Page 83 of Isaia

“I just want to be…you know, good. For you.”

His eyes narrow, the weight of his stare pressing down on me like a physical force. “This isn’t about performance. This isn’t some fucking game where you get graded on how well you fuck, Everly.”

I try to look away, but his hand moves to my jaw, gripping it firmly and forcing my gaze back to his.

“Let me make one thing clear. I don’t want polished. I don’t want practiced. I want you. Raw, unfiltered, exactly as you are.”

My breath hitches, and his eyes flick down to my lips before dragging back up, his expression hard, unrelenting.

“I want to feel every fucking second of you learning what you like. What makes you gasp, what makes you beg.” His hand is on my throat, resting there lightly, his thumb brushing over my pulse. “Besides, the idea of teaching you, showing you how to fuck in ways that you can’t even imagine,” he leans in, his lips hovering over mine, “it gets my dick harder than it’s ever fucking been for any woman.”

A shiver races down my spine, intensity radiating off him, a dark heat that wraps around me and pulls me under. He’s not asking for permission. He’s claiming me, piece by piece, with every word, every touch. And I’m overwhelmed with how deep it burns, how much I want him to consume me. It’s unnerving, and I have no idea what to do with all of it—all these feelings I’m having for a man who is everything I thought I never wanted.

Controlling. Possessive. Powerful.

And he’s a Del Rossa. A prince of the Dark Sovereign. A man who lives by no rules but his own.

Oh, God.

Panic sets in, his eyes still on me, unblinking, dark and assessing, and it’s too much. Too intense. So, I withdraw, a poor attempt at removing myself from a situation that’s already past the point of complicated.

“I need to take Luna for a walk.” I throw off the sheets and scramble out of bed, my feet hitting the floor.

His gaze is hot on me as I grab the nearest shirt—his shirt—and pull it over my head. It smells like him, and for some reason, that makes my hands shake more.

“Everly,” he drawls, a hint of warning laced beneath the calm, “you’re running.”

“I’m not running,” I lie, my back to him as I grab my pants and quickly slide them on. “I just—I need to take Luna out before she starts whining.”

Sensing the rising tension, Luna perks up from her spot near the bed. Her tail thumps once against the floor, then she stretches, letting out a small yawn.

“Everly, what’s happening right now?”

I disappear into the bathroom, yanking off his shirt and slipping on my own before walking back into the room. God, I can still feel him between my legs with every step—the pressure, the ache. It’s all there.

“Nothing’s happening. I’m taking Luna for a walk.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Isaia gets up, and—yep, there it is. His cock, hanging thick and heavy between those powerful thighs, looking as unapologetically impressive as the rest of him.

Of course, it is.

Because why wouldn’t it be? Everything about him screams dominance and control, and even his dick looks like it knows its place—front and center, commanding attention.

I shake my head lightly. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He pulls on his pants—thank God. “I’m coming with you.”

“Isaia, please.” I place my palm on my forehead, eyes closed. “I need to clear my head. I just…I need to breathe.”

He slants a brow. “And you can’t breathe when I’m around?”

“No. No, I can’t.”

“What?”

“It’s just, you’re this intense…I dunno—force. I can’t think straight when you’re near.”

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