Page 76 of Sweet Prison

“Yes.” A trembling… eager reply.

I nod and finish unbuttoning my shirt. Shrugging it off to let it fall to the floor. Next, I bring my hand to the waistband of my pants. Waiting.

“Everything. Please,” she rasps, biting her lower lip as her eyes roam over my upper body.

A piece at a time, I continue undressing. Once the last shred of my clothing is off, I stand before her and let her look her fill. Her eyes flash with hunger. She resembles a ravenous huntress, eyeing her prey.

That turns me so fucking on.

Minutes pass, yet she just keeps looking. Taking me in. One endless breath at a time.

“You don’t have a problem being naked in front of me?” she finally asks. “Letting me shamelessly ogle you?”

“No. My problem is revealing what hides inside. Even before, it was hard for me to trust people. In my mind, everyone is a potential threat.” With my thumb under her chin, I tilt her face up. “Never with you, though. I trust you completely. Without a single reservation. I trust you more than I trust myself. So, please, feel free to ogle. I’m all yours anyway. Body. Soul. All yours, Zahara.”

“Why?” she whispers. “How can you trust me but no one else?”

“Because… I love you, baby. With everything in me—good or bad—I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Goose bumps explode all over my body, spreading from my limbs to chase the shivers rushing down my spine. As Massimo’s admission washes over me, I suck it in. Each individual sound and syllable. My hand shakes when I reach out and press my palm to his bare chest. Hot skin. Taut muscle. And the wild beating of his heart. I feel him.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I’m not even certain when it happened, Massimo.” My voice nearly breaks as I whisper the words. “Is… is this a dream?”

A gentle smile tugs his lips. Without breaking our eye contact, he lifts my hand toward himself.

“Maybe.” His mouth drifts over the inside of my wrist. “Only one way to find out.”

Tongue. Warm and wet, licking my pulse point. A graze of his teeth as he sucks on my skin. And then, a lightning-fast sharp sting—there one moment and gone just as quickly. But long enough to assure me I’m awake.

Not a dream.

His lips on my wrist, peppering it with kisses. Soothing the ache and exploring as far as they can go. Only up to the fringe of my lace sleeve. Massimo does not rush, does not try to push up the fabric. Languid, tender, he savors me as I am.

Suddenly, I can’t stand it. The fabric that’s shielding the rest of me from his kiss.

I always sleep in long-sleeved pajamas because I’m more comfortable that way, but in this moment… now… I need mynightie off. I don’t want any barriers between us. I want to feel the softness of his lips. His open-mouthed kisses, his licks, and the nibbling of his teeth. I want to feel it all. Everywhere.

“Tear it off,” I croak. “The nightgown.”

“Angel…”

“Now, Massimo.”

He glances up from my wrist, and his gaze collides with mine. His teeth close over the cuff of my sleeve. I suck in a breath just as he jerks his head, and the unmistakable sound of tearing lace echoes throughout the room.

A heartbeat later, his lips are on my wrist again, gliding upward along the inside of my forearm. More ripping fills the silence as he continues to demolish the fabric, section by section. Each destructive tear is followed by more kisses, lazily feathered over the newly exposed skin. He doesn’t stop until he reaches my shoulder. And then, he switches to my other arm.

A touch of lips. “So soft.” Enthusiastic tearing. “So, so damn soft.” A glide of the tongue, followed by a kiss.

My breath leaves me so fast that my lungs are struggling to keep up. My head is spinning. Is my blood crying for oxygen, or is this due to the magic of his lips?

There’s no time to contemplate the answer because Massimo moves on to the column of my neck. I stretch, giving him greater access, anything for more of the soothing pressure of his mouth on me. And then, a new wave of tremors racks me as he gently bites my collarbone. My panties are completely soaked already, but I can feel more wetness pooling between my thighs.

The next sounds are of my nightie being ripped right down the middle, followed by the ping of tiny buttons as they collide with whatever surface blocks their path after they are sent flyingevery which way. Cool air rushes against my overheating skin as the fine silk flutters around me like wounded wings before drifting down to land at his feet. In that split second, I come alive, soaring as high as the clouds, as if a massive weight has been lifted off my back.

Free. I feel free.

“Perfection,” Massimo utters in a strangled voice. His fingers are trailing up my arms. Slowly. Deliberately. Over my shoulders and down the valley between my breasts. Then, his palms glide over my hips toward my back.

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