Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATERINA
H aving relieved him of his suit jacket and settled him at the island with a bag of frozen peas to ice his shoulder, I’m distancing myself from Stefano and busying myself with the dustpan and brush. Trying to pretend it wasn’t insanely hot to see him burst through the door to come to my rescue. And seriously, does he own anything other than tailored shirts that fit him like they’re a second skin? “So, what you’re saying is you only have people on me to and from the hospital?” I’m trying my best to sound irritated that he’s in some way encroached on my independence, but it’s tricky when I’m flattered. I hate arriving home alone in the dark. Despite my fierce commitment to the idea that I don’t need a man to protect me, that doesn’t alter the fact that no woman feels safe on her own at night. It’s an inescapable fact.
“When they followed you home, they saw you bring something into the house, and I don’t know about you, but oversized boxes left on porches seem awfully suspicious, given we’re currently at war with the De Lucas.” He shifts uncomfortably on his stool, moving the makeshift icepack to a different part of his shoulder while I sink into a pit of mortification, because he’s entirely right. I know better than to trust this package was safe. I’d blame it on my insanely long day, but that’s really no excuse for my stupidity.
I’m not sure I’m ready to confess that to Stefano though.
I don’t say anything and continue to sweep up the floor, keeping my eyes cast down. Avoiding the giant white box on the counter, he’s been glaring at it since he sat down.
“Are we going to discuss this?” he pushes, flicking the side of the box, and I shrug. “Come on, Katerina. You told me he’d stopped.”
“And he had. This is new,” I say quietly. He’s not going to like this next bit, so instead of explaining, I fish the card out of the box and hand it to him. His face turns puce, and his neck flushes with rage. I mentally chastise my body for the reaction it has to his unhinged level of fury.
He doesn’t say a word to me, just pulls out his phone and starts barking through gritted teeth. “I need you to pick up a Danny Castello and deliver him to one of Etta’s ‘guest suites’.” There’s a brief pause before Stefano snaps, “This. Is. Your. Priority.”
He hangs up on what I assume is Marcus, his number two, and shoves his phone back in his pocket before steadying himself against the counter.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” I whisper, refusing to look up from the dustpan that’s resting, still full of glass, on the counter.
He moves around the island. “Stand up, Katerina.” I swallow hard at the tone of his voice. It’s commanding and indisputable and sends a flurry of need coursing through my body. I gasp when the soft pad of his index finger hooks under my jaw and demands I meet his gaze.
His irises are flecked with a kaleidoscope of blues that glimmer and shift under the muted lighting. It’s unfair how easily I can be trapped in his gaze. Any time I stare too long, it’s like I’m being pulled in by some kind of magnetic force.
“We did this your way. Now we’re going to do it mine.” His voice is so low I can feel the authority of his words vibrating in the air between us. “He needs to back the fuck off.”
I shift my weight as I clench my thighs together. For a moment I say nothing, but when his brow arches, it compels me to respond. I whisper, “Yes, Stefano.”
There’s a guttural rumble of approval that grates in the back of his throat as he savours my words. “Say that again.”
My body lights up. Revelling in the reaction I’m drawing from him. A smile pulls at my cheeks as I lean in, close enough to feel his breath feather across my face. “Yes, Stefano.”
I lean back, catching his pupils dilate, and I know I’m done for. His now dark orbs bore into mine, and it’s like I’m being claimed from the inside out.
Oh, I am so screwed.
Every cell in my body is screaming at me to throw caution to the wind and climb this man like a tree. I’m still arguing the pros and cons in my head when he moves.
His lips descend and there’s no stopping the desperate moan that escapes me as his tongue tangles with mine and we fight to steal the air from each other’s lungs. It’s wanton and passionate and about goddamn time.
He breaks the kiss, leaving me panting while he takes in our surroundings. He glares at the box of roses before letting out a little roar of frustration and hurls them off the counter to the floor. Wrapping his arms around my waist, drawing out a gasp of shock as he manhandles me on to the cold granite worktop. I let my legs fall open, eager to touch him as he steps forward, advancing on me like a predator.
The energy between us is electric. His hands grip my hips while mine claw at his chest, trying to burrow under his shirt. I lose myself in the rhythm of his tongue as it glides against mine. He tastes better than I remember, and as I struggle not to lose myself in the flavour of him, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. He smells of oak and amber and whiskey, and it seduces my senses. This is reckless and will only come back to bite me in the ass, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck.
