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The possessive direction of her thoughts scared her.
Slumped over Gio with her hands clutching his shoulders, Ana had the insane urge to claw his lean back until her imprint was marked in blood.
What had come over her?
Tremors flecked along her skin, rippling in the aftermath of her climax. They hid the panic filtering back into her mind. Because she knew…she loved him. She had suspected it last night when the greed for his affection had intensified. When the thought of him being with her for duty’s sake alone had devastated her–despite already knowing that was why they had wed.
Her emotions had been in such turmoil throughout the night. She had tried to deny her feelings, desperate to remain practical and calm. But, even now, after all her tears had dried and her lust had been sated, they would not fade.
She loved him.
Gio was not a good man by conventional standards. He was unbendingly principled and ruthless with those who crossed him. He had killed many men, far more than the few she was privy to. But, to her, he was gentle and loyal…lending peace to her mind and fire to her body.
He was not just her Don, but her husband. A man she respected and desired. He had stayed by her side time and time again, even when she’d least expected it.
Memories rushed through her…of him chewing out Grandfather for insulting her…following her home to Pittsburgh, the city he’d loathed…holding her close after the nightmare.
Ana sighed dreamily, tucking her head into the curve of his neck as he cupped her ass.
When her hips began to protest her spread position, she reluctantly disengaged from him and began pulling down her dress. All while avoiding his gaze.
Gio, however, sensed her retreat and tilted her face up to his. His dark eyes searched her face closely. His lush hair was mussed, and his lips were swollen, making that coiling heat in her low belly inflame further.
How handsome he was.
How she loved him.
Chest tight, she held his stare, the words at her throat. But all she could whisper was, “I’m proud, too, you know…to have you as my husband.”
It felt so inadequate after all that he’d said to her. But Ana couldn’t manage to say anything more without emotion getting the best of her. As powerful as love was, fear was infinitely stronger. It corrupted every moment with a reminder of what she could lose.
If her aunt, the woman who raised her, could demean her the way she had in that text–would Gio do the same one day? Ana couldn’t imagine it, not with the way he was looking at her now. But hope was a poisonous illusion. She had hoped for so many years that her family would love her…but they never did.
So why would Gio? He had married her for duty, for her impeccable pedigree. Even if he was growing to care for her now, there was no guarantee of how he would feel in the future. Not once he uncovered her past, and she became a liability to his reputation.
So Ana remained in this limbo, in his blissful embrace, trying not to want anymore. But her heart was growing greedier by the day.
At the sudden ache in her arms, Ana glanced up, startled, and realized Gio was squeezing her powerfully after her declaration. His dark eyes were hooded, brimming with layers of emotion.
“Proud to have a Don as your husband?” he asked roughly.
She shook her head quietly. “To have you.”
The smile that lit his face then completely transformed him, broad and exhilarated. It made him look so boyish, so much more like the man she'd first met.
She wouldn’t have imagined a confident man like him fishing for compliments, but the sheer pleasure on his face made her glad she’d expressed herself. Even if it was a paltry version of the truth. Kissing him delicately, Ana touched his chest over his heart. Conveying what she could not say.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Gio murmured, his eyes soft. “You’re usually reserved with your praise.”
“I am?”
“Hm, at our first meeting, you barely gave me the time of day.”
“I–what?” she spluttered, jerking back.
Gio grinned wryly. “Hasn’t anyone told you that? How intimidating you can be when you're quiet. I thought…I still…" He let out a breath, his hands squeezing her. "Well, it just seemed like you had no interest in me.”
Her mind spun, confounded. Of course, others had mentioned it before–Miss Perfect, they’d called her. Because of her shyness and her poise and manners, she often appeared untouchable and regal. Disinterested.
