Page 130 of Lovely Venom

Something dark rolls through Cristian’s eyes as he shifts me in his lap, and somehow, I end up straddling him.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he murmurs. “Not ever.”

My default response would be to tell him it doesn’t matter because this doesn’t mean anything. But I think it’s pretty obvious to both of us that I wouldn’t be so upset about Tiffany if it weren’t…something.

“So are we still arguing?” I ask.

“You tell me.” His thumb ghosts over my lower lip, his gaze lingering there like he wants to kiss me.

A riot of butterflies erupt inside me, even though I swore I wouldn’t kiss him again. The fact that I’m even considering it makes me nervous, and I avert my gaze to focus on the buttons of his shirt.

“Look at me, gattina,” he orders softly.

“I can’t,” I protest.

“Why?”

“Because every time I look at you, I want you to fuck me.”

A dark laugh rumbles from his chest. “Is that a problem for you?”

Right now, the problem is that I feel how hard he is beneath me, and going without him this week has made me desperate. He smells so good, and his body is so warm, and his hands feel so possessive—I know I can’t resist him, even if it’s the best thing for me.

I haven’t forgotten what he said back at the club, but somehow, my brain has compartmentalized that as a problem for later.

“You gave me the silent treatment all week,” I complain.

His hands coast over my thighs and settle on my hips, grinding me down against him. “You said you wanted this to be over.”

“I know what I said.” I let out a tortured breath.

“Do you want me to walk away?” His voice takes on a gravelly edge, like he already knows that’s not an option.

I can’t bring myself to answer him, so I deflect.

“That’s not really fair.”

“Why?” He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in like he’s taking a hit.

“Because that...” I tilt my head back as I fight through the haze of pleasure. “You’ve got me all…drunk.”

“Hmm. So what should we do about it?” he asks.

“Go to my bed?”

I don’t know why it sounds like a question, but part of me still thinks he’ll reject me.

“You want me inside you, principessa?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

Approval rumbles low in his chest as he picks me up and carries me down the hall.

I don’t waste any time loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, and I realize as I paw at his clothes how much I missed this.

When I pause for a moment to stare at him, I’m certain he can read the emotion in my eyes.

I don’t know what he’s doing to me.