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“Alessio.” Her teeth are still buried in her lower lip, her expression pleading. “Please. They might want me to be so innocent that I don’t know what I’m doing at all, butIdon’t want that. It will make me less afraid of it all. Please.”
I can’t deny her, not when she asks me like that. Not when I can see her nearly begging. There might be a dozen or more things I would want her to beg me for—but not for my help. Not for me to ease her fears.
I don’t want to make her beg me for that.
“Alright,” I concede. I run one hand through my hair, feeling uncertain as I look at her, her worried expression instantly easing. “I’ll have to—think about it. How to go about it, I mean. But I will try to help.”
“Can we start tonight?” Gianna nibbles at her lower lip again, and I wonder how, exactly, I’m meant to do this without losing control. “You could come to my room, and we could—”
“No.” The word comes out too sharp, too abrupt, and I see her flinch. “The library,” I tell her, trying to soften my voice. “A place comfortable for both of us, but without the—intimacies of one of our bedrooms. And who knows? Maybe there’s an instructional book or two in there to help me explain.”
Gianna giggles softly at that, and my cock throbs again, a warning reminder that we could try this in any fucking room in the entire house, and it wouldn’t help. I’m going to want her just as badly, and this is going to be every bit as difficult.
I’m going to be questioning the wisdom of my decision every moment between now and the one where she eventually chooses a husband—but it’s too late to back out now.
—
When I go up to the library a few hours after dinner, Gianna is already there. She’s sitting on a velvet chaise, and I’m relieved to see that she’s wearing leggings and a tank top—while it’s far from being unsexy, I’d been half afraid she’d show up in wedding night lingerie. She has a book balanced on her knees as she reads, and there’s a fire leaping in the fireplace, the heavy velvet drapes at the windows drawn. It might be less intimate than one of our bedrooms, but only barely.
There’s a glass of wine on the small table at her elbow, half-empty, and I have a feeling she’s had a drink to calm her nerves. I wanted one myself, but I couldn’t risk lowering my inhibitions. It will be hard enough to keep myself from touching her in any way that I shouldn’t, even entirely sober.
“So,” Gianna says softly, setting the book aside and sitting up. “What are you going to teach me?”
My entire body tightens, hearing her say it like that, soft and curious, looking up at me with so much trust in her eyes. I want to teach hereverything, in reality, not just theory, and my entire body aches before even a single word has come out of my mouth.
“It depends on your questions.” I sink into one of the leather wing chairs near the fireplace, feeling the pleasant prickle of the heat over my legs. Even in early summer, a house this large can be chilly at night, and the fire provides a welcome ambiance, if nothing else. “What do you want to know, Gianna?”
“What happens on my wedding night?” She sits up completely, facing me cross-legged on the couch. I force myself not to look down at where the tight material of her leggings is pressed between her thighs, not to imagine touching her there, stroking her—not to wonder if she’s already wet with the anticipation of what I might tell her.
“That could be a vast topic, too.” I chuckle lightly, trying to keep some humor in my voice, so I don’t lose my mind altogether. “You’ll need to be more specific. What parts of it don’t you know about?”
“Any of it.” Gianna presses her lips together, her hands knotting in her lap. “Where will we go after the reception?”
“Well, that depends. Your husband might have a plan already, or he might ask you what you prefer. He might want to take you to a luxurious hotel, or bring you back here for your wedding night. You should decide where you want to stay as a married couple, before then. I imagine you’ll want a nicer suite than your childhood room, but maybe not the one your father occupied. That could feel—a bit strange.”
“I don’t think I would want a strange man in there.” Gianna’s teeth graze her lower lip, and I don’t miss the innuendo behind her words, the way she leans onstrange. I haven’t been sleeping in the master suite, but I know full well what she’s implying—that if it was me, a man she knew and trusted, she’d take me to bed in the room meant for the lord and lady of the house, as it were. “I’d probably prefer a hotel, I think. Somewhere—neutral.”
“That’s something you can tell them, you know,” I reassure her. “The point of all of this—hosting a dinner party, letting them court you before you make your decision, is so you can get to know each other a little better than a strictly arranged marriage might allow. So you have a chance to express the things you might want and see how these men react.”Boys,I want to say. Not a single one of them is a man, not in my estimation. All are only a little older than Gianna, mid-twenties at most. Appropriate for her, but not in any sense of the word experienced or worldly enough to be calledmen.
“It’s not—wrong for me to talk about my wedding night with them?” Gianna’s cheeks flush, and it’s a struggle to keep my breathing even, to not think about what she must be feeling right now. Her anticipation, her nervousness, the possibility of her arousal—it all feels like a drug that I want to revel in.
“Well, I wouldn’t go into great detail. But if you would feel more comfortable spending it in a hotel, that’s certainly a preference I think you could express, just like any other preference about your wedding.”
Gianna nods, taking a slow breath. “And after? Say we—go to a hotel. What then?”
My cock twitches against my thigh, and I can’t help but wonder how in the hell I’m going to get through this.
“It depends,” I say slowly. “Your husband almost certainly won’t be inexperienced, but it depends on how much he—values your pleasure over his.” I swallow hard. “What he might ask for, or—demand.”
Gianna shifts slightly on the chair when I saydemand, and I feel that pulse of blood in my cock again.God help me, if she starts asking me about demands—
“What do you mean by my pleasure over his? Won’t he want to—touch me?” Her voice trembles a little with nervousness.
“Yes, I’m sure he will. But to what extent—” I breathe in, trying to find the right words. “Likely, if he’s not in too much of a hurry, he’ll want to help you out of your wedding dress himself. If he knows what he’s doing and has the patience to take his time, he’ll go slowly—try to arouse you before he takes you to bed. He’ll kiss you, touch you—”
“Where?” There’s a sudden breathiness to Gianna’s voice that makes me ache. “Here?”
She reaches up, her fingers curling around the curve of her breast, and my mouth goes dry. I hadn’t realized it until just that moment, but as the fabric of her tank top presses against her breast, her fingers moving over her nipple as it hardens, I can see that she’s not wearing a bra.
