Chapter 24 #2
“There’s no camera in there, but there is an audio recorder.”
I sit with that for a minute, trying to process how I feel about it.
Based on the tension in Cristian’s body, he’s preparing for the worst.
“It’s for your protection,” he tells me. “I need to know who your stalker is so I can—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “It’s fine.”
It doesn’t really feel fine, but honestly, I’m tired of the notes, and I want it to be over.
“Does Viktor know?” I grimace, imagining how that conversation would have played out.
“No.” Cristian shakes his head. “Nobody does.”
“Do I even want to know how you pulled that off?”
A hint of amusement flashes in his eyes, dissolving some of the tension from earlier. “Probably not.”
“So you didn’t have sex with Tiffany then?”
“No.” He settles a possessive hand on my thigh. “Why would you think I did?”
“Because she made it sound like you did.” I sigh, realizing this is just another one of her games, and I can’t believe I fell for it.
Something dark rolls through Cristian’s eyes as he shifts me in his lap, and somehow, I end up straddling him.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he murmurs. “Not ever.”
My default response would be to tell him it doesn’t matter because this doesn’t mean anything. But I think it’s pretty obvious to both of us that I wouldn’t be so upset about Tiffany if it weren’t…something.
“So are we still arguing?” I ask.
“You tell me.” His thumb ghosts over my lower lip, his gaze lingering there like he wants to kiss me.
A riot of butterflies erupt inside me, even though I swore I wouldn’t kiss him again. The fact that I’m even considering it makes me nervous, and I avert my gaze to focus on the buttons of his shirt.
“Look at me, gattina,” he orders softly.
“I can’t,” I protest.
“Why?”
“Because every time I look at you, I want you to fuck me.”
A dark laugh rumbles from his chest. “Is that a problem for you?”
Right now, the problem is that I feel how hard he is beneath me, and going without him this week has made me desperate. He smells so good, and his body is so warm, and his hands feel so possessive—I know I can’t resist him, even if it’s the best thing for me.
I haven’t forgotten what he said back at the club, but somehow, my brain has compartmentalized that as a problem for later.
“You gave me the silent treatment all week,” I complain.
His hands coast over my thighs and settle on my hips, grinding me down against him. “You said you wanted this to be over.”
“I know what I said.” I let out a tortured breath.
“Do you want me to walk away?” His voice takes on a gravelly edge, like he already knows that’s not an option.
I can’t bring myself to answer him, so I deflect.
“That’s not really fair.”
“Why?” He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in like he’s taking a hit.
“Because that...” I tilt my head back as I fight through the haze of pleasure. “You’ve got me all…drunk.”
“Hmm. So what should we do about it?” he asks.
“Go to my bed?”
I don’t know why it sounds like a question, but part of me still thinks he’ll reject me.
“You want me inside you, principessa?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
Approval rumbles low in his chest as he picks me up and carries me down the hall.
I don’t waste any time loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, and I realize as I paw at his clothes how much I missed this.
When I pause for a moment to stare at him, I’m certain he can read the emotion in my eyes.
I don’t know what he’s doing to me.
“Adesso sai,” he rasps.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I like this.”
His fingers graze my face, and I can only assume he’s referring to whatever it is he sees in my expression.
We linger in that moment for what feels like an eternity before he sets me on my feet.
He peels off my dress, and I unclasp my strapless bra and shimmy out of my thong.
Once I’m naked, I kneel on the edge of the bed, working on his belt buckle while he removes his half-unbuttoned shirt and tie.
Everything gets tossed into a pile until there’s nothing left between us, and my eyes roam over him while he watches with an expression that could scorch the earth.
I don’t think there will ever come a day when the sight of this man doesn’t steal my breath. But the moment I reach out to touch him, he twists his fingers in my hair and lifts my gaze to his.
“It’s been a week.” His words come out rough, as if that deprivation was bone-deep. “I need to be inside you.”
“Okay,” I answer breathlessly.
He eases me onto the bed and climbs over me, settling his body between my thighs. I welcome his weight pressing me into the mattress, absently thinking about how much I like it.
Before him, I never trusted anyone enough to let them have this much power over me.
He’s the exception, and somehow, I know he’ll be the only one I ever have.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, gattina.” He drags his cock through my arousal. “Have you been thinking about this?”
I bite my lip and nod.
“Good.” He lets out a low groan as he dips the head of his cock inside me. “Because I’m going to spend the rest of the night reminding you who you belong to.”
I sweep my palms over his back, pulling him closer as he pushes into me. It’s a slow-burning glide that stretches me apart and reawakens every nerve.
Agony overtakes him when he buries himself deep, and I can see how much he needs this. It relieves some of the pressure between my ribs knowing I wasn’t the only one aching for it during our time apart.
Tonight, he sets a different pace, fucking me slowly as the rest of the world fades away. It’s impossible to hold on to my self-preservation when he’s like this, but that’s a problem for later. I just want to live in this moment and forget about all the complications of this union.
So, I surrender.
And for the rest of the night, he fulfills his promise, showing me exactly who I belong to.