"Of what?"
"This." She gestures between us. "Whatever's happening here."
Something in me snaps. I move without thinking, backing her against the wall, caging her with my body. Her breath catches as my hands plant on either side of her head.
"You want to know what I'm afraid of, lupacchiotta?" I press closer, feeling her heart hammer against my chest. "I'm afraid of how much I want you. How much I think about you. How fucking impossible it is to get you out of my head."
Her pupils dilate, her breath comes faster. I can feel the heat of her through our clothes.
"I'm not supposed to want this," I murmur, my lips hovering just above hers. "Not with you. Not with anyone."
"Then don't," she whispers, but her body betrays her. She arches slightly, pressing herself against me.
"Too late." I slide one hand to cradle her face, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "Way too fucking late."
I step closer to Zoe, my control slipping with each passing second. The movie's forgotten, its soundtrack a distant noise as I focus entirely on her.
"Take off your clothes," I command, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that leaves no room for argument. "And get on the couch. On your hands and knees."
She holds my gaze as her fingers find the buttons of her dress. One by one, they come undone, revealing smooth skin inch by tantalizing inch. She lets the fabric slide from her shoulders before reaching behind to unhook her bra.
My jaw clenches as her breasts spill free, perfect and begging for my touch. But I don't move. Not yet.
"All of it," I remind her, watching as she shimmies out of her underwear.
Naked now, she moves to the couch, positioning herself as I commanded—on all fours, her back arched slightly. The sight of her like this, offering herself to me, drives me crazy.
I stand back, simply taking in the view. The elegant curve of her spine. The way her hair falls over one shoulder. The smooth, perfect skin of her ass.
"Damiano," she calls, her voice thick with need.
"Patience, Zoe," I murmur, circling the couch, committing every angle to memory.
When I finally approach, I trail my fingertips down her back, barely touching, feeling her shiver beneath my hand. I trace patterns on her skin, moving lower, closer to where she wants me most.
"Please," she whispers, looking back at me over her shoulder.
"Please what?" I ask, grazing my fingers along the inside of her thighs.
"Touch me."
Her breathless plea stokes the fire in my veins. I drop to my knees behind her, spreading her legs wider, exposing her completely to my gaze. She's already wet for me, her arousal evident and intoxicating.
I lean forward, placing a kiss on each cheek of her ass before moving to where she's aching for me. At thefirst broad stroke of my tongue, she cries out, her back arching deeper.
Before I can catch my breath, he scoops me into his arms. I feel weightless as he carries me from the living room through the darkened hallway and into what must be the master bedroom. The moonlight streams through sheer curtains, casting everything in silvery light.
He lays me down on the bed, the cool sheets beneath my heated skin. I slide my hand down my body, between my legs, my fingers finding the wetness he created.
His eyes lock onto the movement of my hand as I begin to touch myself, circling slowly.
"Fuck," he growls, his hands moving to his shirt buttons.
I continue pleasuring myself while watching him undress. He tears his shirt open impatiently, buttons flying, revealing the magnificent canvas of his chest and torso.
His pants come next, dropping to the floor as he kicks them aside. Standing only in black boxer briefs now, I can see the impressive outline of his arousal straining against the fabric.
A dangerous smile curves his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down his powerful thighs. My breath catches in my throat as he stands completely naked before me.
