My lips tingled.
My heart pounded in my ears.
I couldn’t catch my breath.
“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.” His voice was black velvet set out to freeze.
I secretly loved it when he called me sweetheart. It was rare, but every time he did, there was this rough lilt to it I couldn’t place. And it always rolled down my spine in the same way: electric.
His gaze was so cold it gave me chills, and in some careless, terrifying manner I’d never seen from the strait-laced fed, he dropped his tumbler to the floor. It shattered across the tile, sending a tremor through me.
I eyed the shards of glass and muttered, “That’s going to be a mess to clean up.”
“You couldn’t survive me, Gianna.” It was just a statement of fact. “Nothing fragile ever does.”
Staring at a piece of glass that was so close to my feet it reflected my sparkly nail polish, the broken tumbler took on another meaning.
It was me, after this man was done with me.
The panic attack he’d witnessed two years ago was suddenly loud between us. And, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last he’d ever see.
My mind was spinning, and I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “You killed Charming.”
He didn’t blink at the nickname. “He’s not the first.”
“And won’t be the last?” I mused. “What about me, Officer? Would you kill me?”
I held my breath as he stepped forward, lightly grasping my throat.
“It would make my life a lot easier,” he drawled, caressing my fluttering pulse with a thumb before pressing down on it slightly. His hand on me, rough, and covered in the blood of all his enemies—and most likely innocents—shouldn’t affect me the way it did. But I was burning up, and I needed more. So much more.
Nonetheless, he stepped away from me.
I turned to follow him with my eyes as he walked around the island. “I know you probably already feel awful about it, but you missed my birthday this year.”
“Awful,” he agreed, his voice dry.
“See, I knew it. But that’s okay, because you can make it up to me now.”
“Ah.” A small smile pulled on a corner of his lips. “You want your present.”
Of the physical sort, yes. I wanted my clothes off. I wanted to drop to my knees and make this man feel good. I wanted his hands on me, his head between my legs. And if I survived all of that, I wanted him inside me. I knew it would be the best sex I’d ever had.
My eyes must have conveyed my thoughts, because his gaze darkened. “I’m not one of your admirers. I’m not going to hold my dick and pine over you, just waiting for the day you might choose me. If I fuck you, Gianna, nobody else ever will.”
My stomach dropped, and I almost choked on my next breath.
“If you don’t get your ass out of my apartment while you still can”—his voice drifted to a dark rasp—“there’s no going back from this.”
A shiver rolled down my spine.
He would tie himself to a relationship with me just because we’d had sex? Why? I was sure he didn’t apply the same stipulations to his other women, or surely, they’d all agree animatedly. Maybe he was just trying to scare me, but regardless, I wasn’t going to underestimate him this time, not now that I knew he was his own man and that he could easily hold my future in his palm if he wanted to.
I didn’t want another man controlling my life, especially one who hated that he was even attracted to me.
A piece of glass cut into my foot, and I winced but quietly made my way to the door. “This has been riveting, but, honestly, it’s a little intense for a first date. I’m going to have to be more particular about who I swipe right on from now on.”
His narrowed gaze fell to my feet. “You’re bleeding.”
I laughed with an angry edge. “Don’t get me started on blood, Allister. You’re buying me a new rug.”
“Stop.”
I ignored him. “By the way, I had to convince Shaniqua I was your girlfriend and that I thought you were a cheating bastard. Hope that’s okay.”
Before I realized he was so close, he grabbed me by the waist from behind and picked me up. It felt like I was a Pollyanna doll being tugged around. “Put me down, Allister. I don’t sleep with feds.”
“If I decided I wanted you, sleep is not the word I would use.”
He set me on the bathroom counter, and for some reason, a rush of nerves shot through me.
“Why don’t you want me?” I asked. “Is it because your good looks would pale beside mine?”
His eyes were lazy and unamused as he reached behind me and opened a cabinet. His arm singed as it brushed mine. His body heat overwhelmed me. And his deep, masculine scent made my head dizzy. My limbs felt heavy and light all at once, my skin buzzing like a live wire.
Out of breath, I watched him set a bottle of peroxide, a cotton ball, and a Band-Aid next to me.
He lifted my foot and began to gently clean the cut himself. I swallowed, stunned quiet. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever done something like this for me. Not since Mamma. How could a man be so cold, and yet so warm all at once?
My heart tripped over its next beat.
I ached. For human contact. For, unexpectedly, him.
I had always been impulsive, never thinking things through. I lived for the moment, for the high and the feeling, and right now, I would do anything to have this man’s hands on me.
With a shaky pulse, I slipped my shirt off and dropped it next to his feet. He went so still even the air quieted, but he took his time putting the Band-Aid on before he let himself look up. Bottomless. Mesmerizing. And hotter than fire. I unclipped my bra while he watched, letting it drop to the floor.
My breasts felt tight and heavy, and the satisfaction from him just looking at my body was nearly overwhelming. My voice came out on a breath.
“You never answered my question, Officer.”
Do you kiss? The silent words floated in the air between us.
