Page 44 of His Nephew's Ex
“That was different—”
“Was it?” My hands frame her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Because what I remember is you pulling me into your bed. You kissing me like you were starving for my touch. You crying my name when I made you come apart in my arms.”
Heat floods her cheeks at the explicit reminder, but her eyes don’t look away. “That was just sex.”
“Just sex doesn’t create this kind of bond,stellina. Just sex doesn’t leave you thinking about someone constantly. Just sexdoesn’t make you willing to risk everything for a few hours in someone’s arms.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking—”
“I know you haven’t been with anyone else since that night.” The words come out harder than intended, edged with possessive satisfaction. “I know you’ve been as obsessed with me as I am with you, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
“How could I be with anyone else? I’ve been living in your house under armed guard.”
“That’s not why.” I press closer, until every inch of my body is aligned with hers, until she can feel exactly how much her proximity affects me. My hardest parts press against her softest. “You haven’t been with anyone else because your body knows who it belongs to now.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
“No? Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your pupils dilated? Why are you looking at my mouth like you’re remembering exactly how it tastes?”
I am remembering, and the knowledge makes my cock harden with need I’ve been denying for too long. She’s been sleeping in my bed for over a week, her body pressed against mine every night, and I’ve been the perfect gentleman because I gave her my word.
But everything’s different now.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” I challenge, my voice dropping to that whisper that makes her toes curl. “Tell me you don’t think about that night, about how good we were together. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you right now.”
“I—” She starts to protest, but the words die when I brush my thumb across her lower lip.
“Tell me,” I repeat, moving my hands to her waist, feeling the soft silk of her dress beneath my palms. “Tell me you don’t want me to put my hands on you. Tell me you don’t want me to remind you exactly why your body chose mine.”
“Simeone,” she breathes, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a curse rolled into one.
“I can feel your heart racing,” I murmur as I slide one hand up to rest against her ribs. “I can see the way your breathing has changed. Your body knows the truth even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet.”
“What truth?” The question comes out barely audible.
“That you’re mine. That you’ve been mine since the moment you walked into my office asking for protection. That carrying my child just makes it official.” My hand moves back to her stomach, protective and possessive. “That we’re getting married.”
The words hang in the air between us like a verdict, final and absolute. Loriana’s eyes widen with shock, then narrow with familiar defiance.
“We’re what?”
“Getting married. As soon as it can be arranged.” I say it like it’s already decided, because it is. “My child deserves legitimacy, and you deserve my name and everything that comes with it.”
“I don’t want your name,” she protests, but there’s less heat in it than I expected.
“You’ll take it anyway. Because it’s the right thing to do, because it protects our child, because it makes you untouchable to anyone who might threaten you.” I lean closer, until my breath ghosts across her lips. “And because deep down, you want to belong to me as much as I want to possess you.”
“You can’t just decide we’re getting married—”
“I can, and I have.” My voice hardens with authority that’s moved mountains and toppled governments. “You’re carrying my heir,stellina. That makes this a matter of family honor. Of legacy. Of ensuring the Codella bloodline continues.”
“So this is about bloodlines and legacy?” There’s hurt in her voice that makes something twist in my chest. “Not about love or choice or what we actually want?”
“This is about everything.” I capture her lips in a kiss that’s meant to prove a point but becomes something else entirely—desperate, hungry, full of all the emotions I can’t quite name.
We separate like survivors breaking the surface of deep water, lungs burning, hearts hammering. The want in her eyes cuts through every rational argument we’ve constructed between us.
“You can’t force me to marry you,” she whispers, but her hands are fisted in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
