Page 74 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

When we reach his door and step inside, I have to blink, taking in the sheer elegance of it all.

The furniture is sleek, modern, but not cold, deep leather, warm lighting, and touches of something undeniably him everywhere. A single glass tumbler sits abandoned on the marble counter, his jacket draped carelessly over the back of a chair. It’s effortless.

But there’s a feeling I didn’t notice the first time. It’s warm and intimate in a way I hadn’t expected.

Photos line the walls, pictures from his childhood, of his mother, his father, his siblings. Old pets, past vacations.

For the first time, I realize it’s more than just his apartment.

It’s a home.

A home that, despite its grandeur, feels lived-in. Loved.

What would it be like… to belong in a place like this?

Valentino doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he pulls me further inside, turning to face me once we reach the center of the room. His gaze is steady, unreadable, but his thumb brushes over my knuckles, soft, lingering, enough to make my breath catch.

I should say something. Tease him about living like a man who knows exactly how good he has it. But I don’t. I can’t.

Because in this moment, with his hand in mine, everything feels right.

For the first time, I stop questioning where this is going. I stop second-guessing if we’re making a mistake.

Valentino’s eyes darken as he looks at me, his grip on my hand tightening just slightly before he lifts it to his lips. His kiss is soft against my skin, lingering for a breath too long, sending a slow, searing heat through my veins.

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" His voice is low, rough, like he’s holding something back.

My pulse flutters, my chest rising and falling with the weight of everything unsaid between us.

"Valentino..." I whisper, but I don’t even know what I’m asking for.

He steps closer, his free hand reaching up, his fingers grazing along my jaw before cradling my face. His touch is firm but reverent, as if he’s memorizing the feel of me, as if I’m something precious.

His thumb sweeps over my cheek, his breath warm as he tilts his head down, his lips hovering just above mine.

His forehead presses against mine. "You mean more to me than I ever thought possible. And it terrifies me."

The rawness in his voice, the vulnerability, it steals the air from my lungs.

I don’t hesitate. I lift onto my toes, closing the space between us.

The moment our lips meet, the world shifts.

His kiss is slow at first, like he’s savoring the taste of me, like he wants to take his time unraveling me. But then his fingers tighten in my hair, angling my face, and the restraint in him snaps.

A deep, wanting sound rumbles from his chest as he claims my mouth with more urgency, more hunger. His lips are warm, demanding, molding perfectly to mine as if they were always meant to be here.

The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, heat pooling down to my core.

I press my hands to his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body beneath his shirt, the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

He’s solid, unyielding, but the way he’s touching me, the way he’s kissing me, is nothing but pure, desperate need.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my knees go weak. He must feel it because his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him, holding me there as if he never wants to let go.

His stiffening length presses against my belly.

I lose myself in him. In the taste of him, dark, intoxicating, something I know I’ll crave long after this moment ends.

---