Chapter 12
12
GIANNA
I moan in surprise as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, the rough sensation of the soft muscle dragging up the roof so hot it sends goosebumps all over my body. My core clenches, liquid warmth pooling between my thighs.
I don’t hold back.
Twining my arms around his neck, I return his kiss with equal fervor. It’s hot, wet , and erotic. His fingers tighten in my hair before one hand slides down, searing a path down my neck to mold around my tit.
My nipples perk up, hardening instantly, and he groans into the kiss like he feels it too. Then he finds one, catching the sensitive peak between his thumb and index finger, and— oh, fuck —a white-hot jolt of pleasure zips through my veins. My head knocks back against the wall so hard, our kiss breaks with an audible smack.
We pant, foreheads nearly touching, breaths mingling as we stare at each other.
His lips are glistening, stained a little red from my lipstick, and his eyes—a very vivid blue now—are so intense. This close, I can see tiny green flecks circling his pupils, making them even more mesmerizing.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe, slowly raising my right hand.
His eyes flicker to it, his expression shifting to something wary, cautious. Then, just as my fingers are about to brush his cheek?—
He steps back.
And just like that, the warmth, the fire, the dizzying effect of him—all of it is ripped away. I swallow hard when he takes even more steps away from me, his brows furrowing in adorable confusion. “What was that?”
I lick my lips, still feeling aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through my core and clit from just that one kiss. My thighs press together involuntarily. I’ve read about this kind of insane chemistry before, in all the smutty books I’ve devoured over the years. But I never really believed it. Now, though? Now I understand.
And God help me—I want more, and more, and more .
“We kissed.” My voice is so husky, it drags his gaze to my lips, and I make a show of wetting them sexily, enjoying the way his throat bobs. His eyes fly to mine, and I add, “Or more accurately, you kissed me .”
He rakes a hand through his hair, looking so lost it almost has me grinning. For a second, I think he might say something, acknowledge whatever the hell just happened between us….
Then he turns away from me.
Running. Again .
Oh, no, you don’t.
I didn’t think my little seduction plan would work, not really—not this soon, anyway.
After eating earlier, I remembered the little waterproof makeup kit in my backpack and went up to check if it was still intact. Then I swiped on some eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. That’s literally all I did, and he mauled me like a starving wolf catching his first meal.
A satisfied smile curves my lips as I smooth my hair back. This is going to be so much easier than I thought.
Honestly, I should have changed out of his clothes first, but I was in a bit of a hurry—the makeup took longer than I expected. I glance down at the drab shirt swallowing me whole and his baggy boxer shorts underneath hanging loose on my hips. Not exactly seductive attire.
That didn’t stop him from kissing the hell out of me, though.
Still, I can do better.
Gathering the hem of the shirt, I tug it up just below my boobs and knot it, exposing my belly button. There. That should do the trick , I nod to myself, then slide the hair tie from my wrist and quickly pull my hair up into a calculated messy ponytail before hurrying after him.
I catch up to him just as he goes into the living room. He suddenly stops, and I slow, following his gaze to the dining area where he’s staring at the food with an almost comical look of confusion.
I bite my lip, holding back a giggle. My initial plan was to invite him down for dinner, then seduce him slowly while he ate.
Guess that plan’s out the window.
I step forward, my voice sweet but purposeful. “You didn’t eat when I did earlier, and you spent so long locked up in that room, I figured you might be hungry.”
“I’m not hungry,” he snaps, but his stomach growls, immediately calling out his lie. He glares at me, daring me to say something. Instead, I take his hand, shuddering at the sparks of fire that travel through me.
He goes rigid, but I don’t let it deter me. “Come on,” I coax, giving his hand a little tug. “I went through the effort of heating the food up and plating it. Even if you’re not hungry, you should at least take a few bites to appreciate my hard work.”
His head turns towards me slowly, almost like he’s afraid to look. I smile up at him prettily and take a strategic step back, just enough to draw his attention to my shirt. His gaze drops to my bare midriff, and he inhales sharply.
