24. Trilby

T rilby

I press my back against the pillar and hold my breath. The only sound I can hear is the beating of my pulse as blood pumps through my temples, and it's getting faster.

This is what foreplay must feel like.

For almost a month I've been moving around Cristiano, testing the boundaries, seeing how far I can push it before one of us snaps. I've felt the burn of electricity whenever he's entered the room and wondered what would happen if his fingers coasted just a little bit higher than my wrist or my arm. What if they stilled across my breast? What if they lingered on my hips? What if they went to places forbidden to anyone but the man I've been ordered to marry?

The thought makes my bones weak and my core smolder.

I strain to hear the soft click of an Italian leather shoe or the rustle of designer cotton, but nothing comes. I slowly breathe out and press my palms to the cool concrete.

In the distance something scurries along the edge of the garage, and every hair on my body bristles. What was I thinking when I leveled this challenge?

It's simple. I wasn't thinking. I was taunting.

I was doing everything I could think of to provoke him, to push his buttons, because I can't keep up this act anymore. Something has to give.

Someone has to give in , and I'll be damned if it's me.

The tension between us is so taut it's about to snap, and neither of us can afford for it to snap in full view of Savero, or my family, or even the friends I keep at the wrong end of town.

I don't know what the snap will look like. All I know is I can't take this tension anymore. It needs to break; to leach out into the air. The pressure needs to release, otherwise I'm going to explode.

My virginity feels like a chain around my neck. A broken hymen and a high-five. That can't be all this comes down to. This moment, this anticipation, is so much more. I feel as if this is what I've waited my whole life for, not a tick in the box that supposedly determines my worth and my value as a woman.

Every cell in my body sings for Cristiano. I'm crying out for him to touch me, to feel me, to hear the song my body's performing for his ears only, before it's obliterated by a false sense of duty.

I breathe in again slowly and turn my head to the right. Nothing. Not even the dart of a shadow.

I lean over a little, careful not to overbalance. My fingers grip onto the concrete as I brush my cheek along the smooth pillar, then I turn my body until my front is flat against it.

The cool wall is soothing against the heat of my chest and my stomach. I bring my hands up to steady myself and lean toward the edge of the pillar a little more.

He's nowhere to be seen. Everywhere is silent.

Then the hairs on the back of my neck shiver under a hot breath.

"Caught you."

His whisper drips with promise, and my eyelids flutter shut.

A shudder rolls down my spine as he closes in on me.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?"

I don't miss the dark teasing behind his tone. It warms my pelvis and turns my stomach to liquid. I want to turn my head, but I can feel his heat right there, tantalizingly close.

His breath strokes my nape, and his lips press softly against my hair.

The suspense, the not knowing what he'll do, has me teetering right on the edge of sanity. If he doesn't do something to ease this unbearable tension, I'm going to lose it.

My heart is in my throat, every sense on high alert. Then I feel his fingers pushing between mine, his hot flesh pressing my hands into the cool concrete.

Slowly, he works his fingers beneath mine, curling them into my palms, and finally , his body pushes up against my back.

A satisfied sigh leaves my body, along with a soft moan. He's pressing his erection into the small of my back and holding it there, like a warning.

A low, desperate growl rolls through his chest. "This is what you've done to me. I've been walking around with a fucking hard-on since you strutted into that damn bar. My cock has never been so fucking needy. It won't settle for anything less than you. I can't even sleep when you're in the next room. I can't breathe ."

His words light me up like a flame. He's halfway to explaining just how deeply I feel. Like a brazen cat, my back arches, lifting the cheeks of my ass so his hard-on slips between them. My head drops backward onto his shoulder, and an untethered sound I've never made before in my life curls its way out of my chest.

His breath scorches my collar bone as he dips his mouth toward my shoulder. His teeth graze along the sensitive skin, from the tip of my shoulder to the curve of my neck. I tilt my head to the left to give him access, because the need for him to sink his teeth into me burns .

His voice trembles with restraint. "I'm afraid if I taste you, I'll never stop."

One word leaks from my lips. I never thought I'd resort to this, especially not with someone like Cristiano.

