47. Isabella
Chapter forty-seven
Isabella
I never thought learning self-defense could be this... hot. Those romance novels and binge-worthy TV shows I've devoured? They got one thing right: the raw sensuality of it all. Antonio's rough hands on my waist, showing me how to tilt my hips just so, to knock an attacker off-balance? It's like electricity zipping through my veins.
I'm definitely leaning into my husband more than I need to, his rock-hard body pressed against my back. And that's not the only thing that's hard. I can feel his desire, matching the heat curling in my own belly.
Being around him makes me feel... safe. It's a weird thought, considering our messy history. Maybe it's because I'm leaving tomorrow, and the idea of going makes me want to cling to him. The thought of flying to Greece, of facing my mother and all the unknowns, it's left me feeling like I'm about to step onto a stage without knowing my choreography.
"There you go," he murmurs, his breath warm on my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Now, if someone grabs you from behind-"
He demonstrates, his strong arms wrapping around me. I should be focusing on the technique, on how to break free, but all I can think about is how right it feels to be in his arms.
"You need to drop your weight," he continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Use their momentum against them."
I follow his lead, my body moving with his. It's like a dance, intimate and dangerous all at once. As I twist out of his grasp, I feel a surge of pride.
I'm becoming stronger, more capable.
I turn to face him, and we're barely an inch apart. My breath catches as I look up, meeting his intense gaze. Without thinking, I trail my finger down his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my touch.
He shivers, and I revel in the effect I have on him. This man, so hardened and powerful, reacting to my lightest touch. My husband.
"How was that?" I ask, barely above a whisper.
"Perfect," he growls, his eyes dark with want. "But let's try it again. This time, I won't go easy on you."
As we get back into position, I can't help but think about us. The violence and the tenderness, the fear and the safety, the past and the uncertain future. It's all mixed up in this moment, in the way our bodies move together, in the way his touch both steadies me and sets me on fire.
Tomorrow, I'll be on a plane to Greece. But right now, in this moment, I'm exactly where I need to be. Learning, growing stronger, and with him.
"How do you feel?" he asks what feels like forever and a few seconds later but really is about thirty minutes, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that makes my stomach flutter.
"Like I could take on the world," I reply, only half-joking. "Or at least hold my own against a Greek mob boss."
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between us. "You were incredible, Bella," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "The way you moved, how quickly you learned... it was fucking beautiful."
His praise sends a shiver down my spine, and suddenly I'm acutely aware of how close we are, how his scent - sweat and leather and pure male - surrounds me.
"I want to make you feel good," he growls. "You were such a good girl, learning and training and following my lead. Let me reward you."
Before I can respond, his lips crash into mine, hungry and demanding. His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I melt into him, my own hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, the ripple of muscles under my fingertips.
He backs me up against the wall, his body pressing into mine. I can feel every hard inch of him, and a moan escapes my lips. His fingers trail down my body, teasing me over my pants, and I arch into his touch, craving more.
"Antonio," I gasp as he nips at my neck. "We shouldn't... anyone could walk in..."
“I locked the door earlier," he growls, sinking to his knees. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my yoga pants, looking up at me with a question in his eyes. I nod, unable to form words.
As he slowly peels my pants down, I'm suddenly self-conscious. "I'm all sweaty," I start to say, but the words die in my throat as I see the raw hunger in his gaze.
"You're perfect," he says, his voice rough with desire. "So fucking perfect."
His tongue finds me, and suddenly I'm clutching his shoulders, my legs trembling. This moment is tender and passionate, raw and needy all at once. When he slides a finger inside me, I gasp at the ease of it.
His tongue finds me, and I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders as my legs tremble. The sensation is overwhelming - tender yet passionate, raw and needy all at once. Antonio's hands grip my hips, steadying me as he explores with his mouth, each swipe of his tongue sending shockwaves through my body.
When he slides a finger inside me, I'm surprised by the ease of it. There's no pain, only a delicious fullness that has me arching into his touch.
"That cream," I manage to say between ragged breaths, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "It really works."
I can feel his smile against me, the vibration of his low chuckle sending new waves of pleasure coursing through me. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine.
"That's right, love," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You're so wet for me. So responsive." He curls his finger inside me, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. "Let go, Bella. I've got you."
He returns his mouth to me, adding another finger, and I'm lost. The world narrows down to this moment, to the sensations he's drawing from my body. My hips move of their own accord, seeking more, and Antonio matches my rhythm perfectly.
As the pleasure builds inside me, rising like a tidal wave, I'm struck by a realization. This - us - it's not just about the physical. It's about trust, about letting down our guards and being vulnerable. Each touch, each kiss, is an unspoken promise, a step towards healing our wounds.
I look down at Antonio, his face buried between my thighs, his hands holding me steady, and I'm overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. This man, who I've loved and hated in equal measure, who's hurt me and healed me, is on his knees before me, focused entirely on my pleasure.
As the tension in my body reaches its peak, I let go of my doubts, my fears, my reservations. I surrender to the moment, to Antonio, to the possibility of us.
"Antonio," I breathe, my voice catching as the first waves of my climax wash over me. "I-"
But the rest of my words are lost in a cry of ecstasy as I shatter in his arms, trembling and gasping his name like a lifeline.
"I'm yours," he growls as he kisses me again, and I can taste myself on his lips, on his tongue. "Fuck, Bella. I've always been yours."
His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. I'm struck by the vulnerability in his eyes, a stark contrast to the Beast I've come to know.
"I'm not agreeing to this Greece shit because I'm scared it'd be the end of us if I didn't," he says, his voice rough. "Even though at first, maybe it was the reason, but I'm listening to what you want. But fuck, Bella, I'm terrified you won't come back."
He inhales deeply. "You survived so much, including the hell I put you through. You're strong, Isabella. Stronger than anyone I've ever known."
His words dance over me, a mix of pride and pain swirling in my chest. I want to reassure him, to promise I'll return, but we both know there are no guarantees in our world.
Instead, I cup his face in my hands, my thumbs tracing the scars I've memorized. "I'll always find my way back to you. To you and Elena."
He nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'll see you at dinner with Connor and Naomi," he says, helping me straighten my clothes. "At least those Greek fuckers won't be there tonight."
As I watch Antonio leave, a familiar tightness creeps into my chest. The warmth of our encounter still lingers on my skin, but so does the memory of his betrayal. I've been here before – feeling safe, letting my guard down, only to have my world shattered.
I shake my head, trying to clear the doubt. This time is different, isn't it? He's changed. We've changed.
But a small voice in the back of my mind whispers, "Have we really?"
I think about tomorrow, about boarding that plane to Greece. About facing my mother – a woman I thought was dead, who let me believe she was dead for years. My stomach churns with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Leaving Antonio and Elena? It's harder than I ever thought possible.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Because my heart... my heart wants to believe in us, in the possibility of healing.
As I head to shower before dinner, I realize I'm walking a tightrope between hope and caution. One misstep could send me plummeting into the abyss.
But my instincts tell me it’s not Antonio I need to fear. Not anymore. My mother, on the other hand, well... that’s another story.