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Her breath hitches in her throat. “Ask him to pull over so you can fuck me,” she says in Italian.

It’s a ridiculous request. We’re still in the city. But I don’t call her out. I shake my head. “Later.”

A soft whine falls from her lips. “Matteo.”

“I can stop, if you prefer that.”

She shakes her head. That’s the last thing she wants.

I slip my hand under her dress.

I draw that line up her thigh again, slowly going to where she wants me and then where she needs me.

She keeps her lips pressed together, trying to stay quiet.

I tease her gently for a moment. Then I give her exactly what she needs.

She tugs at the leather seat as the pleasure builds inside her.

Her brow furrows. Her breath gets shallow.

I take her hand and place it on my thigh. “Take it out on me, diavolessa.”

She reaches for my chest instead. Undoes another button of my shirt. Finds the flesh of my shoulder with her palm, her fingertips, her nails.

She bites her lip as she digs her nails in my skin.

Harder—

Harder—

There. The jolt of pain sends my blood racing south. She’s almost there.

She’s almost undone.

It’s a beautiful sight.

“Look at me,” I say.

For one moment, she brings her eyes to mine. She holds my gaze as need spreads over her face.

Then her eyes flutter closed, and she's there, groaning as she comes on my hand.

All I want to do is have her again.

She's the ruthless woman who's claimed my thoughts for the last four years and the tender one who owned them before that.

And I'm in deep fucking shit.

Because what I really want right now isn't handcuffs around her wrists or her boss in a holding cell.

It's this.

And, yes, tonight I get to play this game with her. But I don’t know if I’ll see tomorrow.

And if I do, I don’t know if I have the strength to walk away.

JAMIE