Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I woke up in the hammock, teeth clattering from the cold. I immediately knew I was alone. Where was Vince? How could I have missed him leaving?
I blinked my eyes open, squinted at the pale light filtering through the cloudy sky, then stared at the last glimmering embers of the fire.
No wonder I was freezing.
I sat up with a groan and shivered as I struggled out of the hammock. As soon as my feet hit the chilly concrete, I hissed and hurried inside.
As I entered the apartment, I considered heading straight for Vince’s bed, but curiosity won over warmth. Where did he go? And why was it bothering me so much that he left me alone?
Wasn’t I the one who stated nothing had changed between us?
Then why did I feel as if everything had changed?
I tiptoed through the quiet apartment and let my fingers run along the polished concrete walls.
The last time I was in his apartment, I wasn’t really in the condition to take a good look around apart from his bedroom and his sister’s room.
I barely got the chance to get an undisturbed glimpse into Vince’s world.
The apartment was actually huge, with an open-plan kitchen and living room. His bedroom was the first room to the right, so I turned right, away from the living room, and followed the corridor. The door next to Vince’s bedroom was his sister’s, so I skipped that one and focused instead on the doors on the opposite side. The first two rooms looked like standard hotel rooms and appeared unused like guest rooms that hadn’t seen visitors in ages, if ever.
The next door I opened made me stop and step inside. The room was stark white—white walls and a white floor apart from the one wall that consisted of a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows. A white table held art supplies, and a single easel with a blank canvas on it sat in the middle of the room, yet it didn’t seem like anyone had ever used it. Maybe Vince’s sisters had set it up, intending to paint but never finding the time.
Vince’s sister, aka Isabella Salvini, aka Iset.
Damn. Would she have news about our situation? Did she try to contact me already?
Did I leave my phone in Vince’s car?
I needed to find him and get it.
I exited the room, turned left, and followed the corridor until I came across an open door and peeked inside. Vince’s office was sleek and modern with a dark grey design and abundant plants giving the space an almost outdoorsy feeling.
Totally not what I’d expected at all.
Something told me Vince would be equally comfortable and at home in a mountain cabin in the wilderness as he was here.
I rounded a plant and froze. Vince was slumped over his desk, his back rising and falling with each quiet breath.
My heart stuttered at the sight of him. I crept closer, biting my lip to hold my breath.
The beam of light from the small desk lamp illuminated the fine lines on Vince’s face. He looked almost soft in sleep, the harsh lines on his face relaxed for once. My fingers twitched with the urge to brush away the unruly strands of hair from his forehead.
His vulnerability tugged at something deep within me.
Who was the real Vincenzo Salvini?
I took another step and leaned closer as I tried to reconcile this peaceful vision with the ruthless man I knew he was. But as I leaned over his desk, something else caught my eye.
I froze and stared down at the sheet of paper beneath Vince’s cheek.
My face and my eyes were staring back at me.
The attention to detail was astonishing; it was as if I was staring at a black-and-white photo of myself.
The rest of the pencil drawing was partially hidden beneath his face, but it didn’t take much fantasy to know it was my nude body in the style of those famous old Roman statues.
Holy shit. Even my body was spot-on. He’d captured my very essence on paper.
Who knew that beneath the hardened exterior of a Mafia boss there existed such raw artistic talent?
I carefully grabbed the edge of the paper and slowly pulled. I needed to see the whole thing. Needed to see how he saw me.
I’d barely moved it when his hand darted out and clamped around my wrist.
I froze, my heartbeat pounding as his eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?”
“Me?” I arched a brow, acutely aware of his grip on my arm. “What have you done?”
He straightened with a scowl. “What now? Are you cranky because you’re hung over?”
I narrowed my eyes and glared at him, then shook my head. “I should’ve slit your throat when I had the chance,” I said.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he yanked me closer.
I squeaked in protest and glared at him.
“Careful, or I might get the wrong idea,” he whispered.
I narrowed my brows. “And what idea would that be?”
