Chapter 189
"I'll make dinner for you. I'm hungry too, anyway."
Isabella's response carried an almost innocent kind of effort.
She even tried to lift the blanket and get up, but before her feet could touch the ground, a pair of strong, firm arms pulled her back, landing her once again in that warm, familiar embrace.
Vitale held Isabella tightly, his chin resting on her soft hair, his voice low and muffled, tinged with a barely restrained restlessness, "Isabella, you should know, my kind of hunger isn't the same as the hunger you're talking about."
He paused, his tone mixed with a gritted-teeth kind of frustration and a desire that was nearly breaking through his self-control, "That damn doctor Jerry warned me not to touch you until you're fully recovered."
"He said it might make things worse for you." Vitale tightened his grip, pulling her closer against the hard, undeniable proof of his desire, "But God help me, my body is restless right now, very restless. Tell me, what am I supposed to do?"
His words were blunt and heated, filled with raw desire and a touch of irritation at being held back by rules.
Isabella wasn't some naive little girl anymore.
She understood the clear, unhidden meaning behind Vitale's words.
Rationally, she knew Jerry's warning made sense. Her emotional wounds hadn't fully healed, and her body was still weak. Maybe it really wasn't the right time for such intense closeness.
But her body had its own memories and desires.
Just being held like this by Vitale, her back pressed against his hot, solid chest, feeling his strong heartbeat and the unmistakable hardness pressing against her waist and hips, sent a familiar, shivering heat rushing from deep in her belly, spreading through her entire body.
Her body craved Vitale.
It ached for him.
The kiss she had offered earlier to comfort him hadn't started with desire, but the familiar touch of their lips and tongues, his dominant and possessive presence, had unknowingly stirred the embers of passion that had been dormant for days.
Back then, the heavy burden of not knowing if Eva was alive or dead had weighed on her heart like a giant rock, making it impossible for her to respond to that ignited desire.
But now, things were different.
When Vitale confirmed that Eva was alive and gave her a reasonable explanation and assurance, that rock on her heart shattered and fell away.
A mix of overwhelming joy and complete relief washed over her, sweeping away the gloom that had lingered for days.
Isabella felt like she had finally broken free from a long, terrifying nightmare.
Her soul and body felt light again, free again.
Facing Vitale's almost burning body heat, Isabella didn't pull away or weigh the pros and cons with her mind.
She slowly turned in his arms, facing him, lifting her head and raising her hands to gently cup his cheeks.
Her fingertips brushed against the slight stubble on his jaw, her palms pressed against his warm skin.
Her movements were slow and gentle, yet carried an unprecedented, determined initiative.
"Then come to me, Vitale," Isabella's voice was soft but clear, filled with a complete trust and invitation as she offered herself to him, "Let's melt into each other."
She paused, a faint shadow flickering in her eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by a stronger desire and reliance on him.
She leaned closer to Vitale, whispering near his lips with a barely noticeable trace of vulnerability and plea, "And I hope... you can help me forget. Forget the touch of those men."
"Even though they didn't succeed, their disgusting words and sickening actions made me feel so uncomfortable, so uncomfortable."
Her last words trembled slightly, revealing the lingering humiliation and her deep desire to feel clean again.
She wanted Vitale's touch—his unique touch filled with love and possession—to cover and wash away those filthy memories.
Vitale's heart clenched painfully at Isabella's words.
At the same time, a wave of heartache, tenderness, and an even stronger protective urge surged through him.
He held her tightly, as if wanting to fuse her into his very bones, his voice low and hoarse, "Isabella, I can't be too rough. I'm afraid your body won't be able to handle it."
"You're not fully recovered yet."
He cupped Isabella's face, pressing his forehead against hers, "But I promise, I'll make you forget those scumbags, in my own way."
With Vitale's promise, the last trace of hesitation in Isabella's eyes vanished, replaced by complete trust and a hazy surrender.
She leaned in and kissed his lips, no longer the comforting or rescuing kind of kiss from before, but one full of invitation and longing.
Vitale let out a low growl, no longer holding back, responding to Isabella with passion and gentleness.
But his actions were unexpectedly, incredibly tender.
He didn't rush in with the usual eager dominance or storm-like intensity.
This time, Vitale treated Isabella like a fragile treasure, as if it were their first night together.
His kisses started at her lips, light as a feather, then moved downward, softly brushing her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, the side of her neck, her collarbone...
Each spot was kissed with endless care and reverence.
His large hands, warm with heat, gently traced over the faint scars and bruises on Isabella's body, as if trying to soothe away all the pain she had endured with his fingertips.
The foreplay was long, almost torturous, yet so intoxicating that it was impossible to pull away.
Vitale used every bit of patience and skill, his tongue and fingers taking turns to ignite small flames of desire on Isabella's sensitive body, controlling the pace just right to keep her from reaching the peak too soon.
He kept her in a state of trembling pleasure, wrapped in gentle caresses and sweet longing.
Isabella was completely lost in the web of desire he had woven.
The memories of captivity and dirty touches felt so distant and unreal in the face of this extreme tenderness and focus.
Her body relaxed under his touch, becoming soft and ready, her pussy already wet with anticipation, waiting for him.