Ruined Secrets (Perfectly Imperfect #4)

A deep rumble leaves his lips. When he grabs the hem of his T-shirt to remove it, I can’t help but sigh at the sight of his biceps bulging in the process. I get a hold of his sweatpants, but a second later end up on my back, with Luca holding the hem of my nightgown.

“Not the silk one!” I shout, but it’s too late. He’s already tearing the material. That’s the fourth one this week. “Damn it, Luca!”

While he’s removing his pants and boxer briefs, I take off my panties so they don’t meet the same fate as the nightgown. When I look up, I find Luca regarding me with hooded eyes.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him. “I want you to ride me, but don’t you dare come until I say you can.”

Wetness pools between my legs.

“Why?” I straddle him and press my palms on his chest, positioning myself above his fully erect cock.

His hands grab at my butt cheeks, squeezing. “Because I said so.”

I bite at my lower lip and lower myself, taking his thick length inside of me inch by inch. “And what if I can’t control myself?”

Luca tilts his head up and snags my chin, his eyes staring daggers at me. “You will.”

I smirk. There’s something unbelievably sexy about him ordering me around, especially when he wears those glasses. “If you say so, Mr. Rossi.”

The moment the words are out of my mouth, I feel his cock twitch. I lower myself until I’m fully seated in and rock my hips, already close to coming. Luca lifts his hand to my lips and pushes his thumb into my mouth. I suck on it in the same rhythm as I move my body while the pressure in my core builds.

I glide my palms up his hard chest and rock my hips, enjoying the way my walls stretch to accommodate his size. As I reach his hair, I sink my hands into his dark strands, making sure I don’t accidentally touch the wound on the back of his head. They removed his stitches last week, but I’m sure it still must be sensitive.

“Why are you so fixated on my hair?” he asks as he trails his hands down my back, the rough skin of his palms causing goose bumps with his every touch.

“I’m not,” I breathe out, then lean down to nip at his chin.

“You keep taking the elastic out every time you have the chance, Isabella.” His hands travel down to my ass. He lifts me and slams me back down onto his cock. “Why?”

“I like seeing your hair down, that’s all,” I say.

The truth is, it makes me feel special. Luca never wears his hair loose in public. Before his accident, I only saw him with his hair unbound a handful of times, and it always felt as if I got a glimpse of something forbidden. I’m so crazy in love with him that I get excited by something as inconsequential as the fact that he now almost always removes his hair tie when we’re alone.

I straighten and grind against him, enjoying the sight of him under me.

“Don’t you dare come.” Luca says through gritted teeth and squeezes my ass.

I smirk.

Suddenly, Luca grabs me around my waist and lifts me up until he’s holding me just an inch above his cock. I wrap my hands around his thick forearms and bury my nails in his skin, glaring at him. The devil just smiles.

“Frustrated looks good on you, Mrs. Rossi,” he says and lowers me a bit until the tip of his cock enters me. I try moving down so I can take all of him back inside me but fail. Leaning forward, I fix him with my gaze and move my right hand to his hard length. Then, I squeeze it. A deep rumble leaves Luca’s mouth and the next moment I find myself lying on my back, with his big body looming over mine. He gathers my wrists into his right hand and moves my arms above my head, keeping them locked there.

“Now, you can come,” he says and slams into me with such force that I scream and come instantly. He keeps pounding as I ride my orgasm until his seed spills inside me.

Chapter 16

“Camilla, Orlando’s wife,” Isabella whispers as we walk across the room at Massimo Lombardi’s eighteenth birthday celebration.

“She’s the one who’s addicted to sleeping pills?”

“Nope. That’s Lorenzo’s wife, Ludovica,” she says, then continues with the rest of Orlando’s family. “Next to Camilla are his daughters Constansa, the taller one, and Amalia. Don’t mention Damian in front of them.”

From the way Isabella is holding herself—pressed to my side, her arm tightly wrapped around mine, whispering in my ear with a smile on her face—people will probably presume we’re having a very private conversation. Her feet must be killing her in the heels she’s wearing. She purchased them yesterday, specifically for this occasion. The damn things are more than five inches tall, but she said it was necessary because of our height difference. Even with the added inches, I still need to bend my head to hear what she murmurs.

After a short talk with Orlando, we take drinks from a passing waiter and move toward the corner of the room. Several people approach us along the way, and thanks to the hours I’ve spent with Isabella going over photos and videos, I recognize most of them. For a few, I have trouble connecting the faces to names, so I discreetly squeeze Isabella’s waist and she jumps into theconversation, giving me hints. It’s astounding how she manages to make it look so natural. Unforced.

Lorenzo stands on the other side of the room with a red-haired woman and a few men I don’t recognize. They weren’t in the pictures Isabella showed me. The woman seems familiar, but it takes me a few moments to recall her. Lorenzo’s wife. She’s changed her hair. She was blonde in the photos. Lorenzo looks up and our gazes connect. I’ll have to speak with him later, or it may come across as suspicious. Lorenzo has been the biggest challenge so far since neither Isabella nor Damian could fill me in on all dealings I’ve had with him.