Page 31 of His to Destroy

My breath hitches as his tongue brushes mine, teasing, coaxing. I shouldn’t enjoy this—I shouldn’t let him in—but God, the way he kisses… it’s reverent. Possessive. Deep.

Completely different from the kiss we shared on the altar during our wedding.

I kiss him back harder.

He groans into my mouth, and something inside me twists.

He walks us back until my spine meets the wall of bookshelves, my hands tangled in his shirt. The wood is cool behind me, but he’s hot—feverish. His mouth leaves mine only to trail fire down the column of my neck, slow and dragging, his breath warm against my skin.

“You taste like sin,” he murmurs against my collarbone.

I gasp, arching slightly as his lips find the hollow beneath my ear. He kisses there—soft, slow—and the world begins to unravel.

His hands are at my hips now, fingers curling through the fabric of my dress like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me. He doesn’t grope. Doesn’t rush. He touches me like he’s studying.

Learning.

Worshipping.

And God help me, I let him.

I pull his face back to mine and kiss him again—deeper, wetter, needier than before. My lips part around his tongue, and he drinks from me like I’m something holy. His hands slide up my sides, thumbs grazing the sides of my breasts. He doesn’t touch what he shouldn’t. But he’s close. So close.

And I want him there.

A moan slips from me before I can catch it.

His body goes rigid at the sound.

“Almeria…”

He says my name like a prayer and a plea.

His thigh presses between mine, and I move without thinking—friction sparking something molten deep in my belly. My hands move to his shoulders, my nails digging into him slightly. I can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves.

His mouth is back on mine, urgent now. Hungrier. His hands settle firmly on my waist, grounding me. Our hips nearly meet, the tension a heartbeat away from combustion.

And just then—

I remember.

Luca. This house. This arrangement. Everything we are. Everything we’re not.

“Stop,” I whisper, breathless.

His lips freeze against my jaw. Slowly, he pulls away. His chest heaves like mine.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” I cut in gently, touching his chest. “This wasn’t just you. I wanted it too. This wasn’t a mistake.”

He studies me. His hands stay where they are, not pulling me closer, not letting go.

“But I can’t let this happen again,” I say softly. “Not until I know it’s real.”

He nods, jaw tight, forehead resting briefly against mine.

“I’ll wait,” he says. “For as long as it takes.”

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