Page 81 of The Temptation

I don’t miss the barely-there black silk negligee she’s wearing, but the little minx was quick to hide it because I don’t doubt for a second she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You need to go back to your own bed.”

“Not happening,” she says through a yawn, and burrows deeper into the mattress. “It’s my wedding night, and since there’s no cherry-popping happening, the least you can do is let me sleep next to my husband.”

Husband.

That’s a word I never thought would be used to describe me in this lifetime. Yet here I am, married, and apparently sharing a bed with a woman who has no intention of playing by the rules. In her defence, does she ever?

“Am I going to wake up in the middle of the night to find myself being violated by you again?”

“No,” she murmurs. “And we’ve been over this a million times. Let it go already.”

When she rolls over in a huff and gives me her back, effectively dismissing me, I know I’ve lost the fight. Short of physically carrying her back to her own room, there’s nothing more I can do.

And let’s be clear, I’m not going to touch her. Not when she’s wearing that scrap of silk, or when she smells as goodas I know she does. Like coconut laced in sin, and everything I shouldn’t want. Especially when she’s already under my skin more than she should be.

So, I just stand there, staring at her silhouette for a moment before admitting defeat and switching off the light.

As soon as I make my way to my side of the bed and slip under the covers, she shimmies closer and drapes her arm around my waist.

“What are you doing?” I grumble.

“Snuggling was part of the deal too, Romeo.”

“Fuck my life,” I mumble under my breath.

“Goodnight, Mr De Luca,” she says, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder.

“Goodnight,” I growl as she shifts even closer, moulding the length of her body against mine.

“Goodnight,what?” she teases.

I know exactly where she’s going with this, but the first thing that comes to mind is,Goodnight, pain in my arse.But somehow, the words she wants slip out instead.

“Goodnight, Mrs De Luca.”

My back is to her, so I can’t see her face, but I somehow know she’s smiling.

I wake to find myself still in the safe house. A moment ago, I was somewhere else, stretched out on a tropical beach, cocktail in hand, palm trees swaying overhead. My wife was beside me, sun-kissed and smiling, wearingthatbikini.

The barely there one that should be illegal in at least forty-seven countries.

The one she wore when I babysat her and Arabella while Dante was in Italy.

The one that showcases every glorious inch of her beautiful body.

The one that still haunts me to this fucking day.

Despite anticipating not getting any sleep last night, I slept like a damn baby. Better than I have in years.

Somewhere during the night, we must have changed positions, because Lucia is now wrapped tightly in my arms, and my rock-hard, aching cock is nestled against that tight arse of hers.

My face is buried in her coconut-scented hair. It’s probably the reason I had that dream in the first place. Makes sense. Even unconscious, my body seems to know exactly what kind of trouble this woman is. She’s like some angelic terrorist. A seductive temptress who is hellbent on wearing me down.

I suck in a sharp breath and hold it. I’m not game enough to move. I swear, if my dick gains any friction, I’m liable to do something that will only complicate this shitshow more.

This marriage must remain unconsummated. It’s the only real option I have. As much as I’d like to fuck this woman out of my system, I can’t cross that line. In the long run, staying strong will make things easier for both of us. No blurred lines. No false hope. If we never go there, there’s nothing to untangle when this ends.