He stepped between my legs, and his eyes on my breasts were so hot it sent a flush up my neck. He circled a thumb over the button of my shorts, and my nipples tightened.
“Who am I kissing?”
My heart was racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.
He popped the button through the hole.
“One of your women,” I breathed.
I leaned back on my hands to lift my hips as he pulled my shorts and thong down my legs. He threw them to the side and focused his gaze between my spread thighs. His eyes darkened, and he ran a hand across his mouth.
I couldn’t say I was a very modest woman, but I’d never thought I’d be naked, spread-eagled for this man I hated on his bathroom counter. A shiver rolled through me, and he ran a finger down the goosebumps on my arm.
“What do you think?” he said.
He didn’t kiss. And for some reason, I didn’t know if I should feel pleased or disappointed. What I did know was that I wanted to press my lips to this man’s for hours, until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
His thumb traced my well-maintained landing strip. My stomach tightened. My blood was on fire. He’d never looked at me this way, with such a soft, consuming desire in his eyes, like he’d never seen a woman before. Like I was everything.
It terrified me.
I gasped as he pulled my head back by my hair, pressed his lips to my neck, and made a wild, rough sound of anger, like he’d just been forced to surrender a hard-fought fight. “Play with fire, sweetheart,” he rasped, “you’re gonna get burned.”
He lifted me off the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Walking me down the hall, he held me tightly, as if I was precious, or as if he couldn’t figure out how to hurt me first.
He dropped me on the bed. My breasts bounced from the impact, and his heavy gaze caressed me there. Slipping a hand up my stomach, he cupped one, squeezed. Rubbed a thumb across my nipple.
I exhale
d, pleasure blazing a path to my core.
“Should have known you would be this perfect,” he murmured.
My heart warmed but the feeling was interrupted as he flipped me onto my stomach. His hands caressed my ass, each grabbing a handful.
“Wait . . .” I breathed. “Are we going back to the chalkboard? Before you said all that weird stuff?” A shiver shot up my spine as he nipped my ass cheek.
“Drawing board,” he corrected, before kissing and lightly sucking on my inner thigh.
“Yeah, that—” I moaned, digging my fingers into the sheets as the wet heat of his tongue swept between my legs. “Oh, God . . .”
He groaned low in his throat, and then he flipped me onto my back, his body covering mine, his hard-on settling between my legs. Placing a hand on either side of me, he leaned in and nipped my breast before sucking the nipple deep. Heat erupted inside of me, liquefying in my veins. I grabbed his biceps, only able to get my hands around a quarter of them. Antonio was tall and strong, but he wasn’t this thick. A wave of nervousness rushed in. I preferred normal-sized men because they were more on my level; I didn’t fear they could crush my windpipe with a single squeeze.
Maybe I was getting over my head.
But then he switched breasts, pinching one nipple and sucking the other.
Oh, well.
“Take off your shirt,” I begged.
I wanted to feel him—the muscle beneath his skin, the heat of his body, the heavy beat of his heart against mine.
I stilled in anticipation when he lifted his head because I thought he was going to kiss me, but he only pressed his mouth to my ear. “I’ll let you know when I start taking orders from little Italian girls.” It was a harsh and arrogant statement, but his voice was so full of lust it only drove me crazier. I rolled my hips, rubbing myself up and down his erection as he kissed a hot, wet line down my neck.
I moaned, scraping my nails down his arms, trying to crawl into his skin.
He dropped back between my legs, not hesitating before dipping his head and licking me from entrance to clit. The growl of satisfaction that escaped him vibrated against me, and I already fought the imminent orgasm. He ran a rough hand down my leg, pulling my thigh over his shoulder. It was almost tender, the soft sweep of his palm against my skin, and a beat skipped in my chest.
I ran my fingers through his hair, but he shook my hand off, so I grabbed two fistfuls of the comforter instead, while spewing unintelligible English and Italian as he pushed his tongue inside me. In and out. In and out. My eyes rolled back in my head, my spine arching off the bed. A drop of sweat ran between my breasts. He worked me like he’d been there before, knowing just how much to give before pulling back.
In a mindless state, I ran a hand into his hair again, grabbing a handful and moving my hips at the same time, trying to keep his attention where I needed it. He let me control the movement for only a second. He nipped at my clit and I yelped, trying to jump back and out of his hold. Pain pulsed in that spot.
His narrowed gaze found mine. “You take what I give you.”
I glared, barely biting back the retort on my tongue.
“Go ahead and say it,” he warned.
I did say it, because one, he’d goaded it from me, and two, I was a glutton for punishment.
“You’re an asshole.”
I was expecting it, but I still had to hold in a gasp when he smacked me between the legs. Dark satisfaction crawled up from where I’d hidden her deep inside, fiery-red hair and all.
“Anything else?”
Defiance ignited inside me, but I bit my tongue and shook my head.
“Good,” he murmured, his gaze lazy, before sucking at my clit.
It still throbbed with pain, but the wet heat of his mouth was electrifying, setting my entire body on fire. The pressure built and built as he continued to draw out my release for as long as he could. I cried out, squirming against his immovable hold.