“That you’re as obsessed with me as I am with you,” he said.
I stared at him. Speechless.
He raised a single brow and then winked at me.
And I almost choked on my tongue. Was Vince Salvini really openly flirting with me?
For a hot minute, I imagined how it would feel if he pulled me onto his lap, how his hands would feel against my skin. I shuddered.
Which was met by his sharp hiss followed by a growl. “What was that thought?”
Damn. Mind out of the gutter. I needed a change of topic. Fast. I didn’t answer his question and avoided looking at him. Instead, I let my gaze roam around the room, then looked back at the drawing.
Something inside me immediately softened. “Is that…me?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image. “Is that how you see me?” A part of me marveled at the beauty he’d drawn while another part felt a pang of vulnerability, knowing that he’d seen me like this, exposed and fragile, vulnerable. Naked.
I focused on the expression he’d drawn on my face, the eyes sparkling defiantly. He even caught that part of me. “Did you draw this?”
“Why?” Vince said. He took the sheet and looked at it. “It’s not perfect but close enough.” He cocked his head, then looked up at me and locked his eyes onto mine. “It’s how I see you.”
The intensity and openness in his gaze sent shivers down my spine, making my rebellious nature flare up in response. But the truth was, I couldn’t deny the beauty of the drawing any more than I could deny the magnetic pull I felt toward him.
I arched a brow, acutely aware of his nearness and the fact I was still only dressed in his T-shirt.
And that that wasn’t even the most undressed he’d seen me.
Also, not the way he drew me. No, his choice was to draw me completely naked. And much more beautiful than I really was. “How’s your eyesight these days?” I teased in an attempt to mask my nervousness with humor.
“Twenty-twenty,” he shot back, his voice low and deliberate. “Why, you have some feedback you want to share?”
My heart raced at the way he stared at me. Somehow, despite the challenge in his eyes, he looked more open, more vulnerable than ever before, and I was torn between defiance and the desire to just crawl onto his lap and feel his strong arms wrapped around me in the best hug ever.
I looked at the drawing again. “That’s not the way I look. I’m not that beautiful,” I said, then glanced back at him.
He narrowed his brows, but our eyes locked,
“You are that beautiful to me.”
The words hung in the air between us, charged with so much unspoken meaning. Was he serious? Was he seriously calling me beautiful?
Our eyes remained locked, the sexual tension between us thick and palpable.
I stood there, on the precipice of something life-altering. Despite everything, despite our differences, our conflicts, our circumstances, I wanted Vince Salvini—all of him, the good and the bad, the caring, and the ruthless.
The passion, the danger, and the unknown.
And the way he looked at me told me he wanted me, too, enough to forget everything that stood between us.
He didn’t release my wrist; instead, he pulled me between his thighs. Then pushed me back until my ass rested on the desk. He bridged the gap.
The position was intimate, and the air between us was suddenly charged with unspoken desire.
A flash of heat rose from my chest upwards, and my nipples tightened, aching for his touch.
He slid his hands under my shirt, then dragged it up, rough against my skin. He stood, pulled the fabric over my head, then sat back down and spanned his hands over my belly and circled my waist. His calloused fingers grazed the soft skin of my sides, then my back.
I shuddered, desire burning through my veins like wildfire, but his eyes held me captive and rooted to the spot.
“You want me as desperately as I want you.” He brushed his lips over the skin of my belly.
A breathy moan escaped me, and I rocked my hips forward, put a hand on the back of his head, and held him against me.
He tightened his grip on my sides and held me suspended between his lips and the desk behind me.
I needed more. Needed him. Closer. More.
Vince groaned, then tilted his head back and stared up at me. “Say it. Tell me you need me as much as I need you.” His deep voice, the command in it, sounded more like a growl and sent a thrill through me.
I tightened my hand in his hair. Enough with the games. “I want you,” I whispered. “Please, Vince.”