Stefano’s hand traces a meandering path upwards. The pressure is faint, but every featherlight touch ignites a fire within me that flows through my veins and flourishes in my core. I moan when his fingers dance across my waist and trace the swell of my breasts. He doesn’t stop until his palm is firmly on the side of my neck, tilting my head until I’m at the angle he demands. It allows him to deepen the kiss, and I feel almost ravaged as his lips take what they need from me. The only thoughts in my head are ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘this is everything I’ve ever wanted’.
I stutter a little groan, both loving and hating how desperate his touches are making me feel. I flex my fingers and drag my nails down his back, which has the opposite effect to the one I want when he pulls back and I whine at the loss.
Stefano quirks a devilish smile at me as he lifts his arms and starts to unbutton his shirt. “If you’re going to use me as your personal scratch post, micetta , I might as well give you unrestricted access.”
Kitten. The nickname should make me bristle. It should feel like a bucket of cold water being thrown over me, dowsing any ember of arousal, but instead, I’m almost giddy.
“So thoughtful, Uncle Stef.”
The minute the words leave my mouth, his expression darkens. He reaches forwards and threads his fingers through the hair at the base of my scalp, gripping tightly, his eyes boring into mine. “Don’t ever call me that again. I’m not your fucking uncle.”
Despite how tightly he’s gripping my hair, there’s nothing aggressive about it. I don’t feel threatened in any way. I feel protected. I feel cherished. “What do you want me to call you?”
His face softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips along the slope of my neck in delicate kisses, his warm and reverent attentions chasing shivers across my skin. “You can call me anything but that.”
“I don’t think giving me that kind of leeway is a good idea, vecchietto. ”
He growls. “You’re playing with fire, micetta . Call me ‘old man’ again. I dare you.”
“So grouchy.”
“Keep pushing me and you’ll end up over my knee.”
“Do that and I’ll call you daddy while you spank me,” I practically purr. He flinches and I wonder if I’ve pushed my teasing too far, but then his mouth is on mine again and I’m overwhelmed by the hunger in his kiss. His cock presses against my core, and I resent every item of clothing I’m wearing.
He drags me off the counter, letting me drop to my feet before spinning me roughly. I let out a startled squeal, but it quickly turns into a moan when a firm hand at my back pushes me down onto the worktop. The marble surface is cold against my cheek and a sharp contrast to the heat radiating through my core. I couldn’t find the words to complain even if I wanted to. I’ve drawn out a side of Stefano I want to see so much more of.
I yelp when the full weight of his palm cracks across my ass.
“I warned you, kitten.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, drawing it out into a long and reverent whimper. Whether it’s how he’s manhandling me or the way the sharp sting is petering out into a blissful tingle, I already feel like I’m floating on a cloud of pleasure. Like this is what my body has been craving all along.
Leaning over me, Stefano strokes a slow trail up my spine before wrapping his hand over my collarbone and dragging me up against him. I instinctively turn to lace my arms around his neck and we meld together like I was always made to fit with him. He cups my ass and I jump up, wrapping my legs around him like a koala clinging to a tree. I’m a tall woman, and while I’m slim in the waist, no one could call me skinny. Any concerns I have that he won’t be able to carry me evaporate when he starts striding towards the stairs with ease.
I tilt my head into the crook of his neck and inhale the scent that has tortured me for years. His aftershave is heady and evokes images of wood panelled rooms and rich smoky bourbons. The latter enticing me to pull at his collar and nip at the column of his throat. I’m ravenous for him. We’ve denied each other for far too long.
“Keep that up and we’re not going to make it up the stairs.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I snarl. “I’ve wanted you for too long to give you a chance to change your mind.”
He stalls, and in a feat of strength, it’s hard not to be impressed as one hand leaves my ass and wraps around my throat, forcing me to pull back and look at him. “There’s no stopping this.”
I unfurl my legs, and he dips to let my feet touch the ground before walking me back against the wall, tipping my chin up to lock eyes with him.
“I’m done denying myself what I want above anything else.”
“Tell me. Say it out loud. I need to hear you say it.” My voice trembles and tears threaten to flood my lashes.
“I need you, Katerina,” he says, while running a thumb along my cheek. “Tell me you’ll let me have you?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him for how long, but there’s a corner of my heart that’s terrified I won’t like the answer. What if one night is all he can give me? I’ve spent years trying to bury the feelings I have for him and I think it would hurt more never to have had him, than to have to let him go. If I only get to have him tonight, then so be it.
“I’m yours.” The words escape from my lips before I can stop them. I take his hand in mine and lead him along the hallway to my room.
Whatever happens tomorrow, tonight he’s mine.