For one endless second, Leo just stared at me. Then his eyes dropped helplessly to my mouth again. The tension between us became unbearable.
His lips hovered just above mine now. Not kissing. Almost. Close enough that every breath felt shared. Close enough that I could feel the heat pouring from his skin into mine, hot enough to make my entire body ache. I wanted him so badly it hurt. And judging by the way Leo was shaking slightly above me, barely holding himself back, he wanted me just as much.
The room felt suffocatingly warm now, moonlight spilling silver across tangled black sheets while the city glowed faintly beyond the windows. Everything smelled like him. Danger.
My fingers curled tighter against his tattooed arm, tracing hard muscle beneath heated skin. Leo’s breathing hitched at the contact. That tiny reaction made something reckless unfurl inside me.
“You’re still holding back,” I whispered.
His jaw flexed violently. “Chiara…”
“You said you wanted me,” I whimpered.
“I do.” The words came out rough. Immediate. Honest enough to make my stomach twist.
“Then why won’t you touch me?”
Leo shut his eyes briefly like the question physically hurt him. Because he was losing control. I could feel it now.
In the tension vibrating through his body. In the way his hands kept flexing against the mattress beside my head like he was trying not to grab me harder. In the roughness creeping deeper and deeper into his voice every time he spoke. When he opened his eyes again, they looked almost black.
“You really want an answer to that?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
His gaze dragged slowly over my face. “You’re too fucking innocent.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. “I’m not innocent anymore. You made sure of it. So take more, like you already said you did.”
The second the words left my mouth, Leo made a low sound in his throat that nearly melted me into the mattress. “Jesus Christ.”
The room somehow got even hotter. His forehead dropped briefly against mine while he inhaled sharply through his nose like he was trying to steady himself. “You have no idea what hearing you say things like that does to me.”
I swallowed hard. “Then tell me.”
“You want honesty?” His voice lowered dangerously. “Fine.”
His hand slid down my waist deliberately, fingers spreading wider against my hip now. The touch alone made my breath catch.
“Every time you walk around this penthouse wearing my clothes,” he said roughly, “I think about bending you over the nearest fucking surface.”
Heat exploded through me. Leo watched every reaction flash across my face. Every breath. Every shiver. Every tiny movement of my body beneath his.
“And every time you look at me with those big blue eyes,” he continued darkly, “I picture exactly what you’d look like beneath me, begging me not to stop.”
My thighs pressed together helplessly beneath the sheets. Leo noticed. A rough curse in Italian escaped him.
“See?” His voice sounded strained now. “We both know you want it. But you’re not ready.”
I could barely breathe anymore. Everything inside me felt hot and shaky and desperate for him.
“Please just touch me,” I whispered again.
His eyes shut hard. “No.”
The refusal sounded tortured this time.
“Why?” I whispered helplessly.
