Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lorenzo
She doesn't run.
Instead, she reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. The afternoon light streaming through the window catches on her skin, turning it golden. My mouth goes dry.
"I'm not running," she says, tossing the shirt aside. "Not from you."
Every muscle in my body coils tight. I'm already hard, have been since I walked into this room and saw defiance blazing in those honey-brown eyes.
Now, watching her stand there in just jeans and a black bra, her chin tilted up in challenge, I'm fighting every instinct screaming at me to take her against the wall.
"Sophia." Her name comes out rough, barely human.
"What?" She reaches for the button of her jeans. "You said this was my last chance. I'm showing you my choice."
The denim slides down her legs, and I stop breathing. Black lace. Of course it's black lace. She kicks the jeans aside and stands there, waiting.
"Come here," I order.
She shakes her head. "You come here."
The last thread of my control doesn't just snap. It incinerates. I cross the space between us in two strides, my hands tangling in her hair before she can speak. When I kiss her this time, it's different. This isn't about possession or proving a point. This is about need so desperate it hurts.
My hands slide from her hair down her back, fingertips tracing her spine until she arches against me. The soft sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
"Oh God," she gasps when I move to her throat, biting down where her pulse hammers against my tongue.
"What did I tell you about saying other men's names?" I growl against her skin.
Her laugh is breathless. "You're impossible."
"And you're mine." I grip her hips, lifting her. Her legs wrap around my waist immediately, and I turn us, pressing her back against the wall. "Say it."
"Yours," she breathes, then bites my earlobe. "But you're mine too."
My hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through the lace. She rocks against me, and I see stars.
"Bed," I manage, though moving means not touching her for seconds I can't spare.
"Wall works," she counters, fingers working at my belt.
"No." I carry her to the bed, setting her on the edge. "I'm doing this right."
"Since when do you do anything right?" But her eyes are soft, understanding what I mean.
I kneel between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs. "Since you."
The words hang between us, too honest, too raw. Before she can respond, I lean forward, pressing my mouth to the inside of her thigh. She jumps, hands flying to my hair.
Her breath catches. Slowly, she lies back, trust in every line of her body.
I take my time, kissing up one thigh, then the other, until she's squirming. When I finally press my mouth to her through the lace, she cries out, back arching off the bed.
"Please," she gasps.
"Please what?" I pull the lace aside but don't touch her yet.
"Please, I need—" She breaks off on a moan when I finally taste her properly.
"Così perfetta," I murmur against her. So perfect. "Così dolce." So sweet.
Her hands tighten in my hair as I work her with my tongue. When I slide two fingers inside her, she nearly comes off the bed.
Sophia
His mouth on me is everything and not enough. My hands tangle in his dark hair as he works me with his tongue, and I can't stop the sounds spilling from my throat.
"Lorenzo, please—" I gasp when he adds another finger, curling them inside me.
He pulls back just enough to look up at me, his brown eyes nearly black. "Please what, tesoro?"
"I need you inside me."
"You have me inside you." He demonstrates by thrusting his fingers deeper, making me cry out.
"You know what I mean."
He stands slowly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact. His shirt comes off first, revealing the lean muscle I've memorized with my hands but never get tired of seeing. When he reaches for his belt, I sit up.
"Let me."
My fingers shake as I work the buckle. He's so hard I can see the outline through his pants, and my mouth waters. When I finally free him, he groans.
"Sophia—"
I wrap my hand around him, stroking once, twice, before he grabs my wrist.
"Not yet," he says roughly. "Lie back."
I do, scooting up the bed. He follows, covering my body with his. The weight of him, the heat makes me feel safe and wild at the same time.
He positions himself at my entrance, then pauses. "Look at me."
I meet his eyes as he pushes inside, slow and steady. The stretch burns in the best way, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.
"Fuck," he breathes against my neck. "You feel incredible."
He starts to move, each thrust deliberate and deep. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and we both moan.
"Harder," I beg.
His next thrust is rougher, deeper, and I cry out in pleasure.
"Like that?"
"Yes, God, yes."
His pace becomes punishing, perfect. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust. I want them to hear. I want everyone to know I'm his and he's mine.
"Touch yourself," he commands, voice strained. "I want to watch you come."
My hand slides between us, finding my clit. The combination of my fingers and his cock has me racing toward the edge embarrassingly fast.
"That's it," he encourages, watching my face. "Let go for me, tesoro."
"Lorenzo, I'm—"
His thrusts become erratic. "Come for me. Now."
The command tips me over. I shatter around him, my vision going white as waves of pleasure crash through me. I hear myself screaming his name, feel him follow me over, his groan muffled against my throat as he empties himself inside me.
We stay like that for long moments, both panting, neither willing to move. Finally, he lifts his head to look at me.
"You're shaking," he observes, concern creeping into his voice.
"Good shaking," I assure him, running my fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Very good shaking."
He kisses me softly, tenderly, such a contrast to moments before. When he pulls out, I whimper at the loss.
"Stay," I whisper when he starts to move away.
"Just getting something to clean you up."
He returns with a warm washcloth, taking care of me with a gentleness that makes my chest tight. When he's done, he tosses it aside and pulls me against him, my back to his chest.
Lorenzo's phone buzzes on the nightstand, breaking the peaceful silence. He reaches for it without letting go of me, his other arm still wrapped around my waist.
"Shit," he mutters, his entire body tensing against mine.
I turn in his arms to face him. "What is it?"
His jaw works as he reads the message again. "We have a leak."
"What kind of leak?"
"The kind that gets people killed." He sits up, running a hand through his hair. "Nico just intercepted communications. Someone inside our organization has been feeding information to the Russians."
He's already buckling his belt, transforming from my lover back into the dangerous man. The change happens so fast it makes my head spin.