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“Does this mean you’ll stay?” he asks, hope echoing in his words.

“Yes,” I whisper with no hesitation as my lips brush against his. “I’m staying.”

Our lips collide, his hands sliding down my body, curving around my ass as he lifts me in the air, my legs wrapping around his torso.

“I need you,” I breathe, desperation in my voice. “Please…” So many emotions wash over me as I cling to him with all my strength, unwilling to let an inch of space grow between us. And as my heart thrashes against my rib cage, I know with everything inside me, there’s only one thing I need. “Make me yours.”

With ease, he spins on his heels and exits the greenhouse, striding to his house with an eagerness I feel in my bones.

Every step through the halls and up the stairs is a blur.

I don’t register where I am until he lays me on his bed, staring down at me with so much longing in his eyes.

The tips of his fingers move smoothly over my cheek, his hand curling around my neck, his thumb gliding over my pulse point. He rips the top buttons of his shirt and reaches for my hand, pressing my palm to the center of his chest.

“My heart beats only for you.”

His admission sends a flutter of desire through every part of me.

I grip his wrist and move his hand over my heart. “It’s yours,” I whisper. “Only yours.”

Disbelief crosses his eyes.

As if he doesn’t believe this is really happening.

To prove this is real, I lean up and press my lips to his.

Minutes pass as we explore each other’s mouths before his fingers curl into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material to my hips. His palm glides up the inside of my thigh, my legs parting in anticipation for what’s to come.

“So eager,” he breathes as his fingers reach the edge of my underwear. His index finger slides up and down my center over the damp material. Not wasting a second, he tugs them down my legs, tossing them to the side and then looks down at me.

He sits back on his heels and shakes his head, biting his knuckle as he stares between my legs.

“Your pussy was made for me, baby.” He drops his hand and licks his lips, his eyes coated with lust. “Already dripping wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please,” I whimper. “I need you.”

He leans over me, cupping my cheek. “I’ll never make you wait.” He looks down at my body, his hands sliding over the dress. “What are your feelings on me ripping you out of this dress?”

I nod adamantly. “Get me out of it.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His fingers grip the fabric at the top and pull it apart until it splits down the middle. I slide my arms out of it, and he tugs the fabric from beneath me, casting it aside. He stares down at me, his eyes softening with tenderness.

“I truly don’t deserve you, Fiorellina. But I’m going to make you mine anyway.”

He quickly slips out of his clothes, his eyes on me the whole time as I take in every part of him. Every defined muscle. Every scar. Every piece of ink. All of it.

Lowering himself over me, he finds my lips as his hand travels between my legs.

The second he makes contact, I arch back, feeling on the edge of shattering. He swirls his fingers over my entrance, my legs widening, pushing forward to seek him out.

Without warning, he plunges inside me. A moan escapes between my lips as he builds a steady rhythm, hitting deep within me. His palm makes contact with my clit, rubbing at the perfect consistency to build pleasure.

“You’re so close.” He presses a kiss to my neck. “I can feel your pussy squeezing me for more.”

The orgasm is nearly there.

Almost within reach.