Page 165 of A Beautiful Crime
Positioning me he places my legs on either side of his hips. I can feel him against me. And I shouldn’t be surprised at how hard he’s becoming. His stamina is impressive. I would dare say inhuman.
“If I were a poet I would write sonnets about you. Lay them next to your pillow with rose petals kissing your skin. And if I were a traditional romantic I would buy you a box of chocolates with a bouquet of fresh flowers.” I hang on to his every word. It’s as if he’s cast a spell upon me. “But I’m not. I could offer you all of those things but we both know they wouldn’t satisfy you. It’s not what you truly desire.”
“And what do I desire?”
Collaring my throat he tells me, “Not a white knight or saint, but a devil who will lay your enemies upon your feet and watch you seek retribution by taking a pound of their flesh.”
“Mi cuore,” his eyes roll with pleasure to the back of his head, “you know me frighteningly well.”
His hands rove over my body sensually. Warmth pools in my lower abdomen as my blood spikes. “And yet every morning I wake with a hunger to desperately know more of you.”
“Hmm,” I hum appreciatively as his hands return back to my hips. His fingers biting into my flesh. My own twirl in the ends of his wet locks. “Sounds like you want to possess me.”
His eyes become the softest I have ever seen them. Carrying a vulnerability and honesty that appears almost angelic in how pure his emotions are. “You’ve been my obsession for ten years, Carina. You are the one who has possessed me.”
CHAPTER 36
Carina
As a young girl I had never dreamed of a wedding. The white dress. The chapel. The groom.
Mamma’s fear of papa, no, Savio, had subconsciously rooted in me an abhorrence to the idea of tying myself to another.
How many nights had I witnessed her crying in her hands before she saw me coming around the corner? Throwing on a smile that didn’t quite fit but wore one nonetheless to be brave for her daughter.
How many times had I seen her confide in Father Frank for her only to have hope that lasted until Savio belittled her once again?
And she would escape. Inside her mind she would escape. Those hauntingly distant stares were the only time she had found the life she had wanted. A husband who adored her. Sons who had loved her. And a daughter she could love without fear.
Marriage was something I had never wanted. And when I underwent my rebirth, marriage was seen as a prison. A life sentence. One cage being traded for another.
But as I stare at the collection of wedding dresses before me I can’t help the thrill that tingles up and down my spine. The buzz of anticipation thrums in my veins.
Marriage to Constantine Donati isn’t a life sentence; it’s freedom.
Arms encase me from behind, pulling me flush to a broad chest. I rest my hands atop of his forearms. He holds me tenderly, and I melt against him as I close my eyes and inhale the scent that is uniquely his. It should be criminal how even his scent is seductive. But everything about the devil is, isn’t it? Irresistible temptation. I never stood a chance at resisting.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“In our bedroom?” He asks bemused. “And here I thought this is where you preferred me the most.” His lips move against the shell of my ear. An involuntary shiver races down my spine. I can feel his smirk at the reaction. “Particularly the bed but you were also quite enthusiastic in the shower. Even more so against the wall.”
Heat pools and stirs my blood. He truly has created a sex fiend. There’s no satisfying the hunger I have for him. I find with each passing day I crave him more.
“You’re being naughty,” I warn him but my tone is nothing but a tease.
He nips my earlobe before placing a gentle kiss. The mixture of pain and pleasure has my knees becoming weak. “Ah, amore mia , allow me to show you how naughty I am with my tongue.”
I feel my panties dampen as I recall just how well mastered he is with his tongue.
Before I fall so pathetically and easily at his whim I detach myself. He makes a sound of protest as I release myself from his hold. I then turn and hold my hand in the air for him to make no move forward. And he pouts.
Constantine Donati, the most feared Don in the underworld pouts.
“I will not be distracted. Our wedding is in two days and I have yet to pick a dress. And who is to say if any of these dresses will fit.”
“Carina, do you think so little of me?” He feigns being wounded and I raise a brow. “Each dress has already been tailored to your measurements.”
“How is that possible?”
