Her eyes widen. "What?"

"Your fantasy," I say again, the back of my hand lightly skimming down her arm, barely touching her, but the contact makes her shiver. "It doesn't matter what it is. No matter how small or strange it may seem."

"I, uh... I don't know."

"Come on, we all have our kinks," I say, going toe-to-toe with her, putting no space between our bodies. I have her pressed back against the glass, my cheek resting against hers as I whisper in her ear. "I want to know what turns you on, what you think about when you're all alone, touching yourself."

She inhales sharply as I run a hand up her body between us, caressing her stomach and fondling her breasts in that dress. My tongue runs along the shell of her ear as I give her a moment to think about an answer.

"I, uh..." Her voice shakes. "I'm not sure."

She's nervous.

I want to put her at ease, but another part of me would rather shove her over the edge, pull out of her everything she buries deep. But I need her to open up willingly, and she's not volunteering that part of her.

Stubborn woman.

Fucking beautiful, stubborn ass woman.

She's going to be the end of me.

"You want me to tell you a secret?" I ask when she comes up with nothing. "Want to know what turns me on?"

She nods.

"There's nothing sexier than hearing you sigh," I confess. "Especially that first thrust... your breath hitches, and you gasp, like you can't believe how good it feels to have my cock inside of you."

"I can't," she admits as she ducks her head shyly, staring up at me through her thick lashes. "It's my guilty pleasure."

Guilty pleasure.

"Are you ashamed you love it?"

"Always."

"Are you ashamed you love me?"

She hesitates for a second before whispering, "sometimes."

She says it like she's afraid for me to hear it, like she's afraid of my reaction.

But the thing is, I know how she feels.

I know the shame and the turmoil.

I know how it feels to love someone you shouldn't.

I fell in love with her.

It was my worst nightmare.

But sometimes nightmares are simply fueled by fear... fear of something we don't understand. A clown isn't scary when it takes off its makeup. A monster isn't so terrifying when you turn on the light. My enemy was my enemy until I looked inside of her and realized we weren't so different, after all.

She talks to me about regret, but what she doesn't realize is that even if she destroys me in the end, I'll never want to erase what we have. I'd never want to take back a single moment of this.

I'm not heartless—my heart is just hardened, while the rest of me is hollow. But she breathes life into what long ago stopped trying to live.

She's oxygen, and without her, I'm dead.

Her eyes dart to the floor as her head lowers even more. My hand trails further up, cupping her chin so she'll meet my gaze. "I know how you feel."

"Do you?"

"I told you before—I like you, and that's a problem for me."

"Have you found a solution to that problem yet?"

I smile, my thumb gently caressing her face. "I have."

She's silent for a few beats before she whispers, "What is it?"

"Marrying you."

All at once her expression shifts as she rolls her eyes. "How is that a solution?"

"Well, you won't be a Rita anymore."

As soon as I say it, she pushes against my chest, catching me off guard as she slips around me. I reach out and catch her wrist, holding her there before she can walk away.

She spins back in my direction, sighing exasperatedly.

I can't help it.

My cock twitches as the sound comes from her lips.

"I'll always be who I am, Ignazio," she says seriously. I hate when she calls me that name but once again my cock twitches. She's furious. And that? I fucking love it. "You could drain every drop of blood from my body and it wouldn't change anything. It's in my cells. My body. It's in me, every single part of me."

She yanks her arm from my grasp, but she stands there, not walking away.

"I'm not going to marry you because I'm a Rita. That's not a solution. I'd rather you just kill me now if that's all this is to you... if it's just some stupid alternative to ending my life. When I marry you, it'll be despite that fact, just like I'm here with you right now despite it."

She's upset, ranting, and continues to go on and on, but I'm caught on something she said seconds ago.

When I marry you...

Not an if.

A when.

I catch myself smiling, and she catches it, too. Eyes narrowed, scowling, she spits venom at me in the form of scathing words. "What the hell do you find so amusing?"

"You," I admit, laughing and stopping her when she tries to walk away from me again. "Ah, don't be that way. It's your fault, really, for being so beautiful when you get angry."

"You're crazy."

"I am," I say. "You make me that way."

There's no arguing that fact.

She merely glares at me.

"Come on," I say pulling her closer. "I want to know what turns you on. Is it role playing?"

She slowly shakes her head.

"Threesomes?"

She scrunches up her nose. Thank God. I'm not sure I could share this woman with anyone.