The expression on his face turned almost wolfish. “That’s my girl.” He stood, boosted me up until I sat on the desk, and then pulled down my panties, the only barrier still there.
I was completely naked while he was still fully dressed.
Not fair.
I grabbed the buttons of his shirt, but instead of letting me open them, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion.
I touched his chest, his deep olive-toned skin and black ink such a stark contrast to my own.
“Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” He leaned down until we were face to face, then cupped my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Smart, sexy, and all mine.”
My breath caught at his words and the open honesty in his eyes.
All mine.
I shivered, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Was this the point of no return? Was I willing to give him that much power over me?
Did I even have a choice?
Unable to resist the magnetic pull between us, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his.
Vince hesitated for a moment, then kissed me back.
I’d expected an onslaught, I’d expected force, but he kept the kiss light, and his hands cupped my face with a tenderness that belied his usual ruthlessness.
“Is this what you really want, Jemma?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled away a few inches to lock eyes with me.
I stared into the depths of his dark, intense gaze, considering the implications of what we were about to do. But the raw desire coursing through me, coupled with the undeniable connection we shared, was stronger than any doubts or fears. After an agonizing second, I nodded.
“You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” he murmured, hovering just inches in front of me.
I froze, then closed my eyes. Could anything be more humiliating than getting asked that question outright?
“Eyes on me,” he growled, and the command in his voice sent a thrill through me.
I opened my eyes and stared at him.
Vince groaned, grabbed my chin, and leaned in. “It will hurt. There’s no way around it,” he murmured.
I nodded.
“But I’ll make sure you’re ready.”
He tilted my head to the side, leaned in, and nipped at my earlobe. “And I’ll make sure to make you feel so good, you’ll never want to leave my bed.”
He leaned back, and our eyes locked.
“Cocky much?” I said, but my voice wasn’t as steady as I’d liked because I was freaking nervous, and honestly…I’d seen his cock in the shower, and I was pretty sure he was too big to ever fit, and even trying was kind of intimidating.
It would probably hurt like a bitch.
He winked again. “You can take it, Punk.”
I narrowed my brows.
The corner of Vince’s mouth turned up in a wicked grin, and without another word, he cleared his desk with a sweep of his powerful arm.
He laid his hand between my breasts, then pushed me backward until I was sprawled out on the cool surface. My heart raced as he stood over me, his eyes drinking in every inch of my exposed skin.
And then, to my surprise, he sat back down and lifted my legs onto his shoulders.
His face was inches from my pussy.
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to back down. I propped myself up on my elbows and met his gaze.
He narrowed his brows for a second, then moved forward, paused, and stared at me with a mix of lust and determination in his eyes. And then he cupped his lips over my sex and sucked.
Hard.
Oh, my fucking God.
He kept up the suction, then released me with a plop.
His eyes darkened. “Fucking delicious.”
He lowered his mouth to me again, and I cried out as his tongue glided through my folds.
I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the blinding ecstasy of his touch.
He devoured me like a man starved, lapping at my clit as he thrust a finger inside me.
I arched my back, the double onslaught almost too much. But so incredibly good. My inner muscles clamped down on his finger as pleasure built and built until a surprise orgasm shattered through me.
Vince growled against my flesh, the vibrations prolonging the sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
He gentled his touches as I came down, then kissed my inner thigh. “Fucking gorgeous. You’re mine now, all mine.”
A thrill went through me at his possessive words while I lay there, limp, breathless, and boneless before him.
I was his.
Completely his.
“I knew you’d be delicious and utterly beautiful when you come,” he murmured and pushed my thighs from his shoulders. He stood and trailed kisses up my belly.
He paused to tease one nipple with his teeth and tongue before he claimed my mouth in a deep, drugging kiss.
I could taste myself on him, tangy and intoxicating.
He pushed his bulge against my pussy, ground against me.
I reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he clamped his hand over mine. He pulled my hand away, then laid it on his neck. “Hold on tight, Little One.” He grabbed me under my ass, lifted me, and carried me out of his office and into his bedroom.