His hand shoots out, gripping my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop me.
“Say something.” His voice is low, rough.
I look down at his hand on my wrist, then slowly raise my eyes to his face. His jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek, but his eyes hold something vulnerable.
I can’t help but soften. Reaching into the pan with my free hand, I pinch a tiny amount of risotto between my fingers and hold it up to his mouth.
“Taste.”
His eyes narrow, suspicious, but he leans forward and takes it from my fingers with his teeth, his tongue darting out to lick my fingers clean. I watch his face as he chews, as his eyes close briefly in that expression I’ve come to crave.
When he opens his eyes, they’re darker, hungrier. I pull the risotto out of his reach, turning back to the stove.
“Hey—”
“It needs to rest,” I say mildly, covering the pan.
“Sophie.” There’s a warning in his tone, but also something playful at the edges.
“Vincenzo.” I match his tone exactly.
“You’re being a brat.”
The word makes happiness blossom through me like saffron dissolving in broth. I bite back a smile.
“A brat?” I glance at him over my shoulder, knowing my face is giving me away. “Brats get punished, don’t they?”
He goes very still. I feel his gaze scraping over me. Then he breathes out, long and hard.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, his voice dropping into that gravelly register that makes my pussy throb. “They do.”
I portion the risotto onto two plates, my movements deliberately unhurried. The silence between us is charged with electricity.
“You won’t feed me.” His voice comes from directly behind me now, close enough that I feel each word against my ear. “And you’re wearing clothes in the kitchen. You’re definitely asking for punishment.”
I don’t respond, just garnish each plate with fresh basil and a drizzle of truffle oil.
“And now you’re not listening?” His hand slides to my hip. “Big trouble, princess.”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, setting down the oil, “you should listen.”
The words hit him hard, I can feel it. His grip on my hip tightens.
“What did you just say?”
I turn to face him, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. My heart is racing, but I work hard to keep my voice steady. “I said maybe you should listen. For once.”
His eyes flash. “Careful, Sophia.”
“I’m done being careful.” The words spill out before I can stop them, all these days of frustration finding their voice. “You fuck my—” I catch myself, soften my tone. “You take me however you want even when I’ve told you that I don’t like it, that I prefer—”
He cuts me off, his mouth crashing into mine with bruising force. His kiss wipes away everything: my breath, my thoughts, everything. I melt into him, opening for him as his hands fist in my hair.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“What do you want?” The question sounds like it’s been dragged out of him. “Tell me what you want, Sophie.”
My whole body feels like liquid. “For starters, you could—”
