Page 45 of The Scandal Behind The Italian’s Wedding

She had not been prepared. For the intensity of this. For the invasion of this.

For his rampant masculinity in the way that it would utterly and completely demolish her softness.

Her femininity.

For the fact that it was like a conquering.

But one she had surrendered to. Willingly. Joyously.

His dark eyes met hers, his expression that of a fierce warrior. His mouth moved, as though he was about to speak, and she stretched up, capturing the words with her lips, swallowing them. Because she didn’t want to talk about anything right now. She didn’t want to inhabit reality.

All she wanted was this.

For him to inhabit her. For him to take her and remake her, so that she was new. And maybe, maybe parts of him would become new too. Maybe they could do that for each other. Maybe.

He growled against her mouth, but he didn’t try to speak to her again. Instead, he began to move.

Hard and fast, establishing a rhythm that left her breathless.

That carried them both up to the stars.

And when she shattered there up among the heavenly bodies, she finally felt like she belonged.

Like she was beautiful.

Beautiful in his arms. Beautiful for him.

Crying out her pleasure with no shame at all.

And when he tipped over the edge, a roar of pleasure coming from deep inside him, she held him. While he shook. While he poured himself out inside her.

She had never felt so female. She had never felt so powerful. Wrapped around this hard, muscular body that might have been carved out of rock were it not for the heat that radiated off him.

Were it not for the way he breathed. Hard and jagged as though something had been broken inside him.

When it was finished, he rolled away, and looked at her. His eyes were unreadable. Unfathomable.

And she couldn’t guess what he would say next.

But she also couldn’t contain the lie inside her anymore.

Whether he had guessed or not.

Based on the expression there, she had a feeling that he didn’t know what he might have guessed or not.

But she wouldn’t make him guess. She wouldn’t make him speculate. There was no place for that with them.

“I didn’t give birth to Isabella,” she said.

And by the way the mountain moved, she could tell that he hadn’t been close to guessing that at all.

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