Page 64 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
I back Martina against the crumbling wall of the fabric store where my mother used to buy patterned silk for her dresses, and I begin working down a list of all the things I’ve wanted to do to her since that day by the pool. I can be honest with myself in a dream. Honest about the fact that since that moment, not a single hour has gone by without me thinking about how good it would feel to bury myself to the hilt inside of her.
She’s tiny. My hands span the entirety of her waist, and my body engulfs her. Her sweet summer scent surrounds me and I press my nose to her throat where it’s strongest.Fuck. I’ve never smelled anything better.
My lips part on a moan, and I press them again her flesh. She’s soft and pliant, tilting her head to the side to give me the access I crave. I skim my lips down to her chest, dip my tongue into her neckline, squeeze her breasts. It’s fucking heaven. My cock is desperate for more as I grind against her, lifting up her hands over her head, her skirt over her thighs. My fingertips skim over her panties.
“Giorgio, stop.”
Tearing myself away from her is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but something in her voice gives me pause.
When I look at her, my heart sinks.
A wet track runs from her bottom eyelid down her cheek.
“Don’t cry,” I tell her even as a crack resounds inside my chest.
Even in a dream, I’m not good enough for her.
Even in a dream, it doesn’t work.
“Don’t cry, Martina.”
I should step away, but the knowledge that this can never happen again keeps me frozen.
One last kiss, and then I’m done, I tell myself.
Wrapping my palm around the back of her delicate neck, I dip my head and press my mouth against her pink lips.
And the next time I blink, we aren’t on Via Cassano anymore. We’re lying on the kitchen floor in the castello.
Her eyes are wide and wet andfrightenedas she stares up at me, her hair a messy golden pool beneath her head.
I scramble off her, off the floor.
There is no air. Not a square centimeter of oxygen floating anywhere in this room.
My palms slam against the marble counter, and I put my weight on it, giving her a view of my back while my thoughts sprint over boulders and cracked earth to catch up with what just happened.
We were in the dining room, eating, and then…
What happened?
What the fuck happened to make me lose my head like that?
My heart beats so hard it feels like it might break through my ribs. I’ve never lost control like that, notsince…
Nausea roils though me.
“Gio,” she whispers, her voice broken and raw.
Did she scream for help? Did Imakeher scream?
“I’m sorry,” she says.
She’s closer now, but I still can’t look at her. What have I done? Her apology floods a sour taste through my mouth. What the fuck is she apologizing for?
“It’s my fault. The tea I gave you… It was meant to put you to sleep.”
My eyes narrow at the jar of sugar sitting on a wooden shelf in front of me. “What?”