"Please . . ."

He pauses, his lips drifting lightly over my skin, making me raw with need.

I hold my breath.

And then I weaken under his strong hold as he pins me to the concrete.

"You drive me fucking crazy." His low murmur sets my skin alight, but he cools it with soft brushes of his lips. It's maddening, and it's doing nothing to burst this tension.

"Cristiano . . . please . . ."

"Please what?"

My breath leaves my lungs in short bursts. "I don't know," I admit honestly. "I don't know what I need, but I can't bear this anymore."

Very slowly, he pulls my right hand in toward my body. He takes a long breath and then extends my arm down until my hand is about level with my underwear. The throbbing between my legs grows needier, as if my body knows something I don't.

With his fingers threaded through mine, he pushes them beneath my dress. I don't know what he's doing, but it's balancing on a fine line between torturous and darkly promising. His fingers guide mine toward the soft cotton of my panties, and then, with my mind dancing to an uneven rhythm, he presses softly into them.

A loud, uncontrollable sigh rushes out of my lungs.

God.

"Is this what you need, little one?"

I swallow repeatedly, unable to speak.

As he presses my fingers more firmly, a strange wetness coats the tips through the fabric, and a shocked gasp makes my spine rigid.

"Yeah, you're soaking." His smile is unmistakable against my skin, and in that split second I decide that's enough to live for. We're doing this, and I've never felt so desperate yet sated in all my life.

Gently and slowly, he works my fingers in circles against my panties. I turn my face and cool my forehead against the pillar. I want this unbearable need to give, but also to never end. Small notes of desperation drip off the edge of my tongue in time with the rough breaths caressing my neck.

"You're shaking so hard," he says gruffly. "Is that for me, little one?"

I can't respond. I can only gyrate between the growing burn at the top of my legs and the dark promise pressing into the base of my spine.

I open my mouth to speak, but he nips me with his teeth, halting me.

"Don't tell me we can't do this." His voice is edged with desperation, making my legs weak.

An image of Savero crawls across my lids, a replay of his fingers shoving into the depths of a man's throat. Ice cold fear winds its way from my heart to my fingertips, but still it doesn't cool the burning embers coating my skin. As terrified as I am of Savero, it's his brother I want, with every dying fraction of my soul. I breathe out with absolute conviction. "I wasn't going to," I whisper, my own voice in tatters of need. "I want you to put an end to this feeling."

His tone softens. "What feeling?"

"Like I'm going to explode. I don't know how to live with it, and it's burning me up."

Suddenly, the heat against my back disappears, and I hear him settle on one knee behind me. He wraps a hand around my left ankle and lifts it up to rest it on his raised thigh.

"What did I say about wearing these short dresses?" He teases the hem with his tongue, tickling the curve of my bottom. Lust pools between my legs, and I'm mortified, because his face is so close to it, yet I'm desperate for him to put an end to this longing.

He feeds his hand through the lace, curls it into a fist, and then yanks, ripping it clean off.

The tips of my fingers are sore from where I'm gripping the pillar, and my breaths are short and needy.

Then something hot, wet, and firm presses against my clit.

Oh God .

He hums his approval, sending tendrils of fire across every inch of my body.

Taking hold of my hips, he licks me hard and slow, from the uppermost tip of my clit to the puckered opening of my bottom. An animalistic moan escapes my throat, but I'm too far intoxicated to care.

His tongue circles my entrance, and when I'm thoroughly soaked and slippery, the cool underground air dances over me. He leans into me again and laps at my pussy with a focus bordering on obsessive, the pressure increasing gently with the speed of his tongue.

I press my forehead harder into the cold concrete and close my eyes.

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ," he murmurs between licks. "I didn't know sin could taste so damn sweet."

He makes a long humming sound and then pulls back before turning me around in his thick hands. My eyes remain closed, because I don't want to lose this feeling. I know how treasonous this is; I know I should put a stop to it. But, for the life of me, I can't . I want to be the sweet sin on the flat of his tongue for as long as I live.

