CHRISTIAN
Italy was a strange dichotomy of calm and chaos. I spent my days visiting local landmarks and shopping with Stella and my nights monitoring the situation in D.C. after she fell asleep.
I’d called in a favor and asked Alex to keep an eye on things for me while I was gone. He didn’t have any unusual updates for me, but I remained on edge. My gut told me something was brewing on the horizon and that I damn well wouldn’t like what it was.
Until I had a clearer picture of what I was up against, however, there was nothing I could do.
I pushed thoughts of D.C. out of my mind as Stella and I walked down a winding street in Positano. It was nearing sunset, and pastels painted the sky in a soft palette of pinks, purples, and oranges.
We were in week three of our Italy trip, and we’d left the cities behind for the seaside charm of the Amalfi Coast. We’d wound our way through Salerno and Ravello and arrived in Positano yesterday. Next was Sorrento, followed by our last stop in Capri.
A smile played on my mouth as Stella tipped her head back with a dreamy expression.
She was always beautiful, but in Italy, freed from the pressures of the city and the lurking threat of her stalker, she was a different person. Happier, more playful and carefree, even compared to Hawaii.
I twined my fingers through hers when we resumed walking toward a viewpoint for sunset. I normally hated hand-holding, but I could make the occasional exception. We were on vacation, after all.
“So, does Italy live up to your expectations?” I asked.
“Nope.” An impish smile appeared at my raised brow. “It’s exceeded them. This place is…” She sighed. “Incredible. I mean, look at it.”
My smile blossomed into a grin when she released my hand and twirled. Her white dress flared around her thighs, and the setting sun gilded her skin with gold.
She looked so content and at peace I wished I could keep us here forever, ensconced in a bubble and untouched by the dangers that lurked back home.
“I’d rather look at you,” I said.
Stella stopped in front of me, breathless from her spin. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the summer air grew heavier between us, sweet with the scents of lemon verbena and sunshine.
“For someone who claims he’s not a romantic, you say the most romantic things.” She plucked a petal from a nearby flowering tree and tucked it into the pocket of my linen shirt. “I’m onto you, Christian Harper. Beneath that hard, cynical exterior…” She pressed her hand flat against my chest. “You’re a softie at heart.”
I would’ve laughed had she not been half right.
Only for you.
I lifted her hand and curled mine protectively around it.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill them.” I smiled to soften the statement, even though I wasn’t joking.
In my world, weakness was unacceptable, and she was the greatest weakness I had.
Stella gave me an exasperated look. “You always have to bring death into it.”
I laughed.
We continued walking until we reached the viewpoint. Nestled high in the hills and hidden from tourist traffic, it offered a perfect view of the pastel buildings and deep blue sea below.
Stella rested her head on my shoulder and stared dreamily at the landscape. “I’m in love with this place.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer. My eyes lingered on the delicate lines of her profile, tracing a path from the stray dark curls billowing around her face to the sparkle in her eyes and the curve of her lips.
I didn’t care much for art, but if I could immortalize her in that moment as a painting, I would.
The setting sun cast a gorgeous glow over the island, but I didn’t bother looking at the view. I kept my gaze on Stella.
“Me too.”
STELLA
My relationship with Christian could be measured in incremental shifts. It started with my move into the Mirage and inched forward milestone by milestone—our almost kiss, his confession, dinner with my family, Hawaii, our real kiss, and a million other moments that transformed us from strangers to something so much more.
But our time in Italy, especially after what he shared about his family, felt like more than an incremental shift.
It felt like a turning point.
Perhaps the turning point should’ve been our first time having sex or when we’d agreed to officially date, but Christian had never shared as much about himself as he had in Rome. And it hadn’t been just anything; it’d been a fundamental part of his upbringing, something that’d shaped him into who he was today.
He’d finally opened up. His past was ugly and messy, but it was real, and that was all I could ask for.
I turned my head and watched Christian adjust something on the boat’s instrument panel.
