Page 10 of Bound By Honor

My breath mingles with hers as our limbs tangle on the mat, creating a rhythm that pulses through the dimly lit dojo. This is how I imagined it could be with her when I wasn’t convincing myself that it was wrong to pursue her. Her hands, strong andskilled from hours of training, slide over my back, pushing me closer into her orbit.

"I bet you thought this was just another training session," I whisper against her lips, a half-hearted attempt at reason in a moment defying logic.

Sofia pulls back slightly, her eyes lit with a fire that reflects my own. "Maybe it was supposed to be. But sometimes, the best techniques are learned off-script."

Her words spark something reckless within me—a desire to teach and explore. My hands frame her face, fingers weaving through her hair as our kiss deepens. The world narrows to the sound of our combined breaths and our bodies moving against the soft padding of the judo mats beneath us.

I roll, switching positions so that she is now above me. The shift is fluid, like one of our practiced throws but filled with a new electric charge. She leans down, lips trailing a path from my jaw to my neck, each touch a lesson in control and submission.

"Rocco." Sofia whispers my name, and the sound sends shivers through me, causing me to tighten my hold on her. Her breath catches, and mine comes heavier. "Is this still part of the lesson?" she murmurs against my lips in a playful challenge.

"Off the curriculum," I confess, my hands steady at her waist. Moving from discipline to desire feels natural and inevitable, like a river breaking through a long-ready-to-collapse dam.

The heat between us builds, not just from the exertion of our earlier throws and holds but from something much more intense and torrid. Every touch, every graze of Sofia's skin under my fingers, feels like electricity sparking to life in dormant wires.

Time loses meaning as we explore this new intimacy between gasps of pleasure and guttural moans of our combined lust. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as I press closer, the boundaries between training partners and lovers blurring with every shared breath.

"It's a good thing we spent the day learning about balance," I manage to say between kisses that deepen with every second.

Sofia laughs softly, her forehead resting against mine. "Because right now, I feel like I could fall at any moment."

"And I've got you," I assure her, holding her tightly and silently praying this moment doesn’t end.

Sofia lifts her head, her long lashes fluttering as she gazes into my eyes with a sudden look of confusion. Her breaths come in short, uneven bursts as she pulls away, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “As much as I want to hear those words from you, maybe we should hold off on whatever is happening here,” she says softly.

My hands tighten around her waist, subtly trying to prevent her from sliding off my hips. “What do you mean?” I ask, my heart racing at the thought of ending things now. “You want to stop?”

Sofia shakes her head, the faint scent of grapefruit wafting from her hair as she straightens her wrinkled T-shirt. “No, it's not what I want, but what I need.” She takes a deep breath and looks away, her expression pained. “I think I need to lie down for a bit. We can talk more over dinner.” With that, she jumps to her feet and bolts into the hallway, leaving me aroused, stunned, and utterly rejected.

This isn't over. It’s much too late to stop now.

9

SOFIA

The thump in my chest echoes in my ears as I hover at the entryway of Rocco's darkened study. The faint glow from the hallway spills onto me, turning me into a living shadow on the burgundy carpet. It feels like I'm about to enter another dimension, one with no return ticket, but I can't turn back now.

With a deep breath, I call out his name. “Rocco?” In this world, hesitation is not an option—it's a weakness that can and will be exploited. I learned that lesson long ago.

There's a shift in the air as he emerges from the shadows, his presence commanding. I notice the clench of his jaw and his tightening grip on the back of the leather chair. He's a fortress of a man, but I refuse to be intimidated.

Two long days have crawled by since our inappropriate behavior in the gym, and I’ve spent every second of it hiding in my room. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me with memories of what happened. But now, as I step out into the open air, I can finally breathe again. With each step toward our inevitable conversation, my heart races and my palms sweat.

"Going somewhere?" Rocco's grunts, each syllable laced with a mix of challenge and intrigue.

With determined steps, I stride forward, the fire of my resolve burning fiercely within me. "I need to get in touch with my father’s men—my men." I correct myself. “Before someone else convinces them that my father’s death is the end of the Riccis. They need to know I’m ready to take over.” My words are sharp and precise. "How long do you plan to keep me here against my wishes?"

The tension intensifies as Rocco’s dark eyes bore into me. But I refuse to back down. I will reclaim what is rightfully mine.

He studies me, eyes sharp and penetrating, like he's trying to read the secrets etched into my soul. But I'm an open book of defiance. I can feel the tension coiling between us, a serpent ready to strike. And I'm prepared to dance with danger—it's in my blood.

"Your safety is not up for negotiation," Rocco retorts, crossing the room to stand before me. His proximity is both a threat and a thrill, an electric charge in the silence.

"Neither is my freedom," I shoot back, refusing to back down an inch. I've fought too hard for it and felt the loss of everything that mattered to me. I won't let Rocco—or anyone—cage me again.

Rocco's gaze never leaves mine, unwavering and intense. It's a battle of wills, and for a split second, I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding, a traitorous drum betraying the conflict within.

"Then we're at an impasse," Rocco concludes, his tone final.

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