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Samara
I didn't know who Lino arranged to shop for me, but I had the distinct impression that he didn't peek at the outfit they'd chosen before handing it over to me. Even before we'd delved into foreign territory, he had hated when I dressed up for work or to go out. I always thought it was because he didn't like to be reminded that I was a woman, given the platonic nature of our friendship.
I questioned that in hindsight.
But I knew he wouldn't want me to go to Indulgence dressed in this. It made me love the outfit even more.
Whoever she was, she’d decided to put me all in white, and I had to wonder if it was Lino's request to make me feel bridal. I hadn't had the opportunity with our wedding, despite his adorable attempt to give me a moment of it with the dress. He had no way of knowing that the big wedding Connor and I had the first time around had been at his insistence. I had zero interest in a big bridal affair.
So the thoughtful nod to our new marriage with the white, I wanted to believe it had been at Lino's insistence. So I let myself think it, even if he refused to let me out of the house once he saw me.
The strappy heels on my feet were nude, blending in with my fair skin perfectly and had just enough substance to cover the edges of the scars where they curled up from the bottoms of my feet. A double banded gold cuff on my bicep and a matching bracelet on the opposite arm were the only jewelry I wore.
No color, and it made the dark copper of my hair seem to shine brighter for it. A high-waisted, skintight white pencil skirt encased my hips and down to below my knees, and I was grateful it was an amazing quality and thick enough fabric to not be transparent as it stretched taut over my ass and thighs.
The top was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, baring a sliver of my midriff above the skirt, and an intricate balance of nude fabric and white lace that stunned.
"Samara!" Lino yelled from downstairs. "We need to talk before we go. I don't want to be late."
"Coming!" I called back, grabbing the clutch off the bed that held my phone and lipstick. With a deep sigh, I opened the door and went downstairs to greet my husband. Something about the moment, him waiting for me to get ready for his work event, felt domestic. It made the fact that we were married, regardless of the fact we hadn't consummated it, that much more real.
He stood by the island in the kitchen, sipping whiskey from a tumbler and looking delectable in his blue suit. Only a confident man could pull off a suit that was just slightly brighter than the navy I typically saw in blue suits, but Lino managed. His olive skin offset the color perfectly.
"Hi," I whispered, stepping into the kitchen. His head snapped up, drawing up my legs and to my face slowly in a slow burn that I felt spread from my toes to the top of my head.
He swallowed, tossing back the rest of his drink so quickly that I chuckled. "You can't wear that," he growled.
"Sure, I can. It's a nightclub, this is more covering than most of the dresses that will be there," I argued, planting a hand on my hip. "Besides, you bought it."
"Yes, but—"
"Angelino Bellandi," I warned him. "I can promise you I am not going to change. This is what I'm wearing. If you don't want to be late, then I suggest you get your balls in hand and say whatever it is you're putting off."
He snorted, but his eyes darkened as he set the tumbler down on the counter and stalked toward me. "If we don't want to be late, then I highly suggest you not talk about anything to do with my dick, Little Dove." I swallowed when he stopped to stand directly in front of me, his fingers touching the side of my neck and trailing down to tease the bare skin of my shoulder and over my arm.
"You're stalling," I
breathed, resisting the urge to arch my neck into the touch. His hands on me, such a simple touch, shouldn't be enough to make my brain scatter. I attributed it to the fact that it had been far too long since I'd had an orgasm, even by my own hand.
It might have been time to remedy that.
"Am I?" he asked. "I don't think so. All I can think of with all this bare skin in front of me is getting my hands on you, laying you out beneath me and exploring every inch of this golden skin with my hands—" he whispered, pressing a hand to the small of my back and pulling until our bodies pressed flush together. The feel of his arousal at my belly brought a gasp from my lips, the way his breath teased my ear as he bent his neck to continue his torment. "—my tongue and my teeth," he continued. "I'd watch you writhe underneath me; make you beg me to give you what you need. What only I can give you. Don't you want that, vita mia?" I bit my lip, curling my hands around the back of his neck and toying with the ends of the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Such a tease," I whispered. His hand twitched against the bare skin of my back, sending a pulse of heat straight to my core. I'd never felt attraction like this. Never felt like a single touch would light me on fire. Even with the lingering traces of my anger with him for taking my choice away, for his threats to lock me up, nothing could stop the heat pooling in my core.
What would happen when he finally got me naked? When all his bare skin touched mine and he moved inside me?
I might go up in flames. I just had to hope he didn’t let me burn.
His head pulled out to look down at me, and I'd never tire of the look in those eyes. The way he smoldered as he stared down at me, especially when I tugged his head down to mine and took his lips in a desperate kiss. He groaned into my mouth, devouring me, and I wanted to be consumed.
I wanted everything he offered, but fear still tickled the back of my mind. What if I'd been damaged beyond repair?
What if everything Connor said about me being a lousy lay was true, and I'd just condemned a second husband to a lifetime of bad sex?
Lino finally slid his hands down, grasping the back of my thighs and lifting until I sat on the counter in the exact same spot he'd tormented me in as we made ravioli. I willingly spread my legs, hiking the skirt up high enough to accommodate, and he slid into the space I opened. With my body flush against him, perched on the edge of the counter and trusting him, I could feel the ridge of the top of him through his slacks. Pressed up against the inside of my thigh in a torment, but I was glad because it couldn't touch me, not just yet.
Lino seemed to realize that I needed that boundary, and he didn't push it. Just ate at my mouth with all the ferocity he dismantled entire fortune-500 companies for takeovers. Like a conqueror staking his claim. His tongue tangled with mine and his hand mussed my hair.