I wanted to run my hands all over him, but I knew, if I touched his precious hair he’d stop. So, I rested a hand over his on my thigh, locking my fingers with his, and in pure, mindless lust, tugged at my hair with the other.
Sparks burned hotter, and then, suddenly, the pressure exploded. I came so hard my ears rang, pulling all sounds underwater. I closed my eyes and struggled to catch my breath. A languid sensation pulled on my muscles, and I’d never felt such peace come over me. He said something, but I couldn’t hear a word of it.
My eyes fluttered open to see his on me. His breathing was uneven, and his gaze was filled with something soft and dark that I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand.
He was much different than a man I would choose in a crowd, but maybe that was why I found him so appealing. He terrified me a little bit, and I always did like to live on the edge.
Crawling to my knees, I knelt in front of him, rested my hands on his chest, and pressed my lips to his neck. The small taste made me feel dizzy. I kissed him from his ear down to his collar, and he inhaled a heavy breath. I tried to undo his tie, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrist. He held onto it as I went lower, running my face down his stomach, kissing his abs through his shirt. His hand settled in my hair, running through my locks.
The ringing of a phone cut through the air. He stilled, and I knew—call it intuition—that if he got up, this was over. I wasn’t ready. Rrring, rrring, rrring. With my eyes on him, I licked his erection through his pants. He let out a rough noise of frustration. When I reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed my wrist again.
I moaned in protest as he pulled away from me and walked to his jacket, which hung on the back of a chair in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window. I lay on my stomach and watched him answer the call.
“Allister.”
His eyes didn’t stray from me as he spoke on the phone.
I thought I could hear a man on the other line, and it didn’t sound like he was speaking any language I understood.
“When did you last see him?” Allister was quiet for a while before a spark of frustration lit in his eyes. “I’ll be there tomorrow.” He hung up.
Silence swept into the room.
This was over.
Disappointment . . . and something heavier flooded me.
But then he dropped to his haunches in front of me, ran a hand across my cheek, and kissed me. Shock and warmth erupted in my chest. I moaned, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and climbed onto him until I sat on his thighs. He tasted so good, so addictive. And I savored every lick and dip, every press of our lips. He kissed me without any reservation, like he had a right to, like I was his.
The kiss became different than any I’d ever experienced. More gentle . . . more momentous, and I didn’t like that. I reached for his belt, but he stopped me with a vise grip on my wrist.
“Allister,” I begged.
“I just had my tongue inside you,” he said, annoyed. “You can start calling me by my first name.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
His eyes darkened as he took in my expression. “You forgot my name.”
When I didn’t deny it, he shook his head and then dropped me on my ass on the bed. Oh, God, what was it? I’d been tipsy when I’d asked him a while ago, and it hadn’t helped that I only ever referred to him as Allister or Officer.
“I have to go away for a while,” he said, slipping his suit jacket on. “You can stay here tonight, or I’ll take you home.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Do your goddamn homework before getting in someone’s bed, Gianna.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know the name of every woman you sleep with?”
“Yes.”
I sighed, suddenly feeling very naked. And tired. I didn’t want to go to my apartment, not tonight. Magdalena only came by a few times a week, and it was lonely there.
“I’d like to stay here,” I murmured.
He stopped in front of me. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.”
“This?”
“Us.”
Oh. A myriad of confusing feelings rushed me at once, so I decided to avoid all of them.
“Do you have a decent cereal selection?”
He ran a thumb across my cheek. “You won’t forget me.” It was an order, but a tiny amount of vulnerability showed through. It warmed my chest. My hair was a mess, the hair tie slipping halfway down my ponytail. He pulled it from the messy locks and then put it in his pocket.
“How could someone ever forget your face?” I said.
For some reason, he thought that was funny. A smile touched the corner of his lips, and it was so sexy I stood up and kissed him. He made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat, but he let me have that kiss. Soft, wet, and sweet.
He slipped a business card into my hand. “Call this number if you need anything.”
“Sure thing, Officer.”
He smacked me lightly on the ass and walked out of the room.
I later did my homework. His name was Christian.
But it didn’t matter.
It would be three more years before I’d ever see him again.
I walked down 7th Avenue, struggling to balance my phone, latte, yoga mat, and purse.
“I mean, what kind of guy goes down on a girl and then doesn’t even call her back so she can reciprocate?” Those were the first words out of Valentina’s mouth after I’d had to juggle my things to get my phone to my ear.
“Why did I tell you about this again?” I asked.
“Because I’m an expert of men, and you wanted me to dissect your pretty fed’s brain.”
True. “And?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, honey, I don’t think he’s into you.”
I mulled that around. I couldn’t say her words felt right—he kissed me—but why else wouldn’t he have even called after two weeks? A vulnerability had followed me around since that night. He’d seen me naked, had made me come apart under his hands. I’d begged him for more. And I’d gotten nothing from him. He hadn’t even taken off his stupid tie. Maybe it was all part of his game. Or maybe he was already bored of me. Frustration heated my cheeks.
“He only had Raisin Bran,” I muttered.
The Maddest Obsession (Made Book 2) Page 9