His palms spread my thighs until I'm standing wide-open, my back against a pillar, with a dangerous man's hot breath on my pussy. His fingers pull my folds apart, and he leans in and flicks his tongue lightly over my clit. A groan of desperation leaches from my lungs into the damp air.

He presses a finger to my opening and rims it, the sound of wet flesh filling the stone-cold silence. My arousal drips to the floor, and I couldn't care less.

"Fuck yes. Shiver for me, my beautiful girl."

He rests his hands lightly on my trembling thighs as though he's relishing the fact I'm incapable of controlling my body's response to him. When he leans into me, coating his whole face with my arousal, I sob with relief.

He works his mouth over my entire pussy, fucking my opening with his wicked tongue and suckling at my clit like it's a nipple.

My head falls back while I grip his thick hair between vibrating fingers.

With his lips firmly attached to my swollen nub, he shifts his angle and slips a finger halfway inside of me. My moan is high and breathless.

He finds a delectable rhythm between circling my pussy and lapping at my clit, which has me panting breathlessly, riding the edge of bliss.

Then, as if he isn't getting enough, he lifts me off my feet and brings me down onto his face.

My hands reach overhead and grip onto the edges of the pillar as he rocks me back and forth over his mouth. Untethered, desperate breaths are pumped out of my chest as I barrel toward absolute ecstasy.

"Cristiano," I whisper hoarsely. "Make me come."

He moans onto my clit and curls his tongue inside my heat. Then my vision explodes into a million stars. He doesn't let up. He keeps rocking me on his face, and I keep coming. It's so dirty and so wrong, and I never want him to stop.

My legs are shaking so hard he doesn't lower me to the floor. Instead he drags his mouth to my upper thigh and French kisses it all the way down to my knee, while I shudder weakly on his shoulders.

He stands before I can protest, and I almost choke on the hunger in his eyes.

His earlier words dance in my ears. "If we'd had sex, you'd still be feeling me in your stomach."

Suddenly, I want to feel him in my stomach. I want to feel him everywhere. A shadow drapes itself over my consciousness.

"What is it?"

I lift my gaze to his. "It hasn't worked."

"What hasn't worked?"

"I thought scratching that itch would help me ..."

"But . . .?"

I look away, the shame burning me from my bones to my skin. "It hasn't."

His fingers clasp my chin, tilting my face up to his. Without saying a word, he demands I finish that sentence.

My thoughts come out in a trembling whisper. "I need more."

He leans in and grazes his lips across the shell of my ear. "Say that again."

My breath stutters, and I whisper, "I need more , Cristiano. I need you ."

He wipes a hand down his face before lifting both hands and pushing my hair back, resting his fingers on my nape. "Fuck," he drawls.

Then he closes his lips over mine.

For a moment he doesn't move. He just presses his lips against me, breathing deeply. Then his tongue darts out and softly licks the underside of my top lip.

A groan escapes him, and he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. It takes a second or two for me to realize his breathing is labored. He's holding back.

"Kiss me," I whisper.

His hands reach up and grip the sides of my face. Then, with his lashes lowered, he brushes his lips across my eyelids, over the bridge of my nose, and down my cheeks. When he reaches my mouth, he traces my lips with his tongue, the sensation setting every inch of my skin alight. I moan helplessly, and he folds his mouth over it, sucking it into his lungs.

Then, fuck , does he kiss me.

He presses me back against the pillar while his tongue swipes against mine from every angle in a hungry waltz. It's messy and delicious and heated .

Those kisses that failed to light me up before? They were nothing compared to this. This man can kiss like it's his dying breath, and I want him all over me.

"Don't stop," I groan as he pulls his mouth away.

He chuckles darkly, smooths his hands below my bare buttocks, and lifts me up. My legs wrap themselves around his waist, my ass brushing the top of his erection.

Just being in his arms with his lips on mine is enough to make my world shimmer. I've wanted this for more than mere weeks. The way I melt into his embrace as if we were designed for each other, and the way my heart has expanded to fill my entire being, tells me the cool, hard truth: I've wanted this all my life. I don't understand why or how I know this—I just do. Cristiano and I must have met in another life. We were meant to be. And nothing can take that away from us.

