His eyes darken, something feral slipping through the cracks of control. “I am completely, utterly obsessed with you. I’ve tried to dress it up as protection, civility…care. But it’s lies. All of it.”
His forehead presses down against mine, the contact electric and unbearable.
“I’ve wanted you since I felt your perfect body slam into mine, since you opened your brilliant mouth and vomited your life story all over the floor. You’ve made me feel alive, Erin, for the first time in years. Sharing a bed with you and keeping my hands to myself has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
His hand slides from my chin to my waist, and he grips me hard. I can’t tell if it’s an attempt to keep me from running, to ground himself or to stake his claim.
“The only thing that’s been stopping me is the fear of what you’d think if you ever discovered the truth about who I am,” he says, his voice rough. “That was the last thread of restraint I had, and…”
He releases a sharp exhale and it’s followed by a pause that feels like a breaking point.
“It’s gone.”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes again, giving me one final, devastating look—a warning and promise all at once.
“So tell me, Erin,” he says in a soft voice laced with threat. “Do you want me to walk away? Or do you want me to stop pretending I can?”
My heart has screeched to a halt, my breath has frozen in my lungs. My entire body is on edge, waiting for a verdict from my head.
I’ve only ever been with a man who never opens up, who goes to bed fully clothed, whose idea of a decent sex life is themissionary position once in a blue moon, followed by a hot shower and heavy exfoliation.
Though I haven’t known this man long, he’s opened up to me more in twenty-four hours than Gerard did in twenty years. He doesn’t go to bed fully clothed—he goes to bed wearing a pair of low-slung grey pajama pants that could have jumped straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. And if the way he’s looking at me now—like he wants to rip off my clothes and sink his teeth into every inch of my flesh—is any indication, I expect missionary is just one position in an expansive repertoire.
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to find a reason why I should want him to walk away. He lied to me? I now know it was to keep me safe. He’s in the mafia? As my gaze trails over his dark eyes, rounded shoulders and thick, muscular frame, I can’t bring myself to care.
My lip pops free, my voice a whisper.
“Stop prete?—”
I don’t get the last word out before his mouth crashes against mine. His hands come up to my face, one pushing into my hair, wrapping it around his fist, the other gripped around my jaw. He holds me still this way as his tongue delves deep into my mouth, making me open up to him.
Shivers wrack down my spine, creating little waves of electric shocks, as he takes every single thing he wants.
I’ve never been kissed like this in all my life—like I’m not something to be handled delicately; like I’m something to beconsumed.
I’m utterly helpless in his hands, my bones weakened by the intensity. He feasts on my lips, tongue, teeth, everything he can reach, guttural sounds of desperation making me embarrassingly wet.
When he pulls away with a growl, we stare at each other, panting hard.
“If I take you now, Erin, you’re mine. You understand?”
My lips burn from his assault and my brain is so scrambled I can’t think of an answer.
His gaze lasers into me. “I told you I don’t share. So, what’s it to be? Are youmine?”
A small breath escapes my lungs. In this moment I want nothing more than to be his, and I don’t have the strength to think rationally.
“Yes, I’m yours, Augusto.”
He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me, then walks us both into the bedroom where he drops me on the bed. Hair flies across my face with the impact, so I blow it away with a puff of air.
“Take off your coat,” he orders in a lusty, throaty voice.
I’d forgotten I was wearing it. I shrug out of the sleeves and toss it to the floor. My lids are heavy with lust when I lift them to Augusto. He pushes the waistband of his sweats over his hips, making my mouth water.
His brow furrows when he nods his head. “Boots,” he barks.
Shit, I have footwear on too. Where the hell has my head gone?
