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The scent of his musky cologne surrounded her as his hands moved to the buttons along her back. There were eleven of them, one too many. With rising hysteria, Ana counted each one as they came undone, until his lips pressed hotly against the curve of her neck, sending her thoughts scattering away.
Her petticoat fell to the floor.
Only her panties were left now.
She was nearly naked in front of him…completely at his mercy.
A haze coated her eyes as ghostly hands closed around her throat, and she froze. Gasps started to come in short bursts, and everything around her faded.
She could do this. She could.
Could she?
They had spoken in person four months ago. They were practically strangers. Ana could count on one hand every single one of their encounters. Even now, she remembered him staring at her in the corner when they’d first met, his lips amused as she’d tried to make small talk with him. Gio had been so much more relaxed and at ease then. But life had torn them apart in so many different directions since then. She was no longer as open and naïve; he was no longer as patient and forgiving.
“My parents will ask for you.”
“Ask for me…?”
“To enter a betrothal with me.”
“What?” Her shock was obvious.
“You come from a respectable family,” he said gruffly. “Your pedigree and manner will make you suitable. Perfect. It will be an honor to have you.”
Perfect.
Honor.
Duty.
That’s what this was about. That’s all it ever could be.
Until his touch began warming her, rubbing in slow circles around her stomach, Ana didn’t realize that she had faded into the past. To a time when she had started to feel just a bit more comfortable with their budding relationship. More comfortable with him.
Before tragedy had struck them both.
The memory of a shyer and more diffident Gio, along with the coaxing touch of his present self, slowly unwound the tension in her. She started to melt back into him unconsciously.
His breath was hot against her ear as he stood tall behind her, his one hand continuing to rub soothingly, hypnotically, on her naked skin just above her panties.
She felt like a helpless prey in his grasp, scared…but curious.
They stood like that for a long time until she shivered and slumped fully against him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she emitted a soft sound of distress.
"Shh, let me take care of you," he said roughly. An assurance, a command. "I told you, didn't I?… I won't let you go."
Her thighs rubbed restlessly together at his vow, and she heard Gio groan low before he slid a hand down her bare stomach. It drew in shyly at his touch. His hand trailed lower and lower until he cupped her there–oh, God–right at the core of her, sending her spiraling into burning heat.
A high keening sound spilled out of her.
“Fuck.”
Gio restrained her hips, and she realized in dazed mortification that she had been unconsciously grinding back against the rising bulge in his pants.
But she couldn’t stop.
The heat was eating her alive. He had done something to her. Spinning her around, Gio glared at her as if it were her fault. But it was his. He had coaxed her into his trap.
