Page 180 of Stalking Ginevra

“We both knew you were too good for us. Too beautiful. Too vibrant. Too innocent. Samson tried to extinguish your spark, while I tried to hoard it. I wanted to keep you hidden away where no one else could enjoy your radiance.”

“Benito,” she says, her breath catching.

“It’s true. I was just as selfish as that bastard.”

“No,” she whispers.

“I’m not afraid to admit it. Nobody in this entire world is as beautiful, intelligent, or as pure as you. You deserve better. You always did, but I’m too greedy to set you free.”

She raises a hand to cup my face, her thumb caressing my stubbled cheek. Her touch is like a balm on the guilt festering in my soul.

I wanted to keep her at arm’s length because coming close to her would only bring back old obsessions, those soul-deep longings I’ve been trying to suppress. Ginevra is my addiction, and I never want to escape.

“But I don’t need to be set free, Benito. I love you too much.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

She shivers, not from fear, but from the icy barrier around my heart beginning to shatter.

I rest my forehead against hers, savoring her sweet, honeysuckle scent. “I used to see the world in black and white, but with you in my life, I finally see colors.”

With trembling fingers, she traces my jaw, then brings her mouth to mine in a delicate kiss.

“I love your beauty,” I whisper against her lips. “I love your compassion. I love your mind. I love your soul.”

She kisses me again, this time, her lips more certain, her hunger mingling with mine. But I don’t take control. I don’t rush. I let her savor every moment, every brush of skin against skin.

“Tell me what you need,” I whisper, cradling her closer. “Anything. Just tell me.”

“Make me feel wanted,” she says, her voice breaking.

I pull her closer, letting my lips do the talking. “I’ve never wanted anyone in this world, or anything more than you,” I murmur into the kiss. “I want you more than I want my own life.”

She melts into my chest, kissing back with equal fervor, her body now responding to mine in ways it never did before. I hold her tighter, promising through every touch that she’s loved, she’s cherished, she’s mine.

I should have eviscerated Samson instead of leaving him to Seraphine and Cesare. Or at least demanded that they keep him alive long enough for me to strike the killing blow.

But he’s dead. And rage won’t fix Ginevra’s trauma. All I can do is put her back together with my love.

She lifts her head, meeting my gaze with those vibrant gray eyes. The fragility in her expression cuts deep, and I’m forced to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Benito,” she says, her voice breathy. “We still haven’t bred today.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest. Guilt winds through my broken bones and wraps around my heart like a tourniquet. My breath hitches, and my mind flashes with a kaleidoscope of sins.

I didn’t just degrade Ginevra. I engineered everything that went wrong in her life to herd her back into my clutches. I dishonored her, used her as a toy, terrorized her until she became broken, desperate, fearing for her life. When that succeeded, I ambushed her with a sham wedding, followed by days of imprisonment and breeding.

Samson Capello only defiled her body. I desecrated her soul.

“No,” I whisper, my voice thick with regret. “There will be no more breeding.”

She rears back, her eyes widening, her pretty features clouding with confusion. “But?—”

“You deserve more than being fucked like a broodmare. I want to make love to you.”

Shivering, she lowers her lashes. When I kiss her temple, she relaxes her shoulders and exhales a soft sigh.

Everything about her is exquisite, from the flutter of her lashes to the faint blush on her cheeks. I can picture her naked in almost every position, but today is different.

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