Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
The harsh, irregular cadence of her breathing tells me she’s close to coming, just as a familiar shiver of need courses through me. We’re both close.
“Oh, God,” she murmurs. “Oh, God, Tavi, I’m gonna come.”
“Climax with me.”
I may not be the first she’s ever had, but goddamn if I’ll be the only one she remembers.
I thrust hard, and she moans out loud. I feel the first clench of her spasms as she begins to climax. I’m shocked at the intensity of my own need to come, like she’s awakened a response deep within me.
“Come, baby. Let yourself go. Come.”
“Tavi!” she screams, my name echoing in my room at her first wave of pleasure. My cock jerks inside her. I milk every drop of pleasure from her and she rides me until we’re panting and exhausted.
We lay, joined together, our bodies still coupled, for long minutes. She’s naked but I’m still partially dressed. It doesn’t matter. I drag my fingers along her shoulders, a gentle touch. She reaches for my hand and kisses my palm, and if that isn’t the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I hold her beneath me, a little stunned that I’m gonna marry her.
I’ll call Romeo today. We’ll move the wedding up. We’ll deal with Mama and Nonna and whatever shit my family gives me.
I gave up everything for my family.
I’ll take Elise.
This woman’s mine.
CHAPTER 8
Elise.
What.
Just.
Happened.
I’ve had sex before.
But that wasn’t… sex.
I completely surrendered myself to him.
He’s a master in the bedroom, and I’m his goddamn slave.
And I liked it.
A part of me, a very small part, granted, sits stunned by the magnitude of my feelings.
My legs are numb. My breasts still tingle. My ass burns, but in the best possible way. He just eviscerated every memory of sex I ever had, and I don’t have any regrets.
I should… I should.
Something happened earlier today after he identified the body, I know it did. Something between us. I’m not a sentimental girl and never have been, but there are moments in time that burn in your memory like a brand, and today’s one of those.
It wasn’t really what he said or what I said. It wasn’t what we did. It was more of a mutual understanding. I saw a vulnerable side to him I didn’t anticipate. And he trusted me with what I’d bet few, if any, have ever seen before.
I’ll honor that.
I could feel his need to dominate me when we came in this house, and my body responded like it was made for this. That he could hurt me but didn’t… it’s more than an aphrodisiac. It fuels my need for more.
Silently, he undresses and pulls his T-shirt over his head.
“Could’ve done that before you fucked me. You owe me, Mr. Rossi,” I tease, because the view of Tavi shirtless is something you’d find in a men’s mag centerfold.
“Watch it, woman,” he says, in that husky voice of his, but there’s a softness to him brought out by our lovemaking.
If making love to this man is what mellows him, I’ll make love to him night and day.
I mentally tally my cycle, when I’m due for my period. I obviously haven’t had birth control since I’ve been his prisoner. I guess it’s a crap shoot, really. Vittoria has never gotten pregnant, and I’d guess that’s not for lack of trying. Meanwhile Angelina was pregnant within months of being with Orlando, maybe sooner. She’s happy with that. But me… I don’t know.
So much of this is inevitable. Marriage to him. Having children. Solidifying the Rossi family by extending branches on their family tree. I know all this, and a part of me really, truly longs for a child. One look at Nicolo’s soft curls and sweet, chubby cheeks, and I could feel my need to hold a child of my own growing.
But a child with a man I barely know…
I’ve long since given up illusions of having a child with a man I loved. I close the door on that thought before it grows to fruition.
“C’mere,” Tavi says, rolling me over to him. He takes his tee and cleans me with it lazily. It’s warm and smells like him, and his touch is so gentle my throat gets a little tight.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” He props pillows up in the bed and whips the dirty tee into a hamper by the door. “I’m fucking exhausted and this was one long day. Let’s order food.”
Ah, right, he sent his staff away. In this small, remote part of Tuscany, the selection of food to order is slim, but there are a few options, all of them very good. But it isn’t necessary.
“I can cook,” I offer helpfully. “I mean, as long as there’s food. I’m actually not bad.”
It’s a massive understatement. I studied cooking from the greatest chefs my fathers hired, and I love it.