Page 58 of His to Destroy

He reaches up and gently wipes one away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, his voice soft and full of genuine remorse. “I’m so fucking sorry, Almeria.”

I don’t know how it happens. I don’t know why his apology touches me the way it does right now.

I don’t remember leaning in.

But suddenly, my mouth is on his.

The kiss starts soft.

But it builds quickly.

His hands grip my waist, anchoring me against him. Mine slide into his hair, tugging gently, feeling the silky strands between my fingers. His mouth devours mine like he’s starved for it, each brush of his lips sending a fresh surge of heat pooling low in my belly.

He pulls me into his lap, and I straddle him on the couch, my knees bracketing his thighs, our bodies pressed tightly together. I can feel every hard, unyielding line of him through my thin shorts.

I grind against him without meaning to, a low moan escaping my throat. Need slams into me like a tidal wave.

“I shouldn’t want you this much,” I whisper against his mouth, my breathing ragged.

“Then we’re both guilty,” he growls, before kissing me again, deeper this time—messy and hot, like he’s past caring about control.

His hands slide under my shirt, palms gliding over the naked skin of my back, making me shiver against him. I arch into the contact, craving more, craving him.

I moan again when his lips leave mine to trail down my jaw, nipping at the delicate skin of my neck, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“You feel like fire,” he murmurs against my throat. “Every time I touch you, I lose myself.”

He finds the sensitive spot just beneath my ear and sucks lightly, making my hips jerk against his instinctively.

“Gaspare,” I gasp.

He growls low in his throat and grabs my hips, pinning me to him, grinding up against my core with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that makes me whimper.

But then he stills.

His forehead presses to my shoulder, his breath coming in short, heavy pants.

“I need to slow down,” he mutters, like he’s reminding himself as much as me. “I want to make you feel good, Almeria. I want to show you what you deserve.”

Before I can respond, his hands are back on the waistband of my shorts, slipping them lower, exposing more skin to the cool air and his burning touch.

“Is this okay?” he asks roughly, his hands pausing.

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice barely audible.

That’s all the permission he needs.

Slowly, he slides his hand inside my panties, his fingers finding me soaked and throbbing.

He groans into my neck, his entire body shuddering as his fingers brush against my swollen clit.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so wet for me,” he rasps.

He circles the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, teasing, just enough pressure to make me whimper and dig my nails into his shoulders.

I grind into his hand shamelessly, chasing every spark he’s igniting.

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