Chapter 96.
The moment Ignazio’s lips crashed against hers, Isabella felt herself shatter.
His kiss wasn’t gentle. It was hungry. Desperate. Consuming.
He devoured her mouth, his tongue pushing past her lips, demanding control, owning her.
Isabella whimpered against him, her hands threading through his jet-black hair, pulling him closer—harder—deeper. She could taste the fire on his tongue, the raw possession in every movement.
Ignazio groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her body, making her legs weaken beneath his hold.
His hands—rough, strong, familiar—gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly, pressing her fully against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, kissing her like a man who had been starving for her, dying for her, burnin
