“Polite doesn’t work on girls like me,” I said softly, meaning every single word. I didn’t do polite. Couldn’t stand polite. Polite was cautious. Safe. Marco. Polite was never enough.
“Would you rather I bend you over the counter or let you climb into my lap and do it yourself?”
My breath stuttered embarrassingly in my throat, and I gripped his tie harder, just to keep myself steady. I didn’t know what scared me more: that I wanted him to follow through, or that he actually might.
“Lap. Counter. Doesn’t matter,” I finally breathed, the words tumbling out. “You’ll still hate yourself for wanting it afterward.”
Marco lifted his head slowly, meeting my eye straight-on. “It’s impressive how wrong you are.”
Because I knew if Marco Grey didn’t hate himself afterward, I would. And yet somehow, I still wasn’t letting go of his tie.
Marco’s hand came up and slid against my jaw, his fingers curling around my chin as if he’d finally lost whatever internal battle he’d been fighting. He tilted my face up toward his, pulling me close.
Then he kissed me.
Andfuck.
I knew it would be good—Iknewit—but I wasn’t prepared forhowgood. I wasn’t prepared for the way he responded instantly, like he hadn’t just been standing there unaffected, waiting, acting like hedidn’t needthis just as badly as I did.
There was nothing careful or hesitant about the kiss either. It was possessive, consuming, like he’d been starving himself for weeks just to avoid tasting me.
I felt my back hit the kitchen counter as Marco lifted me easily onto the cold marble surface, not breaking the kiss.
I should have been nervous. This man with hands that had held much more dangerous things than me—he wasn’t a boy fumbling at my waist in the dark; he was a man who knew exactly how this would go.
He guided me like he already knew what my body would do before I did. Like he could predict my hesitation, my second-guessing, my messy panic.
His hands were still on my waist, still pressing me against him, still gripping me like he wasn’t done. Whatever control he usually operated under had finally cracked, and now that he had me here,he wasn’t ready to let go.
I felt the way his breath fanned against my skin; the way his fingers flexed against my hips; the way he kissed me like he’d been waiting forthis exact moment.
“Tell me to stop,” he said between kisses, his voice wrecked.
“Why would I do that?” I smirked against his mouth.
“Because I’m not Greg orSebastianor whoever the fuck else you let crawl between your legs to feel wanted.”
“No, but you’re just as desperate.”
He bit my lip.
Ouch.
“If desperation had a face, it’d look exactly like yours—makeup smudged, mouth open, always waiting for someone to tell you what you’re worth.”
“You wanna know my worth,lawyer? Start at my knees and work your way up.”
“I don’t reward self-sabotage with orgasms.”
I hummed. “That’s a shame. I thought you might finally prove you’re good for something other than telling me what to do.”
“You’ve spent years confusing attention from assholes with affection, and you think I need to prove myself? You didn’t make Greg work for it. You didn’t make Sebastian either. But I’m the one who needs to prove something? Be serious, Valentina.”
With a smile, I admitted, “I never sucked Greg’s dick. Do you really think I have to go that far to get what I want?”
“No. You wouldn’t have to, would you? Sebastian already taught you how to make a fool of yourself for free.”
“Jealous?” I asked gently. “You should be. At least Sebastian knew what to do with me.”
