Ruined Secrets (Perfectly Imperfect #4)

“All right.” He starts the car.

The thirty-minute drive passes in complete silence. When we arrive, Luca parks in the driveway, and comes around to open my door. He still doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s better this way. Tonight has been exhausting, and I’m not in the mood to fight with him. And on top of it, my feet have been killing me for hours. So, prior to getting out of the car, I take off my heels and hold them in my hand as I head toward the house. I take maybe three steps before Luca scoops me into his arms and carries me toward the front door.

He doesn’t put me down when we get inside, as I expected, but proceeds to climb the two flights of stairs. Inside our bedroom, he lowers me onto the bed, then turns around and disappears into the bathroom. A few seconds later I hear the shower turn on.

Instead of waiting for him to finish, I hurry into my old room and take a quick shower there. When I leave the bathroom,I look at my old bed, then at the door between the rooms. I don’t want to sleep alone, but maybe it would be better to avoid more questions, so I shut the adjoining door. Turning down the covers, I get into my old bed and snuggle under the blanket.

I’ve just closed my eyes when a loud bang makes me spring up. I search for the source, and my eyes land on Luca standing in the doorway between the rooms. He’s completely naked, his hair is loose, and by the look on his face, he’s angry as hell. The door next to him is hanging askew by only one of its hinges.

“It wasn’t locked, damn it!” I snap.

He stalks over to the bed, grabs me just under my ribcage, and hauls me up. Then, he throws me over his shoulder.

“Really mature,” I mumble as he carries me to our bedroom. When we reach the bed, he deposits me onto it, then lies down over my body, holding himself on his elbows. Caging me in.

“You sleep in this bed,” he says through gritted teeth. “Nowhere else. Is that clear?”

“Even when we have a fight?”

“Even when we have a fight, Isabella.”

“Okay,” I say, brushing my fingers through his hair. It’s ridiculous how soft it is, I could spend the whole night just passing my hand through it.

“What did I do to make you cry?” he asks and bends his head. “It was the kiss, wasn’t it?”

“Luca . . .”

“Did you feel uncomfortable because people saw us kissing?”

I gape at him. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m so much older than you, and you find it awkward to kiss me in public. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?!” I stare at him with wide eyes, wondering how the hell he came to that conclusion. “Of course, not!”

“Don’t lie to me, Isabella. I want the truth.”

He wants the truth? Fine. I take his face into my hands and look directly into his eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you for years. Years, Luca,” I say. “I lived for those short moments when you’d come for a meeting with my grandfather. I basically stalked you around the house, hiding behind furniture or bushes in the garden, just so I’d get to look at you.”

I squeeze his face, then continue.

“Before we got married, every night for two years, I fell asleep only after pleasuring myself and imagining you were next to me. I’ve never been with any other man except you because, even when you were off limits, I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else,” I say and kiss him. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Luca. And being kissed by you in front of the whole Family was my dream come true. I cried because I was happy.”

“So you don’t think I’m too old for you?” he asks, staring down at me.

“Luca, baby, I don’t give a damn how old you are. I’ve never wanted any other man in my whole life.”

Luca’s hand cups my jaw and he watches me through narrowed eyes for a few moments. Then, he slides his hand down and under my nightgown to cup my pussy. “No one’s had this except me?”

“I already told you, you were my first.” I tilt my head and kiss him again. “In fact, you’re the only man who has ever touched it.”

His body goes still above mine, and for a few seconds, it looks like he isn’t even breathing as his eyes bore into mine. And then he snaps. Grabbing the hem of my nightgown, he pulls at the silky fabric until a tearing sound follows. My panties meet the same fate soon after. If this continues, I’ll need to shop for new underwear every week. Or stop buying it all together.

He presses his right hand to my pussy and teases my clit while his left hand travels down my body, trailing from my neck, across my chest and stomach, until it’s between my legs, too. His eyes never leave mine while he slides his finger inside me, still massaging my clit with his other hand.

“Only mine,” he whispers and adds another finger, making me gasp.