A low chuckle slips from my throat as my gaze settles on her lips with deliberate intent. "Uh-uh. That's not how it works. You owe me a kiss on the lips." She tries to stare me down, but I don't look away. She finally releases a dramatic sigh, grabs me by the collar, and pulls me into a hard, obedient kiss.
My control snaps like brittle glass, although the truth is that I never had any control when it came to her. Before she can even think about pulling away, I drag her onto my lap, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other clamped tightly around her waist.
Her mouth parts beneath mine and I take advantage of it without hesitation, letting my tongue and teeth and every greedy piece of need I have claim her. I know every pair of eyes in the restaurant is on us, but their attention means nothing to me.
She tastes like vanilla and my ruin, my cock is already painfully hard making me feel like a teenager discovering pleasure for the first time. She kisses me back with hesitation that burns away into heat and then into raw want. Her teeth graze my lower lip before she bites down with enough pressure to make me groan against her mouth. She trails kisses down my jaw to my neck and bites me again, sharp and claiming, sending fire straight through every nerve.
A startled gasp breaks the quiet across the room as silverware slips from someone's hand and strikes a plate, and a wave of hushed, unsettled whispers sweeps through the tables around us. But I don't care, the woman I've fallen in love with is kissing me and I don't want it to end. she finally pulls back, her lips are swollen and her breath comes out fast. There is a thinsheen of saliva between us, and she looks dazed before reality snaps back into her eyes. She slides off my lap and smooths her dress, but the moment she steps back, she freezes. Her gaze drops to the wet patch spreading across my trousers. She lifts her eyes to mine with slow amusement.
"You really can't control yourself around me," she says, her voice soft and cutting making my pulse pound. "If you knew I can't why do you keep trying to tempt me."
She picks up the file and the box containing the dress. She turns toward the exit, then glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile that I will think about for the rest of the night.
"Handle that," she murmurs, her tone wickedly satisfied. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Ivanovich." And just like that, she's gone. I sit there, dazed, pressing a hand to my chest trying to catch my breath.
My neck still throbs where she's bitten me. "That woman," I mutter, watching the door swing shut behind her. "Is going to get me killed."
• • •
Two weeks later and I swear I can still taste her on my lips. Not a day's gone by without thinking about that kiss. I think I've gone insane, yes that has to be it. Meanwhile, the senator? Let's just say he folded like the pathetic coward he is.
According to my informants, he let go of the property and still paid three hundred and forty-seven thousand euros in damages to keep his secrets buried. Pathetic. Of course, he comes storming into my office afterward, red in the face, finger pointed at me like I personally handed over his dirty laundry. I mean I did, but it was for a good cause.
"You gave the lawyer my secrets," he hisses. I stare at him, keeping my expression neutral. "I did no such thing." And what can he do? Nothing. It's not like he can kill me. The man leaves coughing, still humiliated, still broke, and still without the damn building.
Meanwhile, my woman is living her best life. Word has it she's been driving around the custom-made Porsche Cayenne I got her. Bright yellow with cream leather interior, bold enough to turn heads on every street. I've noticed how much she gravitates toward bright, eye-catching things, so I make sure every damn inch of that car screams hers.
I’m in my office three days after the car is delivered when my phone rings. I pick up immediately not wanting to keep her waiting. "Mr. Ivanovic," her voice comes through, sharp and amused.
"Angel," I say, leaning back in my chair, already grinning like an idiot. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Listen here, Mr. Ivanovich. I don't know what kind of sugar baby fantasy you're living in, but I'm keeping this car. Consider it compensation for my mental health, the kiss you forced me to give you, and that awkward public spectacle you put me through."
I chuckle. "I'm glad you like it."
"I didn't say I liked it," she shoots back. "I said I'm keeping it. There's a difference."
"Noted."
"Also," she purrs, dragging the words out like she knows exactly what effect they have, "wire me money for a full tank. I can't afford to keep the car sitting without fuel," she says, hertone playful over the line. "And since it was your bright idea to buy me a car, don't you think you should handle filling it up?"
I'm already pulling up my banking app. "How much do you need, my love?"
"Fifteen thousand should cover it for a while. Maybe throw in some extra for insurance. This thing's a liability waiting to happen."
I type in the amount without hesitation. Sending Fifty thousand euros. Just because.
"Done," I say. There's a pause on her end. "Already?"
"Yes, my love."
She scoffs. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're expensive," I counter, still smiling. "But I don't mind."
Theres another pause. I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "So....When can I see you again, there's this new restaurant I want us to visit downtown?" I ask, anticipating our next meeting. Theres silence on her end that stretches long after my question. "Angel?"
"Goodbye, Mr. Ivanovich," she says sweetly. And then she hangs up.
