I lean toward him. Slowly. Slowly, so he doesn’t sense a threat. I let my eyes close when I’m just an inch away, and I can feel his breath brushing over my lips. I press my mouth to his, my heart pounding so fast in my chest that I worry it might burst out, and I let my lips open.
And then Alessandro Castellani is kissing me back. His hand comes up around the back of my neck, caressing me in a way that makes goosebumps run up and down my spine, his tongue sliding against mine, making me moan.
I have one fleeting thought about Marty Gargiulo, about how right he was.
This was a kiss worth waiting for.
CHAPTER16
SANDRO
Teddy’s mouthis soft and sweet and tentative, and it’s all I can do not to tear his clothes off right here in the security room. But a sense of wonder quickly tempers my lust, because I did not know that kissing still felt like this for me.
The knife that took so much from me had also, I’d assumed, taken away my ability to kiss like this. The severed nerves meant I lost much of the feeling on the left side of my face.
I haven’t kissed anyone since the attack. When I hire men for a few hours, pay them for their time, I make it clear that they are not to kiss me, not to touch my face, not even look me in the eye.
I thought that would be a mercy.
Teddy breaks the kiss and my heart drops. But his hands are cupping my face as he drinks me in with his eyes, the blue irises dark with—yes, unmistakable now—with desire. A moment later he is climbing into my lap, straddling me in the office chair, just so he can press up close to me and kiss me harder.
When he leaned in, determination in his face, I thought it meant that I’d been right the first time—that he had been sent by someone to tempt me. Perhaps to kill me. What other reason could he have to kiss me here and now? But the moment his lips touched mine, all cynicism fell away.
Teddy’s kisses have a ring of truth to them.
I let him explore, kissing the sides of my mouth and down my throat, arch up to let him trace his tongue into the open vee of my shirt, then back up to under my ear, making me shiver in pleasure. His lips pause over the pulse in my neck, and I hear him give a soft exhalation, as though surprised to find it thrumming so hard.
I pull him back to my mouth, eager to test out what I thought I’d lost. He’s warm and comforting in my lap, wriggling his hips until I slide a hand down to his ass and pull him in close and firm. Against my mouth, he moans, and I let him rock against me at his own pace.
His fingers find my shirt buttons, begin to pull them open, and I start to think about where this might end. Him on his knees, my cock in his mouth, in his—
To the left of us, I hear a buzz. A moment later, it sounds again, and I grasp for rationality. Teddy has opened three buttons, is making for the fourth.
“Topolino,” I slur out. He doesn’t hear me. I reach for his hand, seize his fingers in mine. “Stop.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, looking down at me. His mouth is wet, the eyes glazed, passion staining his cheeks.
I let his hand go so I can pick up the phone, and stifle a curse when I see the name on the message.
“Alessandro—” he begins, a breathy whisper, but I have regained my senses. I push him off carefully, helping him to his feet, and then I get to mine.
He’s upset, worried, though he tries to hide it. I run a thumb over his kiss-flushed lips and lean close to his ear. “I have to go. I’ll take you back to your room.” His mouth trembles, and I almost wince at the sharp spike of need that runs through me. “I won’t be long. When I get back…”
What am I saying? When I get back—what? It must sound like a threat rather than a promise. Once he thinks over the last few moments, he’ll realize that I’ve taken advantage of him.
But he’s smiling, a gentle, hopeful smile that confuses me. “Will you be long?”
“No.” I pause. “Perhaps. It’s difficult to tell.”
Meetings with my mother are never easy.
* * *
I take three bodyguards and a driver with me to the Bellamy Grand. My mother refuses to stay in anything but luxury, and complete privacy. We are shown up at last, and when I step into the penthouse, my bodyguards and my mother’s sniff around each other like cautious dogs.
I’m let through quickly, courteously, and then all of the guards disappear, leaving only my mother and me in the living area.
My mother is lying on the couch, flicking through French Vogue with a bored expression, but throws the magazine aside as she swings her feet down.Literallythrows the magazine; it flaps like a heavy bird before hitting the ground with a dull thud.