His tongue laps at mine, tasting every crevice of my mouth with deep, focused curiosity. It's like he's cataloguing every fraction of me. I open up and let him.

"God, I need this," he moans.

I'm transcending to another reality, one in which I'm treasonous and trapped, but at the same time fed and free.

He continues to kiss me, hard and deep, as he carries me to the elevator. He doesn't even wait for the door to close before he's ramming my back against the wall.

His fingers thread up through my hair, his fists pulling at the follicles. With some of my weight taken away, he grinds into me, slowly rolling his cock up and over my clit, drawing more moans from my throat. I lean back against the mirrored wall and watch the way his eyes feast on my swollen breasts. They ache to feel his fingers.

All too soon, the elevator doors ping open, and he walks with me wrapped around his waist into his apartment. I feel my back pressed up against the refrigerator, and he grinds into me again, letting me know just how turned-on he is. The feel of his solid cock against my soft pussy is maddening, and I let out helpless moans, one after the other.

He runs a hand from my throat to my chest and holds it there as if he's keeping me literally at arm's length. Then, slowly, he lowers me to the counter. When the bare skin of my ass touches down, I jump.

"It's cold, huh?" A slow, devastating wink. "I'll warm you up in no time."

He leans forward and catches my bottom lip between his teeth. His warm breath caresses my skin as his tongue chases the sharp graze his teeth left behind.

A wilt of a moan passes from my mouth to his, then I glance down at his pants. They're wet.

He follows my gaze, and a darkness drapes over him. "I came when I was licking you out."

"You . . . But?—"

"Yeah." He pushes his hands through my hair and presses kisses to the side of my throat. "Never happened before."

My head is spinning. Can he come again? I want to be able to give him this.

He senses my questions, stops still, and stares heavily at me. "Don't worry, Castellano. I'm just getting started."

Breath gushes from my mouth, and he laughs again. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

I'm lifted again and carried to the master bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed and crawls up over me. His gaze is intense and just hot .

"Let me see your body," he says softly.

"The zipper is at the back," I say in a whisper.

"Roll onto your front."

He sits back on his knees to let me do just that, and I smile as a murmur of approval reaches my ears.

My hair tickles my nape as it's brushed to the side. He pulls the zipper down slowly, the cool air nipping at my bare skin. The zipper reaches to my sit bone, and he swallows as his finger strokes a circle on the small of my back. His palms touch my back and slide up, until his fingertips are beneath the short sleeves of my dress. As he pushes them outward, he lowers his body and kisses the top of my spine. A shiver coasts down it despite his warmth covering me like a blanket.

One by one, he pulls my arms through the straps, then he reaches a hand beneath me and touches my chest. Back on his knees, he pulls me up with one hand while smoothing the dress down to my stomach. He shifts backward and lifts my hips as I sink my face into the comforter, partly out of embarrassment that I literally have my ass in his face, and partly because I'm still so turned-on I could cry a river.

The dress is pulled down my thighs, baring my bottom to him. He pauses, every second heightening my arousal.

Then he leans forward and sinks his teeth into the left cheek. I yelp and melt under him when he licks away the sting.

"I'm going to make a meal out of your ass, Castellano." His voice is so gravelly I almost turn to check it's still him. "And you're going to kneel there like a good girl and let me."

I don't get a chance to object when he does the same to my other ass cheek. I moan like an absolute hussy. I'm heated and restless everywhere , but I don't want to move. This must be what delirium feels like.

He bites and nibbles until the skin is sore and buzzing, and then he licks and kisses until I'm chasing his teeth again.

"Keep still," he commands, pushing my bottom forward. "Greedy girl." Then a hot, wet tongue dips between my legs and licks all the way to my puckered opening.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs, almost to himself. "You're still so fucking wet."

I shiver again.

"Come up onto your hands."

I do as he says, but it's slow. I'm so decentered I can barely coordinate my limbs.

He unties my bra and then reaches his hands below me to cup my naked breasts. They rest like pendulums in his palms, and I moan restlessly as he kneads them.

"I want to see you," I say, slurring my words.

