Page 19 of Cayden

Turning away, he walked over to the window, broad shoulders hunched.

Easing out of the strappy sandals that were pinching her toes, she lowered herself into the chair next to the hearth and stretched her legs out. And waited. She could tell he was tormented.

That had always been a bane of contention between them – the feelings, and emotions. They had rushed into marriage after just a month of meeting each other. When she realized who he was, she had been horrified and had tried to end things, but he would not let her.

But by that time, it had been too late for her. She had fallen for him. She who had always been so sensible and pragmatic, had fallen for a man who looked like a movie star and was from one of the most powerful families in the world. They defined wine and were Italian royalty.

She was a simple schoolteacher – the only excitement had been this trip to Italy and one to the UK during a package outing that her school had sponsored. She lived with her dad, unwilling toleave him on his own after her mom died and the house was large enough so they could both have their space, if needed.

As she sat there, the warmth of the fire seeping into her bones, memories of their tumultuous relationship flooded her mind.

His relentless pursuit, their whirlwind romance, the passion that had ignited between them - it all seemed like a distant dream now. She had been so naive, so unprepared for the intensity of his love, and the complications that came with it.

He finally turned to face her, eyes going to her bare feet and the shoes dumped next to the chair. Memories swamped him. The first time they had spent together in his suite, how tidy she had been, picking up after herself even though he had reminded her that they had people who did that sort of thing.

“I am not used to having someone picking up after me,” she had protested.

Her disappointment when she could not use their kitchen to prepare meals for them. He had indulged her several times and had relished the absolute joy on her lovely face when she puttered around in the kitchen.

He could not stay mad at her. Just looking at her sitting there, with that sense of vulnerability about her was making him weak. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he laid it carefully over the arm of the sofa and walked towards her with deliberate slowness.

He was still mad, the anger raw inside him, but for now, he wanted her with an intensity that was bordering on insanity.

His steps echoed in the silence of the room, the tension palpable, almost tangible. As he approached, she looked up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and longing.

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air seemed to thrum with the unspoken words, the unresolved emotions that had built up over the years.

He knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her knees, and she felt the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric of her dress. "I can't keep doing this," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. "I can't keep pretending that I don't need you."

She reached out, her fingers brushing the stubble on his jaw, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "Then don’t.”

Green eyes sizzled and sent shivers up and down her spine. His touch burned through the flimsy fabric like paper. Her breath hitched and her heart started its irregular beating. He could always undo her with just a look and right now was no exception.

With a muttered oath, he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the room.

He carried her up the stairs, each step he took echoing in the quiet house, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a silvery glow over the room. He gently laid her on the bed, his eyes neverleaving hers, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one with a delicate yet urgent grace. As she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was at once tender and demanding.

It was as if all their pent-up emotions, the anger, the longing, the love, were poured into that kiss, binding them together in a way that words never could.

He broke away, his lips trailing down her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her. She arched into him, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. It was a dance they knew well, a dance of passion and desire, of love and need.

Each touch, each caress, was a reaffirmation of what they shared, what they had fought for, and what they had lost and found again.

The argument was far from being resolved, they both knew it, but for now, the passion consuming them was all that matters. And it had to be dealt with. Had to be appeased.

The beast inside him was raging to be let loose. As it had been since she stripped away the jacket and the dress was revealed.

Desire and fury had waged a way inside him, until he felt as if he was boiling from the residue. He yanked the material barely covering her breasts and made a sound deep inside his throat like a man dragging in his last breath.

He ripped the cloth in his haste to get more of her and felt his body quivering when she arched and offered the breast for him to feast on.

The sounds coming from her, animal passion, moans filling the room was enough to drive him insane!

His teeth grazed her skin, sending electric shocks through her, and she clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Theroom seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them, a whirl of sensations and emotions. Their connection was primal, raw, a testament to the depth of their bond.

---