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I frown at the question, unsure how to answer it at first. “Yes,” I finally say.
“Then it’s yours too, isn’t it?” He stares at me like he wants a confirmation.
One of the guards comes to open my door, saving me from having to speak yet another lie. He extends his hand and assists me out of the SUV, which I’m grateful for since the wedding dress is difficult to manage in tight spaces.
Luca comes around and offers me his arm. But just as I’m about to take it, he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing.
“What are you doing?!” I demand, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Isn’t it tradition that the groom carries the bride over the threshold?” His face is so close to mine that his breath fans across my skin, so warm it burns.
He’s looking at me with an intensity that I’m used to from him. But I’m too overwhelmed by everything else happening. The charade, the wedding, the house. Him.
Luca carries me over the threshold and pauses slightly inside the grand foyer, as if he expects something’s going to happen. He glances around, peering into the darkened interiors of the rooms.
“What’s the matter?” I ask nervously.
“I sent everyone away. The house is supposed to be empty. I just want to make sure no one decided to crash for the night.”
“It wouldn’t matter if they did,” I say, hoping someonediddecide to pop in.
“It would matter to me.” He shifts his attention to me, and his lips pull to the side in a wicked grin I’m sure would make the Big Bad Wolf proud. “The walls are thin. I’d hate for anyone to hear what comes out of our bedroom tonight. They might think I’m hurting you.”
The front door closes with a loud thud, and I swallow down the sudden apprehension that’s starting to create a noose around my neck. “But you’re not going to hurt me, right?”
“Only if you want me to.” Without waiting for me to respond to that, he moves us up the stairs to the second floor.
To the right is what I assume is his suite. We enter a masculine room decorated in dark woods and deep greens. All of the furniture is reminiscent of the late nineteenth century, with intricate carvings and attention to detail.
On one wall is a massive marble fireplace, already lit, with two chairs flanking it. Opposite that is an equally impressive four-poster bed, the kind I’d expect Henry Tudor to have slept in, with velvet panels hanging from the canopy and gathered at all four corners.
I touch my throat when he sets me down, wondering if perhaps thatwasone of Henry’s beds and I’ll end up headless like one of his wives when Luca discovers the truth.
“It’s uncomfortable as fuck,” Luca says, nodding to the bed as he works to remove his tie. “But my mother liked that sort of shit. Had it imported from some castle in Scotland. It’s been retrofitted with a modern mattress, but it doesn’t make a difference.” He cups my cheek and turns my head to him. “You won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.”
“Oh?” I sigh as he comes nearer, his hand wrapping around my waist, his chest pressing against mine. “Why?”
“Because we’ll be too busy doing this.” He lowers his head and kisses me, soft and gentle at first.
I allow it. But then something inside me stirs, and I open my mouth as my hands slide up his neck. He groans into me while his fingers thrust into my hair and his hand digs into my back, holding me painfully against him.
The kiss goes from warm to a raging wildfire in a split second, and I no longer care about the bed, lies, or the possibility of losing my head over this. All I care about is doing whatever it takes to put the fire out before it consumes me.
My brain screams for me to stop, but my body drowns it out with demands of its own.
Touch me. Lick me. Make me burn.
Luca is my death sentence, yet in my lust-filled insanity, I fiercely cling to him. Wanting his taste in my mouth and his touch against my skin.
Every part of my body is affected by this kiss in ways I’ve never experienced before. I feel everything, my skin ultra-heated and sensitive to even the slightest graze against his. My nipples ache as they swell and strain within the bodice of the dress, and the need to be touched there too grows.
Something sweet and aching comes to life in my core and pools liquid and warm between my legs. I dig my hips into his, craving some sort of friction, anything that will relieve the mounting pressure.
It’s he who breaks the kiss, pushing me away so hard, I almost lose my balance. We’re both panting, staring into each other’s eyes. Several feet apart, but I can still feel him.
He grazes his lower lip with the pad of his thumb and looks at it. “You bit me.”
“What?” I glance at his lip, and sure enough, there’s a spot of crimson there. “Oh my God, Luca, I’m so sorry.”
