"I'm terrified."
"Good. Fear keeps you sharp."
I stood, suddenly unable to bear the distance between us. We were inches apart now, the air thick with everything unspoken.
"What are we doing, Alessio?"
His jaw tightened. "What we have to."
"That's not what I mean."
He knew. I watched the knowledge flicker across his face—the same tension that had been building for days, the same hunger we'd both been ignoring.
"We're playing a dangerous game," he said.
"Everything about this is dangerous." I stepped closer. "My father wants me dead. Federal authorities are hunting me. You broke a blood oath to protect me. What's one more risk?"
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Then tell me." I held his gaze. "Tell me why you keep pulling away. Why do you look at me like that but won't—"
He kissed me.
Fierce and consuming, all the restraint finally shattered. His hands fisted in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. I made a sound—need or relief or both—and pressed against him.
The whiskey glasses hit the floor. Neither of us cared.
He lifted me onto the desk, scattering papers and blueprints. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulled him closer, desperate to eliminate every inch of space between us. His mouth moved to my throat, teeth scraping sensitive skin.
"Valentina—"
"Don't stop." I dragged his mouth back to mine. "Don't you dare stop."
His hands slid beneath my borrowed shirt, found bare skin. I arched into his touch, every deliberately restrained moment of the past two weeks catching fire at once.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to taste you first."
Before I could respond, he dropped to his knees, his hands sliding my borrowed sleep shorts down my legs and tossingthem aside. He looked up at me, and the hunger in his eyes made my breath catch.
"Lean back," he commanded softly.
I did, bracing myself on my hands as he spread my thighs. His mouth found me, and I gasped at the first stroke of his tongue.
He took his time, his beard scratching my thighs as he worked, driving me closer and closer to the edge with devastating precision. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him there, my hips rolling against his mouth.
"I'm close," I panted, my voice hoarse with need.
"Come for me, principessa," he demanded, his mouth never stopping its wicked dance. "Let me taste how sweet you are."
His words, his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it pushed me over the edge. I cried out, my body shaking as my orgasm ripped through me, waves of pleasure crashing over me.
Alessio drank me down, moaning his appreciation, and I felt him hard and eager against my thigh as he stood.
When I could breathe again, I pushed him back slightly, sliding off the desk to kneel before him. My desire for him was burning brighter than ever.
"My turn," I murmured, reaching for his belt.
I undid it with shaking hands, freeing him from its confines. He was hard, thick, ready. I took him in my hand, stroking his length, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch.