His hands leave my breasts, and he gently rolls me onto my back. I may be as naked as the day I was born, but he is still one hundred percent fully clothed.

He gets off the bed and stands, soaking up my hungry gaze while he drops his jacket to the floor. First he unbuttons his shirt. He untucks it and lets it hang open while he thoughtfully removes his cufflinks. His eyes don't leave me once. When his cufflinks are removed, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, and I heat up like a kindled fire. His upper body is perfect. I gobble up his broad shoulders and cut biceps before my gaze falls to his ink.

A dove in flight amid a tongue of fire takes up the whole left side of his torso.

I sit up. "Is that the ...?" My voice trails off.

"The Di Santo crest," he answers. "Every made man in our family has it."

I swallow. "Were you ... made?"

"Not officially, but Sav and I got the ink at fourteen. Being born into the family made it kind of unavoidable."

I'm so glued to the intricate details—the feathers of the dove and the licks of the flame—that I don't realize he's removed everything from his bottom half until my gaze focuses on the enormous cock in his hand.

Cristiano is leaning back against his bedroom wall, slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft while he watches me watching him.

He jerks his head toward me. "Touch yourself."

"No!" Anxious sweat leaches through my pores.

"I've eaten you out, little one—you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

I stare at him, unable to put into words why I'm not on board with this despite his logic.

"Come on, Castellano." His eyes drop to my thighs. "I want to see you. Spread your legs for me and let me see the beautiful pussy I just fucking worshipped."

An intoxicating throbbing picks up between my legs.

He drops his head back against the wall and groans. "Castellano, I'm hanging on by a thread here ..."

He is?

"Have you any idea how much I've wanted this since the first fucking second I saw you?"

My pulse races.

"Please, just put a fi?—"

He stops short as he pulls his head up, because I'm doing as he asked. I've pushed a finger inside of myself, coating my fingers in my arousal.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." The words emerge as a strained, hoarse whisper.

I can't believe how this is affecting him. His eyes glaze over and don't waver from the movement of my fingers. His hand grips his cock tighter, and his chest is heaving .

I slip a second finger inside of myself and then rub the juices around my clit. But I'm so wet there's no friction.

"Cristiano," I gasp. I need him to do this for me.

His eyes darken, and he takes two strides to the bed, still rubbing his cock. "Lie down. Spread your legs."

Alarm zaps through me. "Cristiano, we can't . . . I . . ."

I can't bring myself to say the words. Not here—not when there's a beautiful spell to break. I have to remain a virgin. I want this night to be perfect. I want to feel every long, hard inch of this man, but ... losing my virginity to him could ruin us both. Seeing how distant Savero and Cristiano are with each other makes me think no love will be lost between the two of them, but a lot of face would be. In fact, Savero might even kill to restore his reputation. Would he kill his own brother? The fact I don't know the answer to that makes me even more wary of giving my virginity to someone other than the Di Santo don.

He gently pushes my legs outward, the fire in his eyes no less dim for me. "We're not doing that," he says, and my anxious thoughts slow. "But we're doing the next best thing."

And just like that, my thoughts bounce back to the beat of, What the actual fuck? Has he forgotten I have zero experience?

I keep my mouth shut and lie back on the comforter with my legs extended outward. He nestles himself carefully between them and lets his cock fall heavily onto my clit. It makes me startle, but the sensation of having his hard lines and ridges resting against my sensitive nub makes me dizzy with desire.

He continues to lower his hips until his cock is applying a firm pressure against the cluster of nerve endings. He looks into my eyes as if he's waiting for permission. I give him a light nod, and he starts to rub his cock up and down my pussy.

At first it feels strange, but very quickly, it makes me hot and breathless. In fact, I'm panting, and the need to find that release again is overwhelming. How can having a cock rub up and down on my clit make me want to come so fast?

I bite down on the top of his arm, and he lets out an annoyed growl. His cock doubles down on its task, pressing me just hard enough into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his back, pulling him closer, firmer.

"Fuck." He breathes hot, reckless air into my ear, and I shift my hips, needing more.

Lost in mindlessness, I don't realize how full I feel until he freezes above me ...