Gotcha.
I use his distraction to guide him to the table. He follows without resistance.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I heated up a little of everything in the freezer. They’re all my favorites, and I have excellent taste, so I’m confident you’ll like them too.” I urge him to sit with a gentle push, then slide a plate towards him. As I round the table to take my own seat across from him, I move with an easy sway, making sure he catches every movement.
Minutes pass in charged silence as he stares at me, like I’m some sort of world wonder he’s just seeing for the first time. The heat in the room becomes suffocating, my cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.
What is he thinking? Is he onto my tricks?
To break the tension, I lean forward to pick up the fork in front of him and gather some lasagna onto it. His unwavering attention makes my nipples—still sensitive from his touch earlier—tighten almost painfully as I lift the food to his mouth.
He grabs my wrist, and my heart slams into my throat. But his voice is soft when he asks, “What the hell are you doing, dove?”
“You need to eat.” I try to sound confident, but my voice comes out weak and my wrist trembles slightly under his grip. Not because I’m scared of him, no. But because for some reason, I’m getting worked up.
I shift on my chair, trying to distract myself from my dampening panties.
He narrows his gaze on me. “You’re playing with fire, Gianna, and if you’re not careful, you’re going to get burned.” His words are cold, but his eyes—they’re like the fiery pits of hell. And I want to get burned by that fire. Badly .
He takes the fork from me and starts eating through the food I set on the table for him, one plate after another. But I don’t let up. Through it all, I try to move seductively across from him. Taking my hair out of the ponytail in that sexy, cinematic way I’ve seen women do in the movies, tilting my neck this way and that to highlight the curve of my skin.
The pendant of my mom’s necklace sways gently from my wrist as I shift, catching the light.
Outwardly, he remains stoic, focused on the food, but I notice the slight darkening of his eyes, the subtle drop of his lashes as they hood over his gaze. I’m getting to him.
Power surges through my veins, making me lightheaded at the thought that I can seduce this strong, powerful man—reduce him to putty—just with a little skin and a few teasing touches. I’ve never been more aware of my own feminine wiles, and damn, it feels good .
I trail my fingertips down my neck, stopping at the first button of the shirt. Michael’s eyes become dangerous slits, and I can almost read the dare in them. He thinks I won’t do it.
I smirk. Watch me.
I flick the first button open. Then the second.
Michael grabs a glass of water and gulps it—just as I undo the third, exposing the swell of my breasts. He chokes mid-swallow, immediately dropping the glass as he dissolves into a coughing fit.
I jump up from my chair, startled. Holy shit, I didn’t mean to actually kill him. That would be a hell of a mood killer.
I rush around the table, ready to slap his back. “It’s okay, you’re–” My words die in my throat when he suddenly grabs me by the waist and yanks me into his lap—right onto the thick, unrelenting length of his cock.
A sharp gasp rips from me, my eyes widening as my fingers clutch his shoulder for balance. The bastard tricked me.
And fuck me, my body loves it. More wetness leaks out of me, and my thighs press together on instinct. The way he maneuvered me so easily was so hot.
“Why are you surprised, dove?” His voice is a deep rasp, his breath warm against my cheek. “Isn’t this the result you were hoping to achieve?”
Heat rushes to my face. I squirm in his lap, dropping my forehead against his neck to hide my blush. “N–no. I was just trying to thank you for saving me by feeding you.”
“Little liar.” His palm wraps around my neck, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. Those blue eyes—piercing, unwavering—holding me captive. “You wanted this.”
His other hand skims up my bare thigh, rough calluses leaving streaks of fire in their wake as his fingers climb higher and higher.
My lips part in a soft moan, head lolling back weightlessly, his grip on the back of my neck the only thing holding me up. He leans in, his hot breath fanning the top of my lip, teasing me, taunting me. I tilt towards him, aching for the drugging pleasure of his kiss, my body trembling with anticipation.