I’d seen him captain a boat before in Hawaii, but that’d been in the dark. In the sunlight, wearing nothing but black Tom Ford swim shorts and miles of bronzed skin, he looked like a Greek god come down from Mount Olympus.
“You should captain a boat more often.” I stretched, luxuriating in the sunshine. “It’s sexy.”
It was something I would’ve cringed at saying to anyone else, but I didn’t have to worry when I was with Christian. I could say anything and he wouldn’t judge or laugh at me.
His eyes glowed with amusement. “Good to know.” The rich, slightly husky timbre of his voice sent a delicious thrill down my spine.
We were currently anchored off the coast of Capri, our last stop in Italy.
There was no one around except us, a gentle breeze, and the faint scent of coconut sunscreen and salt-tinged sea air. The island’s famous Faraglioni rocks loomed in the distance like mountainous sentries emerging from the deep blue depths of the Tyrrhenian Sea, and the gentle rocking of the boat lent a dream-like quality to the scene.
In fact, the entire past month had been a dream, and I was scared I would wake up and find out it’d all been a figment of my imagination.
There was magic in reality, no matter how temporary.
“You’re overthinking again.” Christian could always tell when I spiraled down the dark paths of my mind.
“I can’t help it,” I admitted. “It’s my default setting.”
He settled beside me and wrapped a muscular arm around my waist. “What are you thinking about?”
“About how this doesn’t feel real,” I said softly. “It’s too good to be true.”
Every time something good happened to me, something terrible lurked in the wings, waiting to drag me down from my high.
My relationship with Christian had been perfect so far, but a part of me was waiting for that inevitable crash.
“It is real.” He pressed his mouth to the base of my throat. “And if it isn’t, I’ll find a way to make it real.” His kisses burned a path up my neck to my mouth. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Stella.”
My heart expanded so fast and full I thought it might explode.
“I know,” I whispered.
Christian pressed a light kiss on my mouth before he slid a hand over my hip. “Good. Now…” He hooked a finger in the string of my bikini. “Let’s quiet that overactive mind of yours, shall we?”
The air shifted. Heat drowned the soft emotion from a moment ago, and suddenly, my flushed skin had nothing to do with the sun blazing overhead.
I arched an eyebrow in an attempt to play it cool. “How do you propose we do that?”
His wicked smile curled like a sensual wisp of smoke in my stomach. “There’s plenty of rope on the boat, Butterfly.”
The suggestion throbbed with painful insistence between my thighs. He knew I liked being tied up, but…
“Here?” I squeaked.
We were in the wide-open sea. There was no one else around, but someone could come along at any moment.
“No one will see us. I promise.” Christian watched me carefully, his eyes like pools of golden-dipped amber in the sunlight. “Do you trust me?”
My pulse fluttered with nerves, but after a long, hesitant second, I nodded.
If he said no one would see us, no one would see us.
I would never tell him because I didn’t want to inflate his ego to Jupiter-size proportions, but I was convinced Christian could bring down the stars if he wanted.
My reservations melted when I felt the first bite of the rope around my wrists. I’d taken my bikini off at his orders, and I lay face up on the cushioned seat at the end of the boat while he bound my wrists together above my head.
The tighter the ties, the wetter I got.
I used to feel ashamed or embarrassed about my sexual proclivities, but being with Christian had put most of my worries to rest. He never made me feel bad about what I wanted in bed. He pushed me out of my comfort zone and embraced my fantasies so thoroughly they felt normal—which they were, according to my online research, but there was a difference between knowing something and feeling it.
Still, my body tightened with surprise when I saw the silk scarf in his hands.
“If you want me to take it off, tell me,” Christian said.
“Okay.” My voice pitched higher than usual.
I’d never been blindfolded during sex. The thought of not seeing the world around me made my stomach flip, but my tension eased when he tied the scarf around my eyes.
The hint of sunlight filtering through the thin silk was enough to help me relax.
I waited.
And waited.
I heard Christian moving around the boat, but he didn’t touch me.
