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For months now, I've denied Isabella freedom because I believed in the Capo when he said her life comes first, beyond her whims and fancies. But is that really the case when he admitted, in a hurried, heated moment, "so be it" if she were to die by the hands of the Chicago Unit?
Something is beginning to gnaw at me - a sudden cynicism.
As the water stops, my heart starts racing in anticipation. Isabella will emerge any moment, and I try to brace myself for the sight of her, clean and needing healing. I swallow hard, struggling to keep my focus on the situation at hand – helping ease her worries. I must not mention my own fears to her.
The bathroom door creaks open, and there she stands – wearing my oversized white shirt. The damp fabric clings to every curve of her voluptuous figure, accentuating her thin waist and long legs. Her nipples show through the material, and a fierce heat surges within me, urging me to touch her, to taste her.
"Stefano," she breathes, her green eyes meeting mine. "I feel so much better. Thank you."
"It's nothing, Isabella," I reply, trying to maintain an even tone, but the raw intensity of her gaze makes it difficult.
I can see the remnants of grief and loss in her eyes, yet there is also something else – desire perhaps, I hope.
"Is something wrong?" she asks cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Nothing's wrong," I say quickly, forcing a smile onto my face.
"Nothing?" she whispers, in a voice I've never heard escape those luscious lips.
I shake my head, too fired up to use my words.
She walks up to me, slowly, her hips swaying. She pushes me onto the bed, gently and looks me straight in the eye.
"You never asked me."
"Asked you what?" I whisper, my body telling me where this is going before either of us have to spell it out.
"If something is wrong."
"Is something wrong, Isabella?"
"Yes, Stefano. I need to feel alive again," Isabella whispers, her breath hot against my neck.
Before I can react, she straddles me, her hips grinding against mine in a slow, sensual rhythm.
"Isabella..." I exhale, my hands instinctively finding her waist to steady her movements.
The anger and resentment we've been carrying in the past due to the Capo's actions suddenly morphs into an undeniable hunger for each other.
"Let me take control this time," she murmurs, moving her body provocatively. "Por favor."
"Very well," I consent, unable to resist her pleading eyes.
As Isabella continues to rock her hips against me, I feel the heat building inside me, a fire that threatens to consume us both. My thoughts race, trying to make sense of this sudden shift in our dynamic, but it's impossible to focus on anything other than the feel of her body pressed against mine.
"Sit back and enjoy the show, Stefano," she commands, leaning back slightly as her fingers move to the buttons of my oversized shirt she's wearing. With teasing slowness, she begins to unfasten them one by one, each movement revealing more of her voluptuous figure.
"Dear mother of god," I breathe out as she peels back the fabric to expose her full, bouncy breasts.
The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet powerful, is intoxicating. My hands itch to touch her, but she shoots me a warning glance.
"Not yet," she says with a playful smirk, continuing her tantalizing dance against me.
"You tease, Isabella," I admit, my voice thick with desire. "I can't take it anymore."
"Soon, my love" she promises, her green eyes locked onto mine as she leans in for a searing kiss. The taste of her lips and the feel of her body moving in sync with mine is overwhelming, a balm for the wounds we've both suffered.
"We do have all the time in the world," I whisper against her lips, my resolve crumbling as I reach for her, desperate to feel her skin against mine.
