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Her trembling frame feels light in my arms, and now that the water has dried from her face, I notice the tears—silent at first, a single drop sliding down her cheek, then a steady stream.

My fists clench instinctively, and I shut my eyes for a brief moment, forcing myself to steady the rage bubbling inside me. I hate seeing her cry. It claws at something deep within me, something I wasn’t prepared to feel.

I scoop her up again, and this time she doesn’t resist. Her body sags against mine, a surrender I wasn’t expecting but one I can’t help but crave. I carry her to the bed, sitting with her cradled in my lap. Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I hold her close as though I can shield her from everything.

She’s stiff at first, her body rigid against mine like she’s bracing for something. I tighten my hold, pressing my lips close to her ear as I whisper, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she doesn’t respond. Then, slowly, I feel the tension drain from her body, melting into mine. The softness of her surrender sets every nerve in my body alight. The warmth of her skin, the way her strawberry scent wraps around me—it’s intoxicating. I’m not sure how long I can keep up this gentle act.

“You’re safe,” I murmur softly, my lips brushing the top of her head.

Her arms move hesitantly, rising slowly before her hands rest against my chest. Her touch is tentative, uncertain, as though she’s still deciding whether I’m worthy of her trust.

That’s it.

I’ve reached my breaking point. I’m a man with needs, and with her naked and vulnerable in my arms, they are clawing to the surface.

My hands slide down, gripping her ass firmly, pulling her flush against me. A soft moan escapes her lips, and it’s enough to undo me.

She pulls back slightly, her wide eyes locking onto mine.

“Straddle me,” I say, my voice low and rough. I don’t expect her to comply, but to my surprise, she does.

She shifts, straddling me fully, her knees resting on either side of my hips. Her bare skin presses against my clothed cock, the warmth bleeding through the fabric and driving me mad.

I glance down, taking in the curve of her breasts, perfect and tempting, before lifting my gaze back to hers. There’s a fire in her eyes now, a challenge, and I know I’ve just crossed the line I can’t come back from.

Wrapping my arms around her neck, I bring her lips down to meet mine.

There’s no softness in the kiss. No hesitation, She needs to know—feel—that I’m starving, and the only thing that can sate me right now is her. Not just a woman. Not just sex.

Her.Aria Paolo.My wife.

I grab a fistful of her hair, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss, pressing harder until our lips crush together. My tongue sweeps between hers, claiming her mouth, devouring her like a man possessed. I want her to understand, with every movement, that I’m not only taking her, I’mclaimingher. Aria’s taste is intoxicating, sweet and maddening, leaving me greedy for more.

Addicting.

She’s pure fire on my tongue.

My hand moves from the nape of her neck, tracing her delicate skin until it rests at her throat. My fingers curl gently, squeezing just enough to draw a sound—a soft, throaty moan that reverberates straight to my core. Her hips jerk once, and I almost think she’s shifting for comfort. But when she bucks again, pressing harder against me, I realize the truth.

She’s grinding her clit against my erection.

Fanculo.

The thought sends a wicked smile to my lips even as I continue devouring her. This doesn’t mean she loves me. Hell, it might not even mean she hates me any less. But it does mean shewants me.

And for now, that’s enough.

Her arousal soaks through the fabric between us, and the sensation has my control fraying at the edges. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer, her silent plea igniting every dark primal part of me.

Her lips crash against mine with a fervor I didn’t anticipate. This isn’t just a kiss—it’s a storm, a release of everything she’s been holding back: fear, anger, frustration, and desire. Every ounce of tension that’s built between us since the day we met seems to pour into this moment.

The way she responds, the way her mouth moves against mine; it’s like she’s caught between resisting me and surrendering entirely.

My hands roam upward, tracing every curve of her bare body, memorizing her with my touch. Her eyes lock onto mine when I pull back to catch my breath. They’re wide, searching, and full of emotions I can’t entirely decipher—vulnerability, longing, and something darker, unspoken.

I press my lips to her collarbone, letting them linger there before whispering, “You’re driving me insane.” My voice is low, rough, but filled with truth. Then I pull her back to me, needing her closer.