Her body can’t lie—she is feeling this as much as me.
“Or what?” I purr, leaning down into her face.
“Or I’ll claw your eyes out.”
My lips tip up at the corners. “I’d pay good money to see you try, kitten.”
“You already have,” she retorts, attempting to stare me down. “You’ll get to witness it firsthand very soon.”
“I look forward to it, honey,” I truthfully reply before pressing my face into her hair and sucking in a deep breath.
A choked sound fills the car as the bus driver presses down on his horn, joining the slew of other angry drivers trapped behind him.
Oops.Better get out of here before the cops show up. It’s a miracle they haven’t already. Not that I’m worried. We have the cops in the palm of our hand now, thanks to my timely intervention when I first arrived in Florida.
“Did you just sniff my hair?” Her face contorts as she stares at me like I’ve just sprouted horns on my head.
“Yep. Get used to it, kitten. When I get you to New York, I’ll be all up in your personal space.” I slam her door closed and race around the hood of my car, quickly climbing behind the wheel. I waste no time revving the engine and flooring it out of there.
“I think you’re determined to give me whiplash today,” she murmurs as she jerks forward in her seat, restrained by the belt.
I ease up on the accelerator. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done what you’re told and got in the car when I first pulled up.” Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I stare her straight in the eyes. “Disobey me again, and you’re getting spanked.”
The leather squelches under her delectable ass when she turns to face me. “In case it missed your attention, you’re not my husband, and you have no authority to tell me what to do.” She jabs her finger in my direction as I slow down when we approach the junction. “And before you throw out you have five million reasons to do so, again, that is completely irrelevant until Friday.”
“Tell me, kitten, is it me who brings your claws to the surface, or was the face you wore last night a mask to hide your true personality?”
“Don’t pretend to know me, and you can quit analyzing me too. You won’t figure me out because I won’t let you, and I’m certainly not giving you any ammunition,” she spits as the car rolls to a stop in traffic at the lights.
I take advantage of the brief driving interlude to put my face all up in hers. “I like my women feisty, so keep fighting me, honey. All it does is turn me the fuck on.” Before she can second-guess my move, I grab her hand and place it over my now rock-hard crotch.
Her eyes widen, and her throat bobs in an audible swallow.
“Feel that, kitten?” I drag her hand back and forth along my hard length. “That’s what your words do to me, so by all means, keep it up.”
She snatches her hand back, and I let her go as the lights change and traffic starts moving.
“There is something very, very wrong with you,” she whispers a few beats later, and I throw back my head and laugh.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that.” I cast a quick glance at her, loving having her sitting beside me. She looks so perfect at my side, like she was born to be there. Her hair is a little wild, her makeup fading, and that dress she’s got on is way too old for her, but she still looks like my every wet dream come to life. I think she could rock up in a garbage bag and I’d still want her. “I bet you’re imagining what my monster cock will feel like sliding between those slender thighs, pushing through those pouty lips, and driving into that pretty little puckered hole of yours.” The lights change, and I drive through the junction and take a left.
Her mouth hangs open as she stares at me, and I wish I could enjoy the view, but I need to keep my eyes on the road before I wrap my pride and joy around a palm tree and never get to experience nirvana between the sheets with Valentina Ferraro.
“What’s the matter, kitty cat? Got nothing to say to that?” I ask after a few silent beats.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” She lifts her chin and levels me with a challenging look.
I’m so intrigued by this woman, especially because I can’t figure her out. “You don’t need to reply. Your body is doing all the talking for you.”
Her eyes glisten with anger as she folds her arms across her chest and turns away from me to the window.
“Tell me about yourself,” I say, deciding to try a different tactic.
“No,” she replies, continuing to give me the cold shoulder.
I quietly chuckle before speaking. “Valentina Sara Ferraro née Baresi. Twenty-four years old. Eighteen when she married the recently widowed Dominic Ferraro. Parents Vincenzo and Emiliana. They clearly were fucking like bunnies to produce ten kids within thirteen years and?—”
Her head whips around, her furious gaze pinning me in place. “What are you doing?”
