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I feel her shiver as my thumb brushes her cheek, slow and deliberate. “What do you think?” I murmur, leaning in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. Her breath hitches.
My fingers drift lower, trailing the edge of her jaw until they rest lightly at the base of her neck—right over the fluttering pulse that gives her away.
My other hand finds her waist, sliding down her curves with practiced ease until it settles on her hip, gripping her just enough to make her gasp. She’s soft. So fucking soft, even with the towel between her skin and mine.
My fingers dig into the cotton, and I take a second to think about ripping it off her body. “You’re shaking,” I whisper, tightening my hold. “Are you scared…or excited?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Why?” I mutter as my fingers skim the end of the towel, barely touching her thigh. “Are you scared of how much you want this? How much you want me to touch you?”
She gulps heavily and turns her head away.
“No,” I say. I shake my head, cupping her chin and forcing her face back to mine. “I told you, didn’t I? You’re going to be my wife. And you’ll warm my bed.”
If I can’t get Marco, I’ll use his daughter as I please.
“Please.”
Something about the way she says the single word, like a broken plea, breaks through the fog in my mind. I see the single tear that falls down her face and the scared look in her eyes—like a rabbit caught in a trap, desperately gnawing at his leg to escape.
My hands fall away like they touched a live wire, and I step back. She falls to the ground as I let go, curling into a ball and shaking all over.
What the hell did I just do?
WhatwasI doing?
“Isabella—” My voice sounds like it’s coming from someone else.
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks around the word. She won’t even look at me. “Please…go away. I beg you.”
The breath leaves my lungs like a punch. I stare for a second longer, unsure if I’m more furious at her for making me feel this way or at myself for what I’ve done.
I don’t speak again. With one last look at her, I spin on my heel and storm out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the walls.
She was the one taunting me yesterday, wasn’t she? The starfish.“I’m sure you can work something out. You’re big and strong,after all.”So why the hell do I feel like the monster now?
My fist curls as I walk into the kitchen, heading mindlessly for the sink as if water will somehow wash away my guilt.
It doesn’t matter,I tell myself as I stand in front of the running water. I don’t care if she’s terrified. Isabella Ricci is nothing more than a means to an end. I shouldn’t care how she feels, if she hasn’t served her purpose for being here.
Being my wife and giving me an heir. I won’t touch her. Not yet.
But she’ll be my wife. Today.
6
ISABELLA
My stomach rumbles loudly as I pull the covers over my head and tuck my legs closer to my stomach, curling up like a ball.
It’s not going to make the hunger go away magically, and I might eventually pass out from the pangs that are ravaging my body, but if it keeps me in this room, behind that door, then I would rather pass out than take a step over the threshold.
Not after what happened last night.
I’m scared. I know.
As much as I hate to admit it, I am scared.