A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,31

that night any more than you could have.”

“That’s good to know,” she said, heat rushing through her, settling over her skin. It made her dress, so lovely and formfitting a few moments ago, feel tight. Far too tight.

“I don’t understand what it is you do to me.”

“I thought … I was certain that I must not be so different from all your other women.”

“There weren’t that many,” he said. “And you are different.”

It was a balm to her soul that he felt that way. That she truly hadn’t been simply one in a lineup. It was easy for her, she realized, to minimize the experience on his end. It had been easy for her to justify being with him, not being honest with him, giving him a one-night stand, because she’d assumed he’d had them before. It had been easy to believe she was the only one who’d stood to be hurt or affected, because she was the virgin.

That had been unfair. And she could see now, looking into his eyes, that it wasn’t true, either.

“Kiss me,” he said, all of the civility gone now.

She complied, closing the short distance between them, kissing him, really kissing him, for the first time in three months. Their wedding kiss had been nothing. A pale shadow of the passion they’d shared before. A mockery of the desire that was like a living beast inside of them both.

She parted her lips for him, sucked his tongue deep inside of her mouth, not caring that it would be obvious to the people around them. Matteo was hers now, her husband. She wouldn’t hide it, not from anyone. Wouldn’t hide her desire.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his body. “Careful, Alessia, or I will not be responsible for what happens.”

“I don’t want you to be responsible,” she said, kissing his neck. Biting him lightly. There was something happening to her, something that had happened once before. A total loss of control. At the hands of Matteo Corretti.

It was like she was possessed, possessed by the desire to have him, to take him, make him hers. Make him understand what she felt. Make herself understand what she felt.

“We can’t do this here,” he said.

“This sounds familiar.”

“It does,” he said. He shifted, pulled her away from his body, twining his fingers with hers. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere,” he said.

He led her out of the ballroom, ignoring everyone who tried to talk to them. A photographer followed them and Matteo cursed, leading them a different way, down a corridor and to the elevators.

He pushed the up button and they both waited. It only took a moment for the elevator doors to slide open, and the moment they did, she was being tugged inside, tugged up against the hard wall of his chest and kissed so hard, so deep, she was afraid she would drown in it.

She heard the doors slide closed behind them, was dimly aware of the elevator starting to move. Matteo shifted their positions, put her back up against the wall, his lips hungry on hers.

“I need you,” he said, his voice shaking.

“I need you,” she said.

Her entire body had gone liquid with desire, her need for him overshadowing everything. Common sense, self-protection, everything. There was no time for thought. This was Matteo. The man she wanted with everything she had in her, the man who haunted her dreams. This was her white knight, but he was different than she’d imagined.

There was a darkness to him. An edge she’d never been able to imagine. And she found she liked it. Found she wanted a taste of it. She didn’t know what that said about her, didn’t know what it meant, but at the moment, she didn’t care, either.

“This is a beautiful dress,” he said, tracing the deep V of the neckline with his fingertip, skimming silk and skin with the movement. Her breath hitched, her entire body on edge, waiting for what he would do next. Needing it more than she needed air. “But it is not as beautiful as you. And right now, I need to see you.”

He reached around, tugging on the zipper, jerking it down.

“Careful,” she said, choking on the word. “You’ll snag the fabric.”

“I’ll tear it if I have to,” he said.

The top fell around her waist, revealing her breasts, covered only by a whisper-thin bra that showed the outline of her nipples beneath the insubstantial fabric.

He lifted his hand and cupped her, slid his thumb over the tightened bud.