Page 35 of The Hidden Heir

“You should be kinder to yourself, Valentina,” he says.

I cave in, tears filling my eyes as every intrusive thought I’ve ever fought against comes back to drown me. “Why? I deserve this. It was my reckless decision that got me into this. I stupidly thought Stefano actually wanted me. Me. The fat girl. The Mancuso reject. The pretty one who’d look perfect if only she lost a few pounds. I’ve heard it my entire life, and when Stefano came along, I really believed I was the one for him. Until he… he…”

“Until he what?” Luca asks, suddenly still.

His gaze darkens. Desire and anger swirl in his eyes. I can see grief there, too. And I want to hurt him, maybe just a little bit, maybe enough to make him pull back and stop this before it’s too late, because my core is burning up. Desire will destroy me if he doesn’t stop this.

“Until he told me,” I say, “the truth.”

“What did he tell you, Valentina?”

“That I was too fat to become his wife. That being Mancuso’s stepdaughter and the only one able to bear children in that family was the only reason he came to me in the first place. He hoped he’d put a baby in me so it would piss my stepfather off. That I’d never be more than that to him. And then he left.”

Luca takes a deep breath.

For what feels like an eternity, he doesn’t say anything. I expect him to blow up, to curse at me, to call me a liar. But none of that happens. Instead, his gaze softens as he measures me from head to toe—taking his sweet time to admire, to smile gently, to let his fingers record every inch of my body.

“I can’t erase what Stefano did,” he whispers. “But I can tell you something with unshakeable certainty.”

“What?”

His eyes find mine. Time stands still, and I lose my breath.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Your curves, your fullness, they do this to me,” he says, then takes my hands and turns it, so my palm fits precisely over his massive, throbbing erection. I can feel it through the layers of fabric. The desire. The pulsating longing of this man. “Your grace, your kindness, your softness, they all crown what is already there, which is pure beauty, Valentina. My brother was a fucking idiot. I like to believe I’m not, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken you as my wife.”

“Oh, please,” I mumble, though I can’t peel my hand off his ginormous bulge. “It’s merely a strategy to keep my stepfather miserable and at bay.”

“In part, yes. But it’s not the whole reason.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Does this feel like a lie to you?”

I’m forced to face the truth, the hard truth—literally. Luca slowly takes off his jacket and vest, his eyes never leaving mine. I shake my head slowly. He unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the floor. A pile of clothing gathers around us as Luca prolongs my agony.

He inches closer and closer. My lips tingle.

Demanding him.

All of him.

“Do you want it all to be a lie, Valentina?” he asks.

“No…”

“Then let it go. Do what you’ve wanted to do from the moment we met,” Luca replies. “It’s written all over your face. I hear it on your ragged breath. I see it in the vein pulsing on the side of your neck.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” I gasp and throw my arms around his neck.

The most wonderful disaster unfolds from the moment our lips meet and our bodies crash together. All bets are off, and I forget who I am and what brought me here in the first place.

Luca welcomes me with ravaging hunger, our tongues clashing.

Our hands roam freely, shamelessly, as if we’ve spent eons keeping apart from each other. His fingers reach and press, digging into my flesh as they memorize every line, every curve, every stretch mark.

“You’re burning up,” he whispers, unhooking my bra.

A moment later, I arch my back as he leans in. He grabs my breast and closes his lips around my nipple, licking and suckling with feverish madness, while I listen to his moans of raw pleasure. He applies the same merciless treatment to my other breast, while I hold onto his strong, muscular arms.