Page 56 of Whispers in the Dark
Should I play with fire?
Ignite the match that will set this whole platonic thing between us ablaze?
It is my birthday after all…
Against my better judgment, I place the dress beside me and face him. Letting out a deep breath, I say, “I should probably get out of this.” With a slight tremble in my fingers, I reach for the fabric covering my shoulders and tug it down my arms. Mauro’s eyes darken with hunger, unable to look away as I continue to slowly slide the fabric along until it eventually falls to my ankles.
I kick it to the side and stand before him in my black lace bra, matching thong, and heels, my heart beating uncontrollably fast. His eyes skim over me approvingly, sending heat pulsing through my veins.
My nerves morph into something dangerous. Something that feels an awful lot like desire.
My core pulses with need, his gaze creating a throb in my center. One I’ve never come close to experiencing.
I swallow down my hesitations and turn around. Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra and toss it to the floor.
A groan resonates behind me, and in response, my body produces wetness between my thighs.
Needing him more with each passing second.
I bend down, knowing the view I’m presenting him with, and pluck the dress between my fingers, holding it open to step into. I shimmy it up and over my thighs and stomach and then slide each of my arms beneath the spaghetti straps. When I’m finished, I push my hair to the side and glance over my shoulder. He stands as still as a statue, the only indication that he’s struggling is the tight fist clenched against his chest. My eyes trail down to his pants, where it’s practically impossible to miss his hardening length pressing against the fabric.Wow.
We’ve been married for weeks now, but not once has he crossed the line. The one I find myself thinking about more and more with each passing day. Especially at night when I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling as his sculpted body lies right beside mine. And maybe, because of that, I’m slightly annoyed at how unaffected by me he appears in these moments… Even if this is all just pretend.
I wonder what he would think if he knew I bring myself to climax by thinking about him…
Licking my bottom lip, I ask, “Can you get the zipper for me?”
He pushes himself off the frame and closes the distance between us, stopping directly behind me. His presence encapsulates me, turning my brain into mush as his scent wraps around me in a vise I can’t escape. I inhale slowly as the pads of his fingers press against the top of my spine and slowly skim down. A shiver crashes over me like a wildfire that can’t be contained. His hand grips my waist as his other hand claspsaround the pull and gently slides it up, the fabric tightening around my ribs.
My breath comes out in quick pants as I squeeze my thighs together and close my eyes.
This is all too much.
Yet, not enough.
Not anywhere near what my body craves and needs from him.
After he reaches the top, he smooths his hand down my back, his other hand tightening his hold around my waist as if he finds it impossible to let go, but eventually does. He takes a step back, and I spin around, my hair swaying across my bare shoulders.
He keeps a safe distance between us.
A distance I suddenly want to vanish.
I look down at myself and slowly move my hips, watching the fringe dance. Glancing up, I find his jaw clenching and his eyes glued to my body.
“Do I look okay?”
A growl reverberates in his throat as he steps closer, his hand pressing against my chest as he pushes me alongside the glass. He leans down, his hand snaking around my throat, his fingers threading through my hair as he holds me. The thundering of my heart echoes in my ears as he brushes his lips over my skin.
“Beau…tiful,” he growls with dominance.
Heat courses through my chest as a swirling storm of emotions overtakes me.
“Mauro…” I breathe as he presses his lips beneath my ear, leaving me breathless. My fingers reach out, curling into his waistcoat, unknowingly inching myself into his hold.
His fingers splay out over my ribs, tugging me against him.
His possessive touch causes a whimper to slip past my lips.
