A grin spreads quickly across my face.
Vito keeps his eyes straight ahead as he drives.The silence inside the car stretches, thick and razor-sharp, vibrating with every unspoken thing between us.
I glance down at her thighs again.Fucking hell.My cock’s already hard and I know I will be fucking her as soon as we get out of this car.
She catches me looking and raises one perfect brow, with smugness written all over her face.“You done eye-fucking me, yet?”
“Don’t worry,” I smirk.“I’m just planning the night in my head.”
She scoffs.“Dream on.”
She shifts slightly in her seat.
It’s just enough for that split in the black dress to open wider, revealing a strip of red lace underwear—barely there, yet enough to kill a man.
She gently pulls the fabric back down with a delicate tug of her fingers, pretending she didn’t do it on purpose.
My grip tightens around my knee, fighting the urge to grab her and toss her across my lap.To growl into her ear how many different ways I’m going to make her pay for that.
The control it takes in me not to growl is inhuman.I fight the urge to tell Vito to pull over and tell him to get out, so I can drag her onto my lap and make this marriage real in the filthiest way possible.
I laugh softly under my breath and turn back to the window, because if I don’t, I’ll rip that damn dress off her with my teeth.
But every nerve in my body stays focused on her.
Waiting.
Wanting.
She has no fucking idea what she’s started.Or maybe she does.And that’s what makes her even more dangerous.
We pull into the long gated driveway of the De Luca estate.
Black iron fencing encloses the property, resembling ribs, bones, and teeth, flanked by men in tailored suits with heavy weapons tucked beneath their jackets.One nods once before entering a code into the keypad.The gate groans open.
Stone lions sit on either side of the driveway as if guarding secrets buried within the marble.The house ahead is a fortress—three stories of cold stone and wealth.Floodlights illuminate the perimeter.More guards stand beneath the pillars, straight-backed, guns in view.
Isabella gazes at it, her face unreadable.
“Home sweet home,” I murmur.
“I’ve seen prisons with more warmth.”
I grin.“If you’re lucky, I’ll put you in one of the warmer cells so we can fuck.”
Her eyes flick to me—sharp and icy.“If you’re lucky, I won’t stab you before you sit down for dinner.”
Her lips twitch, and for a second, I think she’s going to smile.Instead, she licks them slowly, tormenting me, and then turns back to the window.
My cock pulses with an ache.
I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a whisper that brushes against her ear.“Careful, wife.Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll fuck you on the dining room table.Right between the canapés and the tiramisu.”
She doesn’t flinch.“Please, you’ll be too busy choking on your ego.”
My teeth flash.“My ego’s not what you’ll be choking on.”
The car stops.Vito opens the door, head bowed, eyes averted.