ISABELLA

Chapter 42

Leo didn’t respond. He simply led her down the hallway, each step measured and deliberate, the air between them charged with a slow, heavy tension that Isabella felt in every nerve. Her pulse raced, and even though she wanted to tease him back, she knew better—he was in control, and right now, he wasn’t the kind of man to be ignored.

Leo guided Isabella into his private office, closing the door behind them with a firm click. The sudden privacy made the air heavy, thick with unspoken tension. He turned to face her, his dark eyes smoldering with something between anger, desire, and possessive obsession.

“You,” he said, his voice low, rough, and full of warning, “getting that close to Riccardo… you think you can tease me like that?”

Isabella’s chest tightened. “I… we were just watching a movie…” she tried to explain, but the words sounded weak even to her own ears.

Leo stepped closer, closing the space between them, and reached for her face. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t lie to me,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I saw the way you laughed, the way you leaned. You’re mine, Isabella.”

Before she could respond, his lips captured hers in a possessive, fiery kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was demanding, claiming, a warning wrapped in desire. Her knees weakened, her breath catching as he deepened the kiss, sliding his hands to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “Why were you that close to him? Did you want me to see?”

Isabella swallowed hard, her pulse racing, cheeks flushing. She didn’t answer, and that was all the provocation he needed.

Leo’s hands roamed with precision, brushing against every sensitive place he could reach without overstepping her boundaries—her shoulders, the sides of her neck, her collarbones. Each touch, each kiss along her skin, was a claim, a reminder of possession, a punishment for teasing him so blatantly.

“Do you understand?” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of her neck. “You belong to me, and no one else gets that kind of closeness.”

Isabella shivered, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

Isabella’s breath hitched as his lips and hands continued their teasing, each kiss along her neck, collarbone, and shoulders sending shivers down her spine. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips, muffled against his shoulder.

“Leo…” she gasped, her voice trembling, part frustration, part desire. Her hands instinctively went to his chest, pressing lightly, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, reading every flicker of expression. “That’s right,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, “let me hear it. You feel that because of me. You feel me claiming you.”

Another soft moan slipped past her lips, longer this time, a little breathy, shaky, betraying her racing pulse and the heat building inside her.

Leo’s grin was almost imperceptible, but there was a dark satisfaction in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered, leaning in to trail kisses down her shoulder, her neck again, eliciting a series of soft, pleading moans from her. “You’re mine, Isabella. Mine to punish… mine to protect. You understand?”

Her soft, trembling “Yes…” was barely audible, but it carried all the weight of submission and the undeniable spark between them. Her moans grew quieter yet deeper, a combination of frustration, shivers, and the heated longing that Leo’s presence always awakened.

He lingered close, letting the tension hang, pressing the point of possession without crossing lines she wasn’t ready for, every moan she let out only feeding his intensity, marking this slow, burning claim that wasn’t going to be ignored.

Leo’s hands slid gently along her thighs as he lifted her, guiding her to sit on his desk. The sudden elevation made her pulse quicken, and she couldn’t help the soft inhale escaping her lips.

He stood between her legs, his presence overwhelming, towering, yet somehow protective. His hands rested lightly on her thighs, sliding just under the hem of her skirt, teasing, drawing a shiver from her without crossing any lines.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on hers. “That heat? That tension? That’s because of me… because I care enough to make sure you understand where you belong.”

Isabella’s cheeks flushed, her lips parting slightly as she swallowed, caught between embarrassment and a strange thrill. “Leo… I…” she started, but he silenced her with a raised finger, his touch gentle but insistent.

“You don’t speak,” he said, voice low and commanding, “not when I’m reminding you that this… us… it’s mine to control. You don’t get to forget that, not for a second.”

She nodded slightly, almost breathless, aware of the intensity in his gaze and the way his hands rested on her, not hurting, not crossing lines, but claiming, possessing, asserting his dominance in a way that left her shivering and aware of every inch of him.

He lingered there, chest to chest, the tension crackling between them, lips close enough she could feel his warmth. “Remember this,” he whispered, sliding one hand slightly higher, resting on her thigh just under the skirt’s edge, “everywhere you go, every breath you take—I’m always here. Watching. Protecting. Claiming.”

Isabella’s soft, involuntary breath escaped her again, a tiny moan of frustration and anticipation. Leo smirked, knowing exactly the effect he had on her, the slow burn of desire, the heat of tension, without crossing a single line she wasn’t ready for.

Leo’s hand trailed higher, sliding between her thighs with deliberate slowness, until his fingers slipped against her warmth. Isabella gasped, her body jolting at the sudden intrusion as his finger pushed inside her. Her nails dug lightly into his shirt, her breath breaking into uneven whimpers she couldn’t hold back.

“Leo…” she moaned, her voice trembling, part plea and part surrender.

He smirked, pressing his lips near her ear, his words dripping with control. “That’s it, bella. Don’t fight it. Feel me.”

He began to move his finger in and out, steady at first, watching every flicker of her expression—the way her lashes fluttered shut, the way her mouth parted in soft, desperate sounds. Her hips twitched against his hand, trying to match his rhythm, but he slowed down deliberately, tormenting her with his pace.

Her moans grew louder, shaky and broken. “Ohh… ahhh… Leo… please…”

The sound drove him deeper, and he slipped a second finger inside her, stretching her just enough to pull another cry from her lips. Her back arched, her chest pressing into him, as if her body had given up trying to hide how much she needed him.

“Do you feel how helpless you are in my hands?” he whispered, curling his fingers just right, making her cry out again.

Her voice cracked around a moan, breathless and raw. “Yes… oh God—don’t stop…”

Leo’s grin widened, his dark eyes drinking her in, his control absolute. Each movement of his hand was purposeful, claiming her, making her unravel piece by piece. Her moans filled the room, sweet and desperate, echoing the effect he had on her.

And yet—just when he felt her start to tremble, her body building toward release—he slowed, almost to a stop, pulling his fingers back with maddening restraint.

Her head fell forward against his chest, her voice breaking with frustration. “You… you’re cruel,” she breathed, her cheeks burning with need.

He brushed his lips across her temple, his voice rough but steady. “No, bella. I’m in control. And you love every second of it.”