Page 15

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering. “And?”

He meets my eyes, his thumb brushing just beneath the curve of my breast. “You’re even more dangerous than I imagined.”

I let out a shaky laugh, half nerves, half need. “So, stop.”

“You don’t want me to.”

I don’t.

My hands find the hem of his crewneck. I tug it upward, and he helps me, muscles flexing as the fabric clears his body.

His chest is all sculpted planes and taut heat, and when I run my hands down the ridges of his stomach, he hisses through his teeth.

“You have no idea what you do to me, dolcezza .”

He lifts me effortlessly, settling me across his lap so I’m straddling him.

The bulge beneath his joggers presses hard between my thighs, and my body responds on instinct, hips rolling, chasing friction.

“Sophie…” His head drops to my shoulder. “We need…do you have…?”

“Bedroom. Top drawer.”

In a blur, he’s standing, gripping my ass and cradling me against his chest like I weigh nothing. His mouth finds mine again as we stumble toward my room, kissing and laughing and gasping between every step.

We fall into my bed, and this time, there’s no hesitation. No games.

Just heat. Need. Him.

I break the kiss, gasping for breath.

His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged. His heart pounds in his chest, his growl vibrates in his throat. "Sophie… Fuck, Sophie."

I smile, a slow, sensual smile. "Fuck me, Alessio. Fuck me like you mean it."

He reaches into the top drawer, grabs a condom from the open box, and places it to the side.

He moves with purpose, dragging his hands down my body.

His mouth finds the curve of my breast, his tongue flicking teasing circles until I’m writhing beneath him.

“You’re gorgeous, dolcezza. Every inch of you.”

I reach for the waistband of his joggers, my fingers fumbling with the drawstrings.

He helps me, his hands covering mine, his breath hot on my neck, his heart beating, his chest rising and falling. The power in him, the strength, the control.

The heat of him, the weight of him. The hardness of his cock in the bulge in his pants.

It all wrecks me.

I pull down his sweats and boxers in one go, freeing his straining erection. I grip his cock.

Fuck .

He's so big in my hand that I can't close my fist fully.

I pump his hardened length with slow agonizing strokes, eliciting a guttural moan from Alessio.

"Fuck, dolcezza , you see how hard you make me."

His fingers hook in the waistband of my panties, pulling them down, his fingers trace the curve of my ass, the backs of my thighs.

I shiver, my body arching into his touch.

He growls, a deep, primal sound, and I know he wants me as much as I want him.

He leans back onto his knees as I lay in front of him, gazing down to my glistening pussy.

"You're so wet for me, dolcezza ." He grips his dick, precum oozing from the tip.

Taking the condom, he removes it from the package and rolls it down his shaft.

He leans forward to kiss me while angling hips toward my aching core.

His cock slides into my wet pussy in one smooth stroke.

I gasp, my body arching into his.

He's big, bigger than I remembered, and he fills me completely until I can’t think.

I’m overwhelmed by every inch of him, the heat of his skin, the hardness of his cock. His control as he starts to move, his hips thrusting against mine.

I clutch his shoulders, anchoring myself as he moves, and the world falls away.

Our bodies move together in sync, each movement deep and deliberate.

He holds eye contact the entire time, almost daring me to look away. As if he’s searching for something in me.

And maybe I’m searching, too.

Because this doesn’t feel like just sex. It feels like a question we’re both too scared to ask.

He moves like he’s memorizing me. Like every stroke is an apology, a promise, a plea not to push him away.

And I feel it in every thrust.

He curls his hand around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his as we climb together, tension coiling tighter and tighter, growing and waiting to crash over us in waves.

The pressure builds quickly, but I don’t want to hold back. I want to shatter with him.

“Open your eyes, dolcezza . I want to see you fall apart.”

I do.

He reaches below, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs it, circling, pressing, teasing.

I gasp, my body arching into his.

The pleasure is intense, and my orgasm builds, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my belly.

He kisses my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.

He bites down, his teeth sinking into my flesh, and I gasp, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

His desperation, his need, as he fucks me harder, faster, his hips colliding against mine is a living, breathing thing.

I come, my body shaking, my pussy clenching around his cock.

He growls, a deep, primal sound, as he comes too, his cock pulsing inside me.

He buries his face in my neck as he releases, his entire body shuddering.

We stay tangled for what feels like forever, breathless and silent in the dark.

Then he lifts his head and kisses me, soft, slow, grateful.

And when he finally pulls me close and whispers, “You wreck me, Soph,” I believe him.

Because he’s wrecked me too.

The room is quiet now. Too quiet.

The faint hum of the city outside, the steady rhythm of Alessio’s breathing beside me, all of it feels louder in the silence that follows.

I lie tangled in the sheets, the warmth of his body still pressed faintly against my side.

My skin is still buzzing, my heart still racing, but it’s not just from the sex. It’s from everything that came before it. Everything he said. Everything I admitted. Everything we didn’t say.

I feel raw. Stripped down to the bone. Like he didn’t just touch my body, he cracked me open and saw all the pieces I’ve spent years hiding.

And now I don’t know what to do with the mess we’ve made.

Carefully, I shift out from under his arm and slide out of bed.

My legs feel unsteady, my chest tight with things I can’t name.

I find my sweatshirt and pull it on, needing something, anything, to cover myself. To feel like me again.

I pause at the door, glancing back at him.

He’s asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Because if I let myself stay, I’ll fall. And there’s no safety net at the bottom of this.

I slip down the hall and into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. I lean back against it, heart pounding, breath shallow.

That was a mistake.

It has to be a mistake.

We crossed a line we can’t uncross. And if I let myself believe it meant something, if I let myself want more… I’ll lose everything I’ve fought to rebuild.

But the memory of his hands on me, the sound of his voice saying, “You wreck me, Soph,” cling to me like smoke. Like a scar I’m not ready to heal.

And worst of all?

A part of me doesn’t want to.

I pull the sweatshirt tighter around me. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and head toward the kitchen for water, hoping the cold will shock me back into clarity.

But I stop in my tracks when I hear his voice.

Low. Clipped. Just past the hallway.

He’s awake.

I creep toward the sound, careful not to make a noise.

He’s standing with his back to me, shirtless again, phone pressed to his ear.

“No, she doesn’t know. And she won’t. Got it?”

I freeze.

My breath catches.

The tone isn’t familiar. It’s colder. Sharper. A version of him I haven’t met before.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I take a slow step backward, retreating into the shadows before he can see me.

What the hell is he hiding?

And why does it feel like he just proved every one of my worst fears?