He parted my hair, drew it forward over my shoulders, and spread a hand against my bare upper back. “Not until this moment have I allowed myself to want you.”
I swallowed dryly. Something new had entered his voice. Longing. Desperation. As if he’d been in need of something I was now offering. I waited for him to push me down, bend me over a pew, and conquer.
“How was he with you?” Cristiano asked quietly. “Did my brother destroy you, or did he leave me the pleasure of that task?”
“Diego was . . .” Words to describe the man I loved, once at the tip of my tongue, didn’t come as easily now. He had betrayed me, but how thoroughly? If he’d been willing to trade me, was there a chance he’d also taken my virginity knowing what was in store for me? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Only a monster would do that, and the de la Rosa family already had enough of those. I’d known Diego practically my whole life, and I’d know if he was that evil. “He was sweet and caring,” I continued. Even if doubt entered my memory of that night, I couldn’t let Cristiano see that. Weakness was one thing I could no longer afford to show around him. “At least I will know that kindness once in my lifetime, and I will cling to that memory every time I’m with you.”
Cristiano chuckled deeply and lowered his mouth to my ear. “I look forward to watching you try. Your lips will know one word when I’m inside you—my name—and you’ll feel only one thing—the pleasure I’m giving you.”
I shut my eyes as the inevitable closed in. “Please make this quick.”
“Never.” Starting at my shoulder blade, he slid a finger up under my bra strap. “Quick is not the way to fuck a woman like you, at least not until after I’ve thoroughly explored you.”
I drew a small breath at his bluntness. What kind of torture would it be to have such controlled, dangerous man explore me with his full attention? Sweet or cruel? A mix of both, I guessed. That wasn’t the terrifying part, though. By the tone of his voice, he intended for me to enjoy my undoing.
He pressed his hands to my shoulders. “Stay here,” he said before walking away.
I stared down the aisle toward the discarded pillows where we’d kneeled, which were backdropped by paneled, stained-glass saints. Our Lady of Guadalupe silently stared at me. I’d never given her my bouquet in exchange for her blessing of our union, but then, we didn’t deserve it.
Some of the candles had gone out, likely with the way everyone had rushed out of the building with Cristiano’s command to leave. Was Diego envisioning Cristiano shredding my clothing at this moment? The merciless way he’d use me? The fervor with which Cristiano had promised to take me after our first kiss as man and wife?
I hoped he was, and that each and every one of Diego’s thoughts tortured him.
Any suffering he endured would never match my own.
This was his fault.
Cristiano’s footsteps returned, and with barely a touch at my back, my bra popped open. He slid it off, dropping it on the ground. We were starting. My heart beat in my stomach as I anticipated his callused palms on my skin.
“Is quick really what you want? For me to tear through you hard and fast?” His voice deepened with unmistakable lust. “Or would you prefer I draw it out? Make you enjoy it? Crave it? What would be worse?”
I shuddered despite the warmth of the church. To enjoy it would be a betrayal to myself—a crime I had a feeling I’d commit. Already, my nipples stuck straight out, tingling in anticipation of his hands. Every time he touched me, my body responded—from our dance at the costume ball to his wandering fingers as he’d bandaged up my feet after the warehouse fire. But no matter the draw that existed between us, I would never admit to craving it. I’d sure as hell never ask for it.
What would be worse? Pain, resistance, and hatred were all things I could understand in a moment like this.
But to be pleasured by the devil and enjoy it? That felt like the highest sin.
“Get it over with,” I said.
“I only ask out of curiosity,” he said, pressing his hand to my back and guiding me forward. “It won’t change the course of things. Now, my little butterfly, brace yourself on the pew.”
I inhaled deeply, bent forward, and gripped the lip with both hands, offering my backside to him.
“What a sight,” he said. “My imagination is getting the better of me. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll sodomize you this way sometime.”
Reflexively, I clenched my cheeks. I’d be naïve to think he had any limits, but my mind hadn’t yet wandered to the sordid details. He made it sound as filthy as possible, so different than I’d ever heard. Almost as if he hoped to incite a flame in me.