquid heat that pools between my legs, and when I gasp from the rough pull, he massages his fingertips where it hurts. I sag against him, grateful for his warmth and strength. I’m boneless and pliable when he does this to me.
His plundering kiss flirts like a tease when his lips soften, the flutter of butterfly wings before his tongue meets mine again. The deep guttural groan he tears from me startles me. By the way his hand on my back flattens, I can tell that he likes that.
I want to please him. I want to heal him. I want to ease that anger in him until he’s as yielding as I am. I know what a man like him battles, and I want to claim his victory.
The ride is too quick, as we glide to a stop outside his Tuscan home. When he pulls his mouth off mine, he groans in reluctance.
I sit, blinking, a little shell-shocked. I’ve never been kissed like that before. Ever. A pang of memory burns then quickly fades.
He taps on the window that divides us from the front of the car.
“Si, signore?”
“Tutto fuori.” I blink in surprise as he goes on in Italian, ordering everyone out, even his gardener and housekeeper and bodyguards.
He’s just directed every single member of his staff to take the day off.
My heart begins to race.
Now that I didn’t expect. When I was with Piero, we found our way to each other. We founds little pockets of space and privacy where no one ever knew where we were.
What will Tavi do to me when he has me alone?
“Si, signore.”
“Come here.” Tavi tugs me onto his lap so my ass is nestled in his crotch. His erection presses against me. I grind myself against him like a wanton whore, just to hear him groan.
Ah, yes. Just like that. Thread by thread, I pull a little control back from him.
I like the feel of his warm, rough palms on my thighs, like little brands reminding me what he can do with those hands.
“Tell me, Elise.”
I squirm when he calls my name. I’m not sure why. It feels deeply intimate, maybe, like we’ve gone through every step of this process on hyper speed and now he’s circling back to the way things should have begun.
“Tell you what?”
“Everything. I want to know what you like. What you want. What you need.”
It takes me a second to register his request. I’m a little shocked. The painful grip on my leg reminds me he’s expecting an answer.
“Like… in life or in bed?” I look up at him, and my heart beats madly. I sometimes forget how handsome he is.
A corner of his lips tips up. “For now, I want you in bed. So start with the bedroom. But later, when you’re lying with me naked, we can talk about life stuff.”
He says it like it amuses him. I suppose he’s never done anything like this before. Aw.
“What do I like in bed?”
“Yeah, lovely,” he says, while we watch one member of his staff after another exiting the house. “I know you’re not a virgin.”
My cheeks flush pink. “How do you know that?”
Without warning, his eyes flash at me. “Because no fucking virgin ever kisses like that. And I will punish you for that.”
Another throb of my pulse. “For what?”
“You know the rules. You come to the marriage bed undefiled. Virginal.”
I look away from him. It’s a serious offense, and I won’t pretend otherwise. If circumstances weren’t what they are, he could refuse to marry me and demand my father pay up another way.
But my father’s dead, and Tavi wants me to pay. Marriage to him is punishment, my time in purgatory, and he won’t let me forget it.
I swallow, but my throat’s dry. I’m not sure if he’s baiting me.
When I don’t answer, he slaps my thigh hard then grips where he slapped. I gasp at the sudden pain. Yanking my chin up, he makes me look into his eyes.
“You will learn to answer a question when I ask it. Do you understand me?”
