"I was worried about you! You weren't answering any of my messages!"
"So worried that you forgot to put on panties?"
"Yes!" Her cheeks are flushing now, color rising. "And how did you even know for certain? Did you—did you look?"
"I didn't need to look. I could feel it when you were grinding against me." I lean across the console separating us. "But yes, I looked. When you uncrossed your legs to stand up.How could I not? So did Alexei. So did his brother Dmitri. Both of them saw everything."
Her eyes widen. "They saw everything?"
"They saw enough," I confirm, my hand landing on her thigh just above her knee. "Enough to know you weren't wearing anything. Enough to look at you like they wanted to fuck you." I stop, getting furious again at the memory. "I walked away from a thirty-thousand-euro pot because of you. Because I couldn't concentrate on anything except you."
"What do you mean?"
"Because all I could think about was this." My hand slides higher, slowly, deliberately, under the hem of that ridiculous excuse for a dress. "Your bare skin. How soft you felt. Whether you were as affected by sitting in my lap as I was. Whether you wanted me to touch you as much as I wanted to."
Her breath catches. "Santo—"
"Whether you were wet for me," I continue, my voice rough with desire.
My fingers brush higher between her legs, and she gasps at the contact.
"You are," I murmur, my voice dropping even lower. "You're absolutely soaked."
"That's—" She breaks off when my hand moves higher. "We're in a car.”
“I don't give a fuck where we are." I lean in close, my mouth near her ear. "You showed up at my game uninvited. Interrupted important business. Sat in my lap with no underwear and drove me completely out of my mind. Now I'm going to finish what you started."
"I didn't start anything—" she protests weakly.
"You did," I correct firmly. My fingers find where she's hot and ready for me. "The moment you walked through that door in this dress. The moment you sat on me and squirmed in my lap. You knew exactly what you were doing."
"I didn't—I swear—" She's breathless now.
"Liar." I kiss along her jaw, tasting her skin. "You wanted this. You wanted my attention."
"Maybe," she admits in barely a whisper. "Maybe I did want this."
"Say it clearly. Tell me."
"I wanted this." Her hips shift against my hand, seeking more contact. "I wanted you to notice me. To react."
"I noticed everything," I assure her. "I noticed the way that dress clung to every curve. The way you moved in my lap. The way you looked at me when I grabbed your thigh as a warning."
"You were so angry," she breathes.
"I still am angry. Furious, actually. You could have been hurt tonight. Those men are genuinely dangerous."
"You wouldn't have let them hurt me," she says with surprising confidence.
"No. I wouldn't have." My other hand slides into her hair, pulling her close. I capture her mouth in a hard kiss, claiming her completely. She opens for me immediately, her hands clutching desperately at my shoulders. She's trembling against me, making small sounds that drive me absolutely crazy with want.
"Santo, please—" she gasps against my mouth.
"Please what? Tell me what you need."
"I need—" She rocks against my hand, seeking more. "You."
Something in me snaps at her words, breaks completely.