"Trilby . . ."

. . . and says my name .

I drag my awareness back to his face and almost recoil at his expression. He looks anguished and ... haunted .

"What—?"

His voice cracks. "I'm inside you."

Suddenly, the sensation makes sense. It isn't just his wide body keeping my legs apart; it's the crown of his cock inside of me.

"Do something." His eyes are narrow and pleading. "Before I lose my fucking mind."

What?

I battle with his demand. I don't want to move. I want him to inch deeper and fill me completely. I want him to fuck me into the mattress, virginity or no virginity—I don't care.

"Trilby!" The bed shakes beneath his braced arms and barely contained growl. He sucks in a tight breath and pushes his cock in by a fraction.

We both groan.

How can we deny ourselves and each other when we both want this so badly ?

My head is spinning, and my ability to think straight has evaporated, along with my conviction.

He drops his head. His shoulders are glistening with sweat.

Another fraction.

I mewl like a cat, and the already tight walls of my pussy close around him like lips sucking on a popsicle. My body knows what it needs better than I do.

He pumps lightly and groans like a lion taunting its next kill.

This is too good to stop. The sensation is strange, unfamiliar, but so right I can't argue with it.

"Stop me," he whispers again. "Don't let me ruin your life."

He pumps again, and I cry out, the need making my pussy throb painfully.

"I want you," I purr. "Don't pull out, Cristiano, please," I beg him mindlessly.

He pumps a few more times, refusing to push his cock more than a quarter way in. It's agonizing.

He fists a hand in my hair, forcing my eyes up to his."You have no idea how much I want to push through your barrier, break in your walls, and come deep in your gut while I swallow your moans."

There's a "but," but it doesn't come. Instead he lowers his face into the crook of my neck and groans.

I use all my strength to squeeze myself around his cock. He jerks against me, and I hear his teeth gnash together.

I'm losing my damn mind. I can't do this slowly—it's going to hurt. But if he moves just another inch, he'll break me in. Do I want that?

I don't know. I just want him .

Eventually, his breaths soften, and he lifts his head, casting a warm gaze across my frazzled features. "I'm pulling out," he says quietly. "Just give me a minute."

He bends his arms, and the veins pop out with the pressure of holding himself up for so long. I feel his lips caress my ear, and he nuzzles my lobe. I'm dying of need.

My heart sinks. I know he has to pull out, but I don't want to stop.

A thought crosses my mind. "I want to taste you," I whisper shyly.

"Are you sure?" His lips brush the side of my throat.

"Yes, I am."

I feel hollow when he keeps his word and withdraws his cock. When he crawls up over me, bringing his cock to lay on my chest, I feel terrified. First, I've never done this before, and second, I might die of suffocation.

"What ... um, what do I do?" I blink up at him.

He swallows loudly and strokes his hand down the shaft, cupping the crown in his palm. "We can take it slow." His voice cracks. "Start by maybe licking it a little."

I nod and pull him towards my lips, then I press a kiss to the crown—long, hot and slow.

His jaw unhinges, his mouth curling around a throaty gasp. "Or that," he grunts, swallowing again.

I'm instantly addicted to the look on his face. I push my tongue out tentatively and flick it over the beautiful glistening tip. He releases a string of curses, and it makes my eyelids pop, because, again, I hardly did anything.

A pearl of moisture collects on the edge, and I lick it away. It tastes salty and foreign, but it's him .

That thought alone propels me forward, and I wrap my lips around him.

His hands plummet into the comforter on either side of my head.

"Fuck. Fuck. "

I close my eyes and suck him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the circumference. I bring my hands up to his ass, and a deep lust sweeps over me at the feel of his rock-hard glutes. He's shaking, and it only feeds my frenzy. I pull him deeper, opening my throat instinctively.

Italian profanities gush from his lips, and I entangle myself in his desperation. My tongue sweeps and swirls, swallowing more of his pre-cum, and my cheeks hollow as I pull him in and suck.

In the midst of it all, his fingers find my pussy. I don't know what the hell he's doing to it, but I never want him to stop. He strokes it, tweaks it, and spanks it, and I groan my approval around his cock.

