Page 78 of Third Degree

“I know I wasn’t as experienced…” she trailed off and immediately, I grabbed her shoulders and turned her around so she was facing me. Her eyes filled with concern.

“Don’t.” I stopped her by placing a light kiss on her lips. “Don’t do that.”

She peered down at the water in the tub, her lower lip jutting out, and I carefully lifted her jaw up with my thumb. “I’ve never, ever in my life, been on my knees bathing someone. I’ve never felt the way I do when I’m with you.”

She gave me a pointed look.

“I’m serious. I was happily married for a long time, amore. I had never been single because I got married when I turned eighteen. I loved Bea; I have told you this before. I loved her, but we got married because she was pregnant. Because we went against our culture and were forced to get married.”

I looked at her and felt my chest constrict.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to get married to just anyone. I know what it feels like to be married to someone you eventually grow to care about. But being in love, like head over heels, instant romantic movie style? That I hadn’t experienced until the day I met you at eighteen years old. So, what we did tonight, it was life-changing. For both of us,” I mused and peppered her cheek with kisses.

“Can I get out now?” she inquired, looking at me. The hold this woman had on me was undeniable.

Yet her question also brought a twinge of sadness. The fact that she had to ask permission to leave her bath, her yearning to have the freedom to make her own choices but not fully knowing how.

I wanted to give that to her. I wanted to grant her autonomy and so much more.

Perhaps that’s why I was so upset over seeing her anger about the wedding. She was right. I should have shared the plan with her. She should have been involved in the planning process. She should have had a voice because she deserved it.

But breaking free from the constraints of a culture that dictates how a man should behave and how a woman should serve was challenging for both of us.

“If you want to.” I started to stand and used the tub for support to lift myself up.

“Careful now, Marchetti,” Gianna warned as she lifted herself from the tub, looking at me with her full, vulnerable, and raw body. Such a beautiful woman. “You’re starting to show your age.” She laughed again, and I wrapped her up in a towel, not letting my grin get too wide and trying to keep some of the man card I may have left.

“You think you’re so funny,” I mused as I toweled her down carefully over her backside, where she was still raw and red from the belt.

I took the Aquaphor I had grabbed and started to coat her with it.

“Mmm…” she drowsily cooed, and I could feel my cock twitch.

“Gianna, you’ve got to cut it out with those noises outside the bedroom,” I grumbled, my hand gliding over her ass. Her skin, a blend of satin and cream, adorned with the faint marks of the belt, perfectly accentuated the enticing curve of her back.

When I was done, I gave her one of my t-shirts, and it fell well past her knees. Then I lifted her up and carried her to my bed.

“But my bedroom…” She trailed off and looked out the door.

I stared her down. “I’m trying my fucking hardest to be a gentleman right now, but abso-fucking-lutely not. You are sleeping with me now. Be mad at me all you want in the morning.”

She didn’t fight me, instead sighing a few more times before settling down on the bed.

I nestled beside her, pulling her waist closer to my body. The only time we had shared a bed before was that memorable night at the beach, where sleep finally claimed us both. Gianna turned, aligning our faces so they were inches apart. Her breath, warm and gentle, grazed against my chest.

“I guess I found the ultimate cure for my insomnia,” she teased, her voice laced with playful humor.

“Count on me to help you every night,” I replied, grinning as she lightly slapped my chest. I lifted her chin, ensuring her gaze met mine, revealing a sleepy yet alluring desire in her eyes.

“Promise?” she inquired, nestling closer to me as I wrapped my arms around her.

“Forever,” I vowed, holding her tightly in my embrace.

The next morning—well, by the time we had gotten up, it was well into the afternoon already—we lazily sat around in bed, where I had taken it upon myself to order more room service.

I rolled over and asked her, “How do you feel after last night?”

She batted her long lashes before looking up at me. “A little sore, but amazing.”

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