Chapter 20
Birdie
“I was thinking,” Lorenzo says as we step out of the shower, water still clinging to his chest, “that you should just move into my bedroom.”
We’ve been…seeing each other for a week now.
I snort before I can stop myself.
“Something funny, cara?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow like a man who’s never been denied a damn thing in his life.
I wrap the towel tighter around myself, ignoring the heat still simmering low in my belly from what we did in the shower.
“I think you’re forgetting a few things, old man.”
He crosses his arms, all dark-eyed challenge. “Enlighten me.”
“Your fiancée, for one.”
The words land like a slap, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Instead, his jaw tightens and he mutters, “I can handle Fran.”
I arch a brow. “Oh yeah? Because I have a feeling if she caught me in your bed, she wouldn’t exactly offer to make me breakfast. And I don’t blame her.”
He steps forward, close enough that I can smell the bergamot of his cologne under the heat of his skin. “You let me worry about her.”
“I do worry. Mostly about your judgment,” I say, lifting my chin. “You’re already risking a lot just being with me.”
He brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek, fingers trailing down to my jaw.
“And yet, here you are. In my arms. In my shower. In my life.”
His voice is low and steady, but there’s something underneath it that makes my chest tighten.
I could push him away. Remind him I didn’t sign up for mafia soap opera drama. But instead, I whisper, “Maybe you can convince me.”
He smirks. “Deal.”
And that smirk should be a warning sign. A bright red flag with flashing lights. But instead, it coils heat low in my stomach.
Lorenzo steps closer, and I feel the shift in the air between us, heavy with the kind of tension that makes it hard to think, let alone breathe. His gaze drops to my mouth for a beat, and then returns to my eyes.
“You don’t believe I can convince you?” he asks, voice silk over gravel.
I swallow. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” he says, eyes darkening. “You didn’t.”
He lifts his hand again, brushing the edge of the towel still tucked under my arms. I shiver, but I don’t pull away.
“You say I’m forgetting things, cara,” he murmurs, stepping behind me so his mouth is near my ear. “But I remember every moment. Every kiss. Every time I’ve had to stop myself from doing exactly what I did last night. And this morning. Twice.”
His hand comes to rest on my hip, his fingers splayed over the damp fabric.
“I’m not a man who regrets his decisions,” he continues, “but you make me want things I’ve spent a lifetime denying myself.”
I turn to face him, heart thudding in my chest. “What kind of things?”
He leans in, brushing his mouth against mine close enough to make me ache. “Dangerous ones.”
I exhale shakily, eyes locked on his. “Then maybe we’re both in trouble.”
His smile is wicked and full of promise.
“I can live with that,” he murmurs.
And then his mouth is on mine. It’s the kind of kiss that steals my breath, my sense, and every last ounce of restraint I thought I had.
My fingers curl arounds his shoulder, holding on as heat surges through me.
I’m already dizzy from him when he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips brushing mine.
“Get on the counter.”
I don’t even hesitate.
My legs move before my mind catches up, palms bracing on the cool marble as I lift myself onto it. He steps between my knees like the motion belongs to him, like I belong to him, and the bathroom suddenly feels too small to contain the crackling electricity between us.
I’m sure the mirror behind us reflects it all. His dark, hungry gaze. My flushed mouth. The way his hands settle on my hips like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
I’ve never been the type to enjoy… certain things. Oral, in particular, was always something I could take or leave. Mostly leave. But Lorenzo—My god, Lorenzo makes me love it.
The way he looks at me before he lowers his mouth.
The way his hands anchor me, as if he expects me to fly apart.
The way every brush of his tongue is deliberate and controlled, designed to unravel me piece by piece.
It’s intoxicating and nothing like anything I’ve known.
The first swipe of his tongue has me gasping. I’m a bit sensitive from what we did earlier, but I don’t tell him to stop. No, I throw my legs over his shoulders and when he hits that spot that feels so good, I grip his hair, urging him on.
He lifts his head just a fraction, lips glistening, breath warm against my skin.
“You taste better than anything I’ve ever touched, cara.”
A shiver rolls through me. His voice is deep and rough and slides down my spine like a promise.
He leans in again and eats me out like I’m his last meal. My gasps and moans fill the room, and it seems to fuel him on.
“I’m so close,” I pant.
