His thumb traces my spine, and I feel him leaning closer, his breath warm against my lips.
“And all I could think was…like this, she can’t run away from me.”
My breath catches.
“I sat there on my bike, watching you through my visor, and I got so hard.” His voice has dropped to something molten. “You were crying and helpless, and I thought about what it would be like to pick you up and carry you somewhere private. Somewhere no one would ever find us.”
His hand presses flat against my lower back, pulling me closer.
“You couldn’t fight me. Couldn’t flee. Couldn’t do anything but let me do whatever I wanted to you.” He exhales against my ear, and I can hear the arousal thickening his voice. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Mina? Seeing you like that? Knowing you were mine for the taking?”
“Cristiano—”
“I wanted to strip you bare right there in the street.” His lips brush my temple, barely a touch, but it sends heat flooding through me. “I wanted to spread your legs and bury myself inside you while you were still crying. I wanted to fuck you until the only thing you could feel was me.”
I should be horrified. I should be backing toward the elevator.
Instead, my thighs press together, and I’m leaning into him like I can’t help myself.
“I thought about keeping you.” His forehead drops to mine, his amber eyes burning into me. “Carrying you somewhere you could never escape. Making you completely dependent on me, for food, for comfort, for pleasure. Until you stopped fighting. Until you forgot there was ever a world outside the one I made for you.”
“That’s insane,” I whisper.
“Yes.” His lips curve into something that’s almost a smile. “And then I took off my helmet, and I was so gentle. So concerned. The perfect rescuer.” His thumb strokes my hip, possessive. “I carried you on my bike and you melted into me. Wrapped your arms around my waist like you belonged there. And later, in your bedroom, I had you underneath me, exactly where I wanted you.”
His eyes are dark with heat now, reliving it.
“That whole rescue, the ice pack, the snow globe, your first time, it was perfect. And you gave yourself to me so sweetly, Mina. You scratched my back and moaned my name and told me you were mine.” He brushes his lips against the corner of my mouth. “That was the best day of my life.”
My heart is slamming against my ribs.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “I have no regrets about any of it. I’d do it all again. Every single moment.” He pauses. “Except one thing. I would kill my father in secret. That was my only mistake.”
He’s a monster. He’s standing here telling me exactly what he is, every dark, twisted fantasy, every calculated manipulation, and I should be running for the elevator. Screaming for help. Doing anything other than standing here with my nipples hard and my underwear soaked, breathing in the scent of him.
“You’re fucking crazy,” I whisper.
“Yes.” He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t apologize. “I am.”
I grab his shirt and pull his mouth down to mine.
The kiss is ravenous. Five years of fury and longing and denial combusting between us. His mouth claims mine like he’s been starving for it, his tongue stroking against mine, his hands fisting in my hair to tilt my head back and take more.
I’m drowning in him. In the taste of him. The heat of him. In the solid wall of his body pressing me backward. My fingers tear at his shirt, desperate to feel skin, and buttons scatter across the marble floor.
“Mina.” He groans my name against my lips like a curse. “Fuck, Mina, I’ve missed you.”
“Shut up.” I don’t want words. I don’t want to think. I just want his hands on me, his mouth on me, the oblivion of wanting and being wanted.
He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, the rough fabric of his trousers pressing against my sex. The friction makes me gasp, and he swallows the sound, kissing me deeper, his hands gripping my thighs.
“I’ve thought about this every night.” He’s walking us somewhere, his mouth never leaving mine. “Every single night for five years. Dreaming about you. Waking up hard and aching and alone.”
“I said shut up.”
“No.” He bites my lower lip, and the sting sends heat flooding through me. “I’ve been silent for five years. Tonight you’re going to hear every filthy thing I have to say to you.”
My back hits the cold glass window.
