Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Instead of soothing me, his words hurt me more. He’s not being open with me willingly. He’s only offering a consolation. Yet I can’t stop myself from asking, “How long have you loved her?”
He stares at me while working his jaw from side to side. I don’t know if he’s reluctant to answer because he wants to spare himself or me.
Just when I think he’s not going to reply, he says, “Since I was fourteen.”
Oh my God. No wonder it’s hard for him. He’s loved her for just about forever. Giorgio was right when he said no woman could rival Rachele.
“How did you meet?” I ask. “Did you become friends with Giorgio after you met his sister or was it the other way around?”
“We didn’t attend the same school. Rachele went to a private girls’ college. I met her when Giorgio invited me home.”
“Did she feel the same way about you?”
He gives me a grim look. “Our marriage was arranged.”
“Like Elena and Raphael.”
“Yes.” The only sign of emotion he shows is in the slight flare of his nostrils. “I thought I’d win her over in time.” His laugh is mocking. “I failed spectacularly.”
“Don’t put yourself down. Just because your first love didn’t work out doesn’t mean you should carry all the blame.”
His expression is almost pitying, as if he feels sorry for me for not getting it. “You know where I come from. Rachele is in a different league.”
“Where you come from doesn’t define the man you became.”
“Our relationship wasn’t like that.”
I frown. “How was it?”
“Rachele is from good stock.”
Unlike me. The most important is always what’s not said.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, willing myself not to ask more, but he said himself this was my only opportunity to get a better understanding of the man I’m stuck with.
Lifting my gaze to his, I ask in a small voice, “Did you spank her?”
A beat follows in which he says nothing and everything. Rachele is too precious. He put her on a pedestal. He revered her too much to degrade her like that. She was the adored wife. I’m the convenient plaything.
The truth is like a sucker punch. I don’t know why I’m comparing myself with her. I’m nothing like Rachele. She was loved. Saverio gave her his everything. Whoever comes after will only get crumbs.
Damn, but it hurts. What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t even about me. This is about Saverio.
I nod, pushing down the turmoil that threatens to spill over into tears. “I see.”
“Don’t do that,” Saverio says.
Blinking away the buildup of moisture that burns at the back of my eyes, I adopt a neutral tone. “Do what?”
“Don’t demean our chemistry by thinking what we share is wrong or dirty.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask, my voice wobbly.
He strikes out, grabbing my biceps and pulling me so roughly against him that the air leaves my lungs.
“We happen to like the same things,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a darkness he reserves only for me. “There’s nothing wrong with our brand of kink, tesoro, and I’ll prove it to you too.”
He crushes his mouth on mine before I can get a word in, parting my lips violently with uncontrollable passion. My body answers immediately, the flame that licks in my core the blazing proof of the point he’s trying to make. Our chemistry is undeniable, but the fire that scorches my skin where he trails his fingers over my arms doesn’t incinerate the ache that throbs with dull beats under my breastbone.
He takes my bag from my hand and leaves it somewhere on the dresser behind me. My wrap falls from my shoulders, a piece of silk that sifts to the floor like a feather ripped from a wing. A broken thing. Slain. It lies at my feet with my conquered willpower, a red puddle of forgotten fabric as Saverio sweeps his tongue through the depths of my mouth and nips my bottom lip with his teeth.
I cling to his arms as he destroys me, creating need and wreaking havoc in his wake. He bunches the fabric of my dress into his fists and yanks the skirt up over my hips while walking me backward. Bowls and cosmetics rattle as I bump into the dresser. Bottles fall over. He sweeps a hand between my legs, groping for my center. Fresh arousal coats the remnants of his seed that have long since dried on my thighs. A perverse part of me revels in carrying that part of him on my skin. And inside me. It cheats me into believing I own a piece of him.
He doubles the onslaught on my lips while preparing me with his fingers, sliding two inside me and scissoring them. I moan into his mouth when he pumps before pulling out and smearing the slickness over my clit.