‘You have feelings about it, I gather.’ I push out my chair and put one foot on the opposite knee. ‘At least, judging by that note and your latest threat to my person.’
When people stand before my desk, they’re usually white with fear, but not my Caterina. She storms up to the desk itself, puts her hands on the edge and leans forward. Her hair slides over her shoulders, brushing the desktop and the neckline of her dress dips, making it very clear that she’s not wearing a bra.
‘Damn right, I have feelings,’ she says, staring daggers at me. ‘He’s a terrible father, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die. No one should have the power to make life-and-death decisions about another human being.’
Ah, now we’re getting into it. Pity. I have no patience for conversations about ethics. ‘And yet people make those decisions every day,’ I say, trying to keep my gaze from the neckline of her dress. ‘Anyway, it’s not your decision. It’s mine.’
‘He’smyfather,’ she insists. ‘Who decided you get to be judge, jury and executioner anyway?’
It’s difficult to concentrate on what she’s talking about, especially when she clearly has no concept of what I can see and the fact that I’m already starting to get hard. ‘What do you care?’ I demand, losing patience. ‘I’ll be the one taking his life, not you.’
She takes a breath, fury still burning in her eyes. ‘Because I’ll know I could have stopped you.’
‘Oh yes?’ I hold her gaze, letting her see what she’s up against, the absolute force of my will. ‘And how could you have done that,gattina?’
At first she’s still, just staring at me. Then she takes another breath, pushes herself away from the desk and straightens up. Then before I can move or speak, she’s coming around to where I’m sitting and sliding herself up onto the desk in front of me. Then she daintily places one elegant, bare foot on each of the arms of my chair and grips the hem of her dress. ‘Let him live and I’ll let you do whatever you want with me, Wolf.’
A wolf is what I am and a starving one at that, because I can see a little way up her dress, as she no doubt intended, to the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs, and I can smell in the air the scent of jasmine and aroused woman.
She’s using sex against me, and why shouldn’t she? After what happened between us last night? I’d admire her guts if I didn’t want her so fucking much.
It shouldn’t be difficult to refuse, it shouldn’t, because this matters to me. This matters to my cause. I can’t be seen to be weak, not at this time, and that’s exactly what letting Salvatore live would make me seem.
But itisdifficult to refuse. Because now all I can think about is shoving my chair back, stripping her dress off and laying her back on my desk to taste every inch of her.
‘What makes you think I want to do anything at all with you?’ I drawl, trying to fight her pull. ‘Especially when I’ve already had you.’
She doesn’t speak, but her gaze drops to my lap, where I’m already hard.
‘Oh, that?’ I don’t move. ‘I can easily get someone else to see to that. Or I could handle it myself. I have at least one working hand, after all.’
‘You don’t want your hand.’ She’s looking straight at me when she says this, as if she knows. As if she can see the truth in my gaze. ‘You want me.’
Holy fuck, this woman… She’s barely had sex, has no conception of men, yet she’s manipulating me with the ease of a practiced flirt. And I’m letting her do it.
She’s right. You want her. So take her.
The wolf in me will brook no argument and before I know what I’m doing, I’m shoving back my chair, and stepping between her parted thighs. My hands reach for her hips, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress.
Her eyes widen and she puts out a hand, her palm landing directly on my chest. ‘He lives,’ she says insistently. ‘Promise me.’
I don’t want to. An example needs to be made, yet that’s not what I say. ‘Yes,’ I say instead, barely even thinking about Salvatore and my wretched crusade, everything concentrated on the woman in front of me. ‘I promise.’
Her hand slides up my chest, to the back of my head and she pulls my mouth down on hers, and I’m lost. She tastes sweet, like honey and vanilla, and I can’t get enough. I devour her, my hands automatically dropping to grab fistfuls of her dress, pulling the hem up to her waist. She gasps against my mouth as I slide a hand between her thighs to find she’s not wearing any underwear.
‘Naughty,gattina,’ I murmur as I find her sensitive little clit and stroke her there lightly. ‘Using sex to manipulate me.’
She shivers, gasping again as I explore the soft folds between her thighs, stroking her, feeling how incredibly wet she is already for me. ‘I… I’m not m-manipulating you,’ she whispers. ‘I’m only using whatever I can to make sure my father stays alive.’
I slide a finger inside her, then as she moans, another. She’s so wet there’s no resistance and I’m more than ready to replace those fingers with my cock. But I’m not going to do that now. I’m going to take my time now, explore her completely, undo her the way she’s undoing me.
I lift my mouth from hers. ‘I’m going to want more than one wedding night,’ I say as I trail kisses down the side of her neck, moving my hand to drive her steadily mad. ‘I’m going to want you in my bed every night.’
She sighs, her hips shifting against my hand so I withdraw it. ‘Promise me,’ I say, echoing her as I lift my head and look down into her pleasure-flushed face.
Her eyes are dark, forest green instead of grass, and her mouth is full and red from my kiss. She’s delectable, all her anger transmuted into raw desire, and I can’t help but think of all the arguments we’re going to have and how sweet the making up will be.
‘Please,’ she says, her voice husky. ‘Please…’