In the absence of visual stimulation, all my thoughts turned to how vulnerable I was at that moment. My hands tied, my eyes covered, my body naked and bared to his gaze.
He could do anything he wanted to me.
Anticipation shivered over my skin.
I heard a soft clink and the nearing of footsteps.
My muscles pulled taut, waiting for—
A soft noise of surprise escaped when something cold pressed between my breasts.
An ice cube.
It didn’t touch my nipples, but they immediately hardened from the proximate chill. They poked against my bikini top, so sensitive the friction sent a tingle straight to my core.
“It’s a hot day,” Christian said lazily. “We need to cool you off before we get started.”
My breaths turned into pants when he dragged the ice cube down to my stomach, then up again, over and over until it melted against my skin.
I heard another clink, followed by the glide of another ice cube over my nipple.
Shivers erupted all over.
My nipples weren’t just hard anymore; they were almost painful with need as he circled them with the cube and rubbed it over the firm peaks.
Just when I couldn’t take it anymore, when the pleasure and pain formed an unbearable burn, the wet warmth of Christian’s mouth replaced the cold.
The sudden change in temperature sent shockwaves through my body.
“Christian,” I gasped. “Oh God.”
It wasn’t just the ice, the tight bindings on my wrists, or the way I tugged and twisted that made everything feel impossibly erotic. It was the play between hot and cold, the heightening of my senses due to the blindfold, and the way he took his time pleasuring every inch of my body.
My neck, my breasts, my stomach…by the time he moved between my legs, I was already a wet, slick mess from both my arousal and melted ice.
A noise between a gasp and a yelp climbed up my throat when he rubbed a warmed cube over my swollen clit.
“You have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” Christian groaned. “Open wider for me, sweetheart.”
I spread my legs farther, and he pushed the ice inside me at the same time he sucked my clit into my mouth.
One ice cube. One flick of his tongue. One reach of his hand up to pinch my nipple.
That was all it took.
My mouth parted in a silent cry as my orgasm exploded behind my eyes and traveled down my body in electric waves. It was like the sensations were so intense they snatched away my ability to scream, gasp, or do anything else except burn in a fire so hot I disintegrated right then and there on the deck of the boat.
No thoughts, no words, just a boneless heap of pleasure.
The orgasm went on seemingly forever, but when it finally subsided, sound rushed back in a deafening wave.
I sank deeper into the cushion, my chest heaving with ragged breaths.
I was so dazed I didn’t hear Christian switching positions until he hiked my legs up onto his shoulders.
“You look so beautiful tied up and blindfolded.” The tip of his cock brushed against my still sensitive sex as his voice roughened. “There’s no one around, Stella. I can make you scream as loud as I want. Fuck you as hard as your pussy can take it until you come all over my cock.”
A needy whimper left me.
I’d just come, but I needed him inside me.
I loved when he used his fingers and mouth, but there was nothing better than the sensation of Christian stretching and filling me.
The most intimate part of him in the deepest part of me.
Nothing else compared.
“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted. “The idea of me wrecking that tight little cunt while you’re helpless and bound?”
“Yes. Please,” I begged. “Fuck me.”
Another groan.
A pause.
And then a slam of his cock inside me as he fucked me like I’d asked.
No, not fucked—he ravaged me, turning me inside out with his touch and his words.
My body was bent practically double with my ankles by my ears and my hands tied together above my head while Christian pounded into me.
Brutally. Mercilessly. Perfectly.
Every thrust sent me sliding toward the edge of the seat, and my world devolved into a haze of sex, sweat, and heat.
The blindfold made everything twice as intense—the sensitivity of my skin, the feeling of his cock inside me, the sounds of squeals and broken whimpers mixed with his grunts and the obscene slap of flesh against flesh.
I craved release yet never wanted it to end.
Christian’s hands tightened around my ankles as he bent over me and forced my legs further back.