And then, just as his lips brush mine, my eyes slam shut, pulse thundering so loudly in my ears, it deafens me as he drags his tongue across my bottom lip, tasting me without truly kissing me. My lips part even wider, and he chuckles. The asshole.
“You’re so hungry for me.”
I would argue, but before I can, he moves. His lips trail from my cheek to my neck, and I whimper, adjusting myself in his lap—twisting in a way I didn’t realize I could until I’m straddling him, my needy cunt settling right over the wide tip of his cock through our clothes.
We groan at the same time as I grind down on him, my hips shifting, chasing friction. But his hold on my neck tightens, and the hand on my thigh flies up, fingers digging into my waist in an attempt to keep me still. His grip is so unyielding, so possessive, that the bite of pain only stokes the fire of my lust.
“Shh, careful, little phoenix, or you might burn yourself to ashes.” His voice is so guttural, his accent so thick, I almost don’t recognize what he’s saying. But I don’t care. My body is burning up, my brain hazy with lust, more arousal coating my thighs as my clit pulses. All I know is that I want—no, I need to cum.
I press down against his cock again, trying to find my own pleasure if he’s not going to give it to me. But then his second hand leaves my neck, both gripping my waist now, effectively locking me in place.
“ Michael, ” I whine.
He chuckles, that deep, rumbling sound driving me crazy as he kisses up the shell of my ear, slow, teasing, dragging out the moment. And then—without any warning—he bites down on the sensitive flesh. Hard.
A jolt of shock runs through me, and I can’t help but gasp, my eyes flying open, startled. Our gazes collide, and it’s like looking into the sky right before a heavy storm—charged, violent, crackling with a tension I can feel deep in my bones.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, caught in this electrifying silence. My pulse is erratic, my breathing shallow. God, this man . I didn’t think it was possible to feel this much heat, this hunger, just from a look. But wow, here it is, wrapping around my senses, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.
And I know, without a doubt, that whatever comes next, I won’t be able to resist it.
“Unless you want me to fuck you right here and now, Gianna... Get off my lap,” he says, slowly releasing his grip on my waist, one finger at a time, his expression pained.
But that’s exactly what I want.
I grab him on both sides of his skull, my fingertips tracing the smooth skin of his scalp. He shudders beneath me, the tremor running through his body as I pull him closer. And without hesitation, I lower my head and crash my lips into his, our teeth clashing from the force.
He groans, his hands coming back up to my waist, and I slowly, deliberately roll my hip over him, seeking the pressure of the tip of his cock against my clit. “Fucking hell, Gianna!” He rips his lips from mine as his head falls back against the chair.
“Do you get it now?” I ask, my voice husky, barely able to keep control.
His head lifts lazily, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “Yes,” he purrs, his chest rumbling with satisfaction as his hands slide from my waist to firmly cup my ass. “I do.”
I squeal as he rises fluidly to his feet. My hands instinctively wrap around the back of his head to steady myself, but there’s no need for that. He simply bends over, swipes the plates off the dining table, and places me on it.
My back barely touches the surface before his palm presses against my sternum, pushing me flat. “It’s time for my dessert,” he growls, getting back to his seat. Then his hands hook into the waistband of my shorts and start to pull them down?—
A shrill alarm splits the air moments before water rains from the ceiling, drenching us.
“Fuck!” Michael curses, quickly pushing his seat back away from me and jumping to his feet. Shaking water from his hair, he rushes towards the kitchen.
The fucking dessert—the actual dessert —I forgot in the oven must have gotten burned.
The alarm stops but I stay where I am, worked up as fuck, barely resisting the urge to rub my thighs together, hoping he’ll come back and continue where we stopped.
But when he returns, he says, “I need to go turn off the water.” And he does not look amused.
A frustrated groan catches in my throat. And as he walks away, tiny tears of regret leak from the corners of my eyes, mixing with the water dripping from the faucets in the ceiling.
Because I know that’s the end of this little interlude.