"I'm going to come down your throat," he chokes out. "Are you ready for that, little one?"

I nod, and I'm rewarded with two fingers inside my pussy. I buck my hips up toward him, coaxing them deeper. He growls with frustration, and I realize he doesn't want to break my hymen with his fingers either.

"Suck me, Trilby. Oh God, that's perfect. Your lips are so soft, so warm."

I pull his ass toward me in reckless thrusts. He massages my clit with maddening focus, and I feel it sharpen beneath his fingers. I'm going to explode.

"Yes, baby. Harder, deeper. Fuck . You suck me so damn good."

His filthy praise drives me over the edge, and I jerk up into his hand. As I spasm beneath him, my mouth fills up with his semen.

"Don't stop," he bites out, fingering me with relentless rhythm.

I keep swallowing until there's nothing left, then I slowly ease him out of my mouth. When he collapses onto the bed, I set to work.

I lick him clean.

Every rock-hard inch of him.

I crawl up to my hands and knees and lick around the base, the tops of his thighs, up the length to the crown, and across every ridge. His fingers work through my hair, soft moans coasting over my ears.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers.

I look up and drown immediately in those deep brown eyes. He gently pushes me back onto the bed and brings his mouth to my tits, then he proceeds to spend the next ten minutes making out with them both.

I'm a soaking-wet mess by the time he comes up for air, and all it takes is a swipe of his tongue over my clit and I'm coming again.

We can't fuck, but we can do everything else.

And we do.

I wake up with an awareness of warmth around me. I'm curled into Cristiano's large, firm body, my face nuzzled into his chest. I breathe him in, not wanting to break the spell by moving.

"You didn't have nightmares," he says softly, the vibration of his voice touching my cheek.

I let my eyes drift closed. "Did you hold me like this all night?"

He presses his lips into my hair, and I feel him smile with his whole body. "Yeah."

I lift my head and immediately drown in the look he's giving me. Like I'm the most precious thing he's ever held.

"Thank you," I say softly.

"What for?"

I stroke my fingertips down his chest. "For everything. But especially for last night. And ..."

"And?"

"And for not taking my virginity."

His chest turns suddenly rigid.

"It would have made everything so much more complicated. And if Savero ever discovered this ..."

A chill winds its way down my spine at the thought of Savero finding out about me and Cristiano.

I hear his teeth grinding above me.

"You know why I'm leaving after the wedding, don't you?"

My lack of response leaves the air to fill with heavy breaths.

"I can't stand by and see you become married to another man, least of all my own flesh and blood. It will kill me."

"I don't want to marry him," I whisper. "I have no choice."

His tone is laden with defeat. "And if I try to stop it, it won't be me who pays—it will be your family. I'll never be able to live with myself."

I squeeze my eyes closed in the hope tears won't fall. My heart drops, knowing there's nothing he can—or will—do to keep me.

"Will you do me one favor?"

I look up.

"You said yourself you don't handle alcohol well. Will you please refrain from drinking it? I can't bear the thought of you getting into a ... predicament ... and I'm not there to look out for you."

"I managed just fine before you showed up," I mutter.

His tone is gentle. "Will you please just do it for me?"

I sigh. He doesn't have to know. In fact, he'll be on the opposite coast. "Okay."

We fall silent again, and I listen to the steady beats of his heart. Then his fingers draw circles on my back.

"That comb you wear in your hair ..."

"Yes?"

"It's special to you."

I nod and look up. "It was my mama's."

He bends his head and kisses the tip of my nose. "It suits you."

A warm glow settles over me, and I snuggle into him.

"Will you promise me one more thing?"

I nod against his chest.

"Will you wear it when you think of me?"

I suck in a breath and lift my gaze to his. "Why?"

"Because as soon as you walk out that door, we'll have to pretend this never happened. But if I see you wearing that, I'll know it really did."

I pull myself from his embrace and crawl up to his lips. He moans when I kiss him hard.

After a few minutes, we come up for air, and he holds my face in his palms.

"You know what pisses me off the most?"

"What?" I whisper.

"I fucking found you first."