Page 181 of Stalking Ginevra

She’s no longer my possession or even my obsession. She’s sacred, a goddess I will worship for the rest of my days.

“May I?” I reach for the hem of her shirt, my fingers brushing the ivory silk.

Her fingers slip over mine, giving wordless permission. I lift her shirt, unveiling inches of creamy skin until she sits before me in just her skirt and a lacy bra. Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, almost syncing with my heartbeat.

Maybe it’s because we’re back in our old treehouse, but being with Ginevra feels different. I take my time, letting my hands roam over her soft skin, cherishing her with the same reverence as when we were younger.

My lips brush her collarbone, her skin warm and delicate against my mouth. She shivers beneath my touch, and I savor the subtle signs of her pleasure.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in existence,” I murmur against her flesh.

She draws in a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Stop exaggerating.”

“You are,” I whisper, trailing kisses down to her chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath my lips. Reaching behind,I unhook her bra, letting it slip from her shoulders and fall away to reveal the soft curves of her breasts.

“These are the eight and ninth wonders of the world.”

She giggles. “Now, I know you’re full of shit.”

“Your breasts have featured in every fantasy since I was old enough to jerk off,” I say, pressing a kiss to her puckered nipple. “If you had a dollar for every time I stole glances at them, you’d have enough cash to buy your own casino.”

“Oh, Benito.” She arches into my mouth as I swirl my tongue around the stiffened peak. “It’s been so long since?—”

“Since someone made you feel wanted?” Pausing around my mouthful, I glance up at her flushed face, reveling in the way her lips have reddened.

She nods. “Yes.”

I smile against her skin, letting my lips travel lower to her stomach, savoring the warmth and the way her muscles twitch beneath my touch. “I’ll never stop wanting you. Not for a second.”

Each kiss is a whispered promise. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, pressing my lips just above her navel. “You’re safe. And you’re mine.”

She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, and I feel the faint tug, the quiet desperation in her touch.

“Benito…” Her voice wavers, and I know she needs more.

I shift down to the floor, kneeling between her legs. Slipping off her shoes, I reveal each delicate foot. My thumb traces her right arch, savoring the soft curve that leads up to her pedicured toes.

“You have the prettiest feet,” I murmur, bringing it to my lips. I kiss the big toe, then trail my mouth back down the arch and along her ankle, taking my time as she squirms beneath my touch.

My lips linger, worshiping her as she deserves. Then, I glance up, catching the flush blooming on her cheeks, and hold her gaze.

“Lift your hips,” I growl.

She does, allowing me to slide her skirt down her legs. The fabric falls away, exposing her pretty little auburn pussy. I can’t help but smirk at remembering how I didn’t supply her with panties.

Brushing one thumb over her inner thigh, I trace slow kisses up her leg. She shudders, her breath hitching with each touch, and I savor every tremor, every gasp.

“Every inch of you is beautiful,” I whisper, my lips grazing her soft sensitive skin.

She clutches my hair tighter, her hips arching toward my mouth, her breath hitching with anticipation. I trail my kisses higher, each press of my mouth a silent vow. She’s trembling, and it’s not just from pleasure—it’s from allowing herself to be vulnerable, to be seen.

Our gazes meet, sparking a powerful connection. I look down into eyes filled with fire. She’s no longer the broken woman who cried on my chest, she’s reclaiming what was taken.

“You’re my queen,” I say, my voice quickening with hunger. “Ask me and I’ll do whatever you command.”

Her gray eyes darken. “Then let me use you as my throne.”

EIGHTY-THREE

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