Page 67 of Luciano

My thighs pressed together as heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading like fire through my veins.

Is it possible to cum just from looking at someone?

I was so horny. I was tripping.

It wasn’t just the way he looked—it was what hewas.

Power in its purest form. A man who could kill without blinking, but who also bandaged my wrists like I was made of porcelain.

That contradiction was the turn-on.

I said slowly, “Can I ask you something else, Luciano?”

He turned, one brow arched. “You can ask anything.”

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

He blinked once. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Why not?”

“I married you under duress.”

“Understandable.”

“Why else? I can see in your eyes there’s something else. The blank stare is gone.”

He frowned—and that was as rare as a smile.

Silence stretched a beat too long before he exhaled.

“I’m a virgin,” he said.

I stared. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me.”

“No way. What was all that about days ago? ‘I’ll have you beneath me,’ and all that. How are you threatening me with pleasure when you’ve never had sex?”

He cocked his head.

“I don’t need experience to understand what I want. Or what I’m capable of.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping slightly.

“I read. I observe. I listen. You don’t think I’d study how to touch the woman I want?”

He let a beat passed.

“I’ve imagined it. With you. Every detail. Every breath. So no—I haven’t done it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be good at it.”

His fingers brushed the side of my face—barely a touch—but it tightened my nipples and caused my pussy to leak.

The pad of his thumb traced the curve of my jaw, the shell of my ear, down my neck. His hand wrapped around my throat—he applied just enough pressure to make my pulse stutter.

A tiny whimper slipped out of my mouth and my pussy walls clenched.

Then his hand was gone. A single finger dragged slowly down the center of my chest, before splaying his hand over my heart.

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