Crisp white linens, scattered with deep red rose petals, beckoned us to sink into their embrace. Vintage sconces cast a golden glow over the room, their soft flicker reflecting off the glass of the roaring fireplace. The window was cracked just enough to let in the night air, a cool breath mingling with the soothing scent of lavender.

“Shocked there’s no bottle of champagne.” I gave his hand a hard, knowing squeeze.

“Want all the decisions you make tonight to be yours, now don’t we?” he rasped before cupping my face in his hands. The warmth of his body pressed against mine, his heat enveloping me. “I love you so damn much.”

“Love you more,” I whispered, lost in him, in this moment, in the way our lips met like this was both our first time and our last.

A moment later, he knelt before me and offered to remove my sandals. I held on to his shoulders for balance, loving the feel of his solid strength beneath my palm. The way his muscles flexed even with the simple act. Fierce and commanding in every part of his life, yet here he was on his knees for me.

The soft wave of his dark hair fell over his forehead as he stood tall again. My fingers slipped between us, unfastening his belt. The metal clinked, followed by the slow slide of his zipper. My pulse pounded as I stepped back, reaching for my dress.

His gaze tracked my every movement. Jaw tight. Breathing shallow.

The firelight danced over his face as I slid the straps from my shoulders. First the dress. Then the bra. All that remained were my satin panties, cream-colored and delicate, barely a whisper against my skin.

He inhaled sharply, his broad chest rising with a measured breath. His hands flexed at his sides as I hooked my thumbs beneath the waistband, my pulse thrumming in anticipation.

I had never felt more powerful. More confident. More his.

“There’s something I’ve never done before,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire, “and I want to do it before we get into that bed and make love.”

His brows lifted, confusion flickering in his eyes.

Panties slipping to the floor, I reached for his hand in silent request to help me kneel before him now. My gift to him. My surrender.

“You’ve never . . .?” he asked through gritted teeth, his voice raw with disbelief.

I looked up at him, heat pooling between us. “I’ve never.”

He dropped to his knees, hitting the hardwood floors, and kissed me. “Fuck,” he whispered against my tongue. “What am I going to do with you?” He growled a few Italian words while blindly searching for something without breaking away. “Are you sure?”

He’d grabbed the red-and-black plaid blanket from the bench at the end of the bed and held it between us.