I was flexible enough that the angle didn’t hurt. However, it allowed him to slide deeper than he’d ever gone before, and I couldn’t hold back a gasp at the new sensation.
The ache in my center built to an excruciating level.
“So tight. So wet. So mine.” A thrill went through me at the dark possessiveness in his voice. “Come for me, Stella.”
He stayed buried inside me while he reached one hand down to pinch my clit.
This time, my screams echoed in the sultry air as my body shook from the force of my climax. I came so hard tears sprung to my eyes and leaked down my cheeks from behind the blindfold.
“Good girl.”
Christian kissed the tears away and slowed his thrusts, drawing out my release until he wrung every drop of pleasure from me.
It was only when I went limp with pleasure that he, too, came with a loud groan.
We lay there for a while, panting and blissed out. When our breaths finally slowed, he eased off me and removed the blindfold.
The world burst into color again, and I blinked a few times to adjust to the light.
“I hope that helped with your overthinking.” Christian untied my hands, his casual statement at odds with the savagery with which he’d just fucked me.
He smoothed gentle fingers over where the rope had bitten into my wrists until the faint burn subsided.
“Yes.” I let out a breathless laugh. “Best kind of cure.”
Christian came into view, his skin flushed from our most recent session. Somehow, he looked even more gorgeous than before.
His brows rose beneath my scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” My smile grew. “Absolutely nothing.”
I didn’t want to move, but I forced myself to sit up and put on my swimsuit in case we ran into other boats later.
Christian sank into the seat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders while I snuggled closer to his side.
The gentle rocking of the boat, the soft lap of the waves, the quiet, drowsy contentment in the air…
I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful afternoon.
I ran a lazy hand over Christian’s abs and chest. I rarely had the chance to soak him in like this. He was always the one taking care of me, not the other way around.
I rested my hand on his chest and kissed my way along the curve of his shoulder, up his neck, and along his jaw.
Christian lazed still, letting me explore him at my leisure.
The world saw him as a rich, handsome CEO, which he was. But there was another layer of Christian Harper beneath his carefully cultivated exterior.
I saw it in the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
I heard it in the way he encouraged me and stood up for me.
And I felt it in the way he held me like he never wanted to let go.
I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, my heart aching for a reason I couldn’t name.
Rich, handsome men were a dime a dozen, but men with hearts like his were a rare breed.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.
My lips brushed his once. Twice.
Maybe it was the sun, the dreamy lull after a month in Italy, or my lingering post-orgasmic high.
Whatever it was, it uncorked a hidden bottle of courage that poured onto my tongue and pushed three little words out.
“I love you,” I whispered.
I knew he didn’t believe in love.
I knew there was a strong chance he wouldn’t say it back.
But I had to tell him anyway.
It was time I stopped holding myself back from doing things I wanted because of how people might react.
Christian’s entire body went statue still. Even his breaths seemed to have ceased.
I lifted my head. A dark, tumultuous storm brewed in his eyes and charged the air with electricity.
“Stella…” His raw voice wrapped around my heart like a vine. “I don’t deserve your love.”
“You deserve it more than anyone.” His heartbeat thundered beneath my hand. “I’m not expecting you to say it back right now. But I wanted you to know.”
Christian’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. He curled his hand around the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine.
“The day I met you,” he said. “Was the luckiest day of my life. You’ve always been the brightest part of my world, Butterfly. And you always will be.”
The depth of emotion in his words stung my eyes. “You don’t strike me as a guy who believes in luck.”
“I believe in everything when it comes to you.”
Including love.
The implication resonated in the timbre of his voice and the way he kissed me again, like he was drowning and I was his only source of oxygen. Vital. Precious. Loved.
I melted into his embrace and let it sweep me away the way it always did.
Christian had his hang-ups about the L word, so I understood why it was difficult for him to say it out loud.
But I didn’t need to hear it when I felt it. And my conviction in our love was so strong, my high from my confession so great, that they drowned out the small, insidious voices whispering that the greatest falls always came after the greatest highs.
