Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

reaction, her expression… they weren’t those of a grown woman but of a girl on
her way to becoming a woman.
I pushed up, stifling a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m ticklish.”
She regarded me with uncertainty, her eyes suddenly filled with anxiety. This
wasn’t going how I hoped it would. The makeup and elegant dress had made her
look older. Now, without a touch of makeup and dressed in her nightgown, she
looked like the teenager that she was.
I did what was necessary. I threatened, tortured, killed, so sleeping with my
wife should have been a piece of cake.
I ignored her apology and stood. The faster I got this over with, the better. I
removed my shirt, followed by my pants and socks. When I reached for my
boxers, I noticed Giulia’s gaze. Her eyes were huge, which made her look even
younger and more innocent, and she stared at me in a mix of fascination and fear.
I released my waistband, deciding it was better if I kept my cock covered for
now. If she let out a terrified shriek upon seeing it, I’d tell Luca to screw himself
on the fucking sheets and then my blood would definitely tinge them red.
Perched on the edge of the bed, I reached for her knee, touching it lightly.
She twitched again and bit her lip, trying to hold in another giggle.
“I’m fairly sure I know one place where you’re not ticklish,” I said
sardonically.
She pursed her lips. “You can’t know…” Her eyes widened. “You mean…”
She sucked in a quick breath. At least she understood my comment. If she’d
stared at me blankly, I would have lost it.
I knelt on the bed. I wanted to relax her enough to keep her pain to a
minimum. My first wife had cried through our first time together, an experience I
really didn’t want to repeat.
I pushed up her nightgown enough to reach her panties, and my groin
tightened in a familiar way seeing the valley between her thighs. I touched my
fingers to her hips, sliding them into the waistband of her underwear.
She was perfectly still, watching me with parted lips and that damn
innocence that was going to kill me. “Can I take them off?”
It was a rhetorical question—we both knew what was expected.
“What if I say no? Would it matter?” she asked with a hint of insolence.
“Would it make you feel better if I continued despite your saying no? It
certainly won’t help me.”
“I doubt you’d care. It certainly won’t hurt you as much as me.”
Anger surged through me. I moved over her, bracing myself beside her
shoulders. Her hands came up as if to ward me off, soft palms pressing against
my chest. Her eyes widened, and she darted them to my pecs, her fingers shaking
against me.
“Listen up. You’re right, you’ll be the one who’ll experience discomfort, but
I can guarantee you that being bratty about it doesn’t help. If you work with me,
it’ll be better.”