I heard her breath hitch. A tiny, shaky inhale. Good.
“Open the door,” I repeated, softer now, but no less demanding. “I’m not asking.”
A long pause. Then the lock clicked.
The door cracked open. Just enough for me to see one eye, dark and wary, peeking through the gap. She was bracing herself, one hand on the frame, ready to slam it again.
I didn’t give her the chance.
I pushed. Not hard—just enough to make her stumble back a step. I slipped inside, kicked the door shut behind me, and crowded her against the nearest wall before she could blink.
My body pinned her. My hands landed on either side of her head, caging her in. My hips pressed against her stomach, trapping her between the cold plaster and the heat of me.
Her eyes went wide. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
“Lorenzo—”
“Shut up.” I leaned in, my mouth hovering a millimeter from her ear. “You think you can lock me out? You think a door can keep me away?”
She trembled. I felt it—the vibration running through her, the way her thighs pressed together, the tiny whimper she tried to swallow.
“You’re shaking,” I murmured, dragging my lips down the side of her neck. “But it’s not fear, is it, Tesoro? It’s want, need. Your body knows what your mouth won’t admit.”
Her hands came up to push at my chest. Weak. Pathetic.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“I’ll scream.”
“Scream.” I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, letting her see the dark, hungry thing swimming in mine. “Scream loud enough for the whole building to hear. Let them know whoyou belong to. Let them know that Lorenzo Falcone has finally claimed his wife.”
Her lips parted. Her breath stuttered.
I reached down, grabbed her wrist, and pinned it above her head. Then the other. She struggled—a half-hearted twist—but I was stronger, bigger, and I wanted her to feel it.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice a low, possessive rasp. “I don’t care that you don’t trust me yet. I don’t care that you think I’m crazy. You’re mine. And I will spend every fucking day proving it—chasing you, breaking down your walls, and burying myself so deep inside your life that you won’t remember a time before me.”
Her eyes glistened. Not tears. Something fiercer.
“You can’t just?—”
“I can. I did.” I released her wrists, but only to cup her face, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at me. “And you’re going to stop running. You’re going to stop slamming doors in my face. Because the next time you do, I won’t wait outside. I’ll break the damn door down.”
I brushed my thumb across her lower lip. She shivered.
“I want to own you, Zara.” The words fell out, raw and honest. “Every thought. Every breath. Every inch of that gorgeous body. I want to fuck you until you forget your own name, until the only thing you remember is mine.”
Her pupils blew wide.
“And I’ll be patient,” I added, leaning in until our lips almost touched. “I’ll wait. I’ll earn your trust. Be the man you deserve. But make no mistake—you’re already mine. You’ve been mine since the moment I saw you.”
I kissed her.
A claim, not a request.
My tongue slid against hers, tasting her surprise, her resistance crumbling as she moaned into my mouth—a soft,helpless sound—that I felt in my cock, in my bones, in the primal part of me that wanted to take her right there, against the wall, marking her as property.
