Page 14 of Reckless Love

I sighed. “No.”

“Is there a specific reason why you’ve opted to remain a virgin?” His question took me by surprise.

“I guess not,” I answered, wishing I could figure out what to do with my arms. They were just hanging limp at my sides. I should touch him, right? I awkwardly placed my palms on his chest.

His full lips quirked. “Why do I feel like you’re still not being honest?”

I huffed. “Fine, my Nonna was a devout Catholic who believed premarital sex was a sin. I sat through several lectures about the value of my flower,” I cringed a little, “and I guess it stuck.”

“Are you religious?”

I gaped up at him. “Are we seriously debating theology while I’m in my underwear?”

His lips curved into a devastating grin. “I’d prefer having all discussions with you in your underwear. In fact, I think it should be a rule that conversations be had while you’re in a state of undress.”

“Why not naked?” I deadpanned.

He didn’t blink. “Fine by me. I didn’t want to come across as rude by demanding nudity right off the bat, but if you’re offering…”

A laugh bubbled out of me as I caught the teasing glint in his eyes. Who knew Warwick Forrester, billionaire playboy and corporate titan, had a sense of humor?

“Maybe you should be naked, too,” I countered, my hands feeling less awkward on his chest the longer they rested there. His skin was soft, the muscles beneath it hard and sculpted, with a strength I wanted to snuggle into when the storms rolled in.

His voice dropped several octaves. “Sweetheart, I’ll be naked anytime you ask.” His thumb rubbed slow circles on my hip bone as the hand around my throat slid to the back of my neck. He leaned his forehead against mine and drew in a slow breath. “I forgot to tell you how stunning you looked today. And how goddamn lucky I am that you’re mine.”

Mine.

Not my wife, just mine.

A shiver rolled through me as I shared oxygen with him, our breaths coming out in shallow pants. The way he simply stated I was his should’ve sent me into a panic, into worry. But it didn’t.

Instead, something darkly forbidden unfurled low in my belly. “Wick.”

His nose bumped mine. “I’m going to kiss you now, Alessia.”

“And then what?” I whispered.

He grinned again, and I felt my legs turn to jelly. “Then I’m going to make my wife scream my name while I fuck her.”

Six

My stomach swooped so hard, so fast, I thought I might throw up. Tingles erupted across my nerve endings, and my brain short-circuited as I stared into Wick’s dark eyes. They were deep pools of onyx, as dark and dangerous as the man himself. Falling into them could spell my ruin.

And I was hovering on the edge of a giant chasm, ready to tumble headfirst.

Moving slowly, almost like he was giving me an out, Wick lowered his head. When his lips were a breath away from mine, his gaze swept down and I felt my eyelids flutter shut.

The first press of his mouth to mine was gentle, coaxing as he slanted his lips over mine. Instead of shoving his tongue inside and plundering, he took luxuriously languid sips from my mouth, kissing me stupid until my hands slid up the hard planes of his chest and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I let out a soft, breathy noise I’d never heard myself make before. The hand buried in my hair tightened, angling my neck back. My lips parted, and then Wick swept inside, devouring me with blistering fury.

I’d never been kissed so perfectly, so soundly, in my entire life. It was the kind of kiss that I’d dreamed of as a teenager. The sort of all-consuming, axis-shifting, soul-leveling passion that came when two people who were meant for each other finally came together.

Except—wait.

Wick and I couldn’t be meant for each other. Not when it was his fault I was here in the first place.

Stupid hormones being… stupid.

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