“I mean, it’s not a secret,” I mutter.
“That’s not what I asked,” he rasps, his finger caressing my skin. I find myself seduced by his gaze and touch.
“No,” I whisper. “It doesn’t make me nervous. It did, at first but I've known you for three years now. I don't think you hurt people who didn't deserve it.” Not like I want to hurt every single person that works under him, but I push down my own little temper. Lorenzo is right. It would be hard to work with an honest person with a guilty conscience and leave unscathed. It's a necessary sin, it seems. “I'm still digging through the files, but it's going to take a while before I can pinpoint the person who’s been selling your information and stealing from your company.”
Lorenzo doesn’t point out the sudden change of subject and instead rolls with it. The rest of the dinner happens in a comfortable silence, then we get back to work.
By the time we finish, it’s late. Lorenzo stretches, eyeing the clock, and I find myself not wanting the night to end.
“Stay,” I say before I can overthink it. “It’s late, and you shouldn't drive.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Is that concern for my safety, or do you just want me in your bed?”
“Both.”
It’s nearly midnight when we slide into bed. With Lorenzo's firm hand around my waist, his solid body pressed against me in my small queen-size bed, I figure it's only a matter of time before I fall asleep.
I don’t.
For what feels like hours, I lie in bed staring at the wall, thinking about all the people in the IT department. Twelve in total, and all of them flawed beyond measure. I can’t figure out why that bothers me when I’m literally in bed with a mob boss. A man with hacking skills that would be dangerous if he weren't disciplined.
And there it is. Lorenzo is not reckless. He’s not reckless as the Rossis’ IT specialist, and he’s not reckless as Raziel, the hacker.
To not wake him, I quietly turn around to face him. Taking in his features in the dark, I tamp down the urge to reach up and trace those sharp lines of his jawline and the dark stubble. I want to trace the pad of my thumb over his brows and touch his lips. That mouth that has touched my most intimate parts in the last week we've been together. Normally, I don’t like sharing my space with others, but I’ve found myself craving Lorenzo’s presence when he’s not around. Missing him and his touch. But hell, we never do more than touch and talk.
And I want more.
“I can hear that pretty mind of yours running,” Lorenzo says into the dark, startling me. His eyes are still closed when he speaks.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I never fall asleep before you.” Finally, those eyes open and lock with mine in the dark. “You have no idea how many nights you kept me up on the phone. I couldn’t go to bed until I was certain that you had.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Will you tell me what you’re thinking about?”
“You,” I whisper, bringing my fingers up to touch his jawline now that he’s awake. I trace my fingers over the edge before moving them to that firm mouth I love kissing. “I was wondering why you won’t sleep with me.”
He laughs, the sound deep, but I don’t miss the tension underneath. “I could have sworn it's you who has been sleeping by my side these past couple of days.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean,” I say, moving closer until there isn’t much space between our faces. “Don’t you want to have sex with me?”
His eyes flash dangerously. “Don't ever question how much I want you.”
“Then why haven't you—”
“Because when I take you,” he growls, cutting me off, “I want nothing else on your mind. Not the case. Not your brother’s company or mine.” His hand slides up to grip my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “When I fuck you, Fiona, you'll be thinking of nothing but me. Feeling nothing but me. I’ve been waiting for this investigation to stop consuming every waking moment so I can consume you.”
My breath catches. “The case could take weeks.”
“Then I would have waited weeks.” His thumb drags across my lower lip. “But right now, lying in this bed with you, I’m not thinking about the investigation. Are you?”
“No,” I whisper.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” I admit. “Just you.”