A tug of my clit with his teeth sends me over, and I cry out his name as my orgasm rolls over me, wave after pleasurable wave. Before I’ve even come down from the high, his hands slide up my thighs, deliberate and sure, and the look in his eyes… it’s enough to make the whole room tilt.
“Come here,” he murmurs as he pulls me to the edge of the counter.
My legs wrap around his waist, and he presses into me, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that feels like fire and fate all at once.
The heat between us spikes fast and consuming.
He kisses me like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my soul.
Deep. Hungry. His thumb strokes my jaw, tender in a way that contradicts the intensity building in his body as he rocks into me.
Every part of him surrounds me, presses into me, claims me.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers against my lips, breath unsteady.
“I do,” I breathe. “I want you.”
That’s all it takes.
He moves with a control that’s nothing short of lethal. Slow enough to savor but strong enough to undo me. The mirror at my back vibrates with every shift of his body, every deep, consuming motion, and all I can do is cling to him. Cling to his shoulders, his hair, his breath.
He kisses down my throat, his voice a low growl against my skin. “I’ll give you everything, cara. Everything.”
A soft cry escapes me, my head falling back against the glass, fingers gripping him tighter as heat spreads through me like molten gold. His hands hold me firm and steady, anchoring me through every rising wave.
The world narrows to the sound of our breathing.
The heat of his mouth.
The way his forehead presses to mine like he needs me as much as I need him.
“Lorenzo,” I whisper, almost a prayer.
He lifts his head, eyes burning into mine. “I’ve got you,” he says, voice shaking with the force of it. “I’m right here.”
“Please.”
“Please what? Give you my cum? Put a baby in you?”
I nod. “Yes. All of it.”
He rocks harder, hitting that spot that makes my entire body quiver. Filthy words are whispered into my ear as we fall apart together.
He holds me afterward, his breathing uneven, his lips brushing my temple like he’s grounding himself on my skin.
“This,” he murmurs, voice raw. “This is never going to be enough.”
And God help me— I feel the same.
After a long moment, he nods to the counter where my birth control case sits. My breath is still thin, my skin still humming from him as he reaches over, lifting the case.
“Time for this,” he murmurs, voice still rough from what we just did.
Still inside of me, he pushes a pill out, letting it drop into his palm.
“Open,” he says gently.
I do and his fingers brush my lower lip as he places the pill on my tongue. His gaze never leaves mine as I swallow.
“Good girl,” he says—low and quiet, approval wrapped in something darker.
The praise sends a shiver through me. I try to hide it. I fail.
His eyes darken.
He steps closer, tilting my chin up with two fingers. “Come here.”
The kiss he gives me isn’t ravenous like before. It’s slow. Lingering. His lips move against mine with a tenderness that is somehow more dangerous than the hunger earlier.
“You taste like me,” he murmurs against my mouth. “And your pill. I like both.”
A flush rises up my throat. Before I can answer he brushes a thumb across my bottom lip, then pulls away, clearing his throat like he’s just remembered something.
“Get dressed,” he says, voice low. “I’m taking you out to breakfast.”
I blink. “Like… out out?”
He nods once, pulling out of me. “You’ll need your coat.”
Our juices drip out of me, making my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.
“And another shower.”
“No. I want you to walk out there, full of me.”
If possible, my face flames even more. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he echoes with a smile. “Now, get dressed.”
He pads out of the bathroom leaving me there, smiling like a fool.
It’s not until I’m tugging on my blue sweater dress and boots that it hits me. He’s never taken me anywhere. Is this a date?
Downstairs, he’s already waiting, scrolling something on his phone. The guards by the elevator look surprised when he tells them we won’t need the usual detail. I shoot him a look, but he smiles.
Outside, it’s cold, but clear. The sun glints off frost-covered buildings, and for a moment, I almost feel normal. Just a girl on a date with a guy.
We eat at a corner café where no one seems to recognize him. I wrap my hands around a mug of cocoa, letting the warmth seep into me as he studies me from across the table like I’m the most fascinating puzzle he’s ever tried to solve.
“You’re quiet,” I say.
He sets down his fork. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
He leans back, arms folding casually across his chest. “Taking you out of the penthouse.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want you to have freedom again. Not just guarded hallways and guest rooms.” His eyes are steady. “I want you with me.”
“With you where?”
He shrugs slightly. “In the city. On my arm. Where people can see you. No more secrets.”
My breath catches. “That’s a big change.”