I spill into the hall and hustle for the elevators, heels clicking, pulse hammering, way too aware of Raffael hot on my tail.
I reach the call button. Strike it harder than necessary.
Then he’s there. Shadowing me. Not touching. Just radiating temptation at my back.
“Despite your concession,” he growls near my ear, “I’m struggling at the thought of letting you leave.”
And despite the trauma of my previous captivity, the prospect of being trapped here is devastatingly compelling.
The elevator dings, and the door slides open.
“You’re a strong man, Raffael.” I step inside. “You can handle it.”
I press the button for the lobby and retreat to the far wall, my stomach on a spin cycle.
He watches me. Visually devours.
My dress becomes a sensitive second skin, my nipples painfully beading against the fabric.
It’s devastating how easily he reduces me to sensation. How bodily autonomy becomes an illusion. A myth.
The doors begin to close, and I hold my breath—waiting,aching—the space between us thinning to a fragile sliver brittle enough to crack.
A few more inches and I’ll be able to regroup. Breathe.
Ten more.
Five.
Two.
Relief feels within my grasp.
Then Raffael’s hands slam between the inch-thick gap, stopping the doors’ momentum. Gears groan as he pushes the metal barriers apart and takes a chilling step inside the elevator.
“I apologize,la mia rovina,but it seems I’m nowhere near as strong as you think I am.”
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
RAFFAEL
I bridgethe space between us. “You’ve ruined me.”
She bristles. Chin lifting. Spine straightening.
For a second, apprehension floods my veins, her alarm triggering something protective. But it’s not fear that stares back at me.
It’s goddamn attraction.
Living. Breathing. Fucking decimating.
I stop before her, close enough to see the pulse skipping wildly at her throat. To hear the rasp of her accelerating breaths.
This woman has stripped me of my talents. Made a mockery of my discipline. Pulled emotions from me like jagged shrapnel.
And I’d let her do it all over again.
