16. Chapter Sixteen #3
"I don't consider technicalities,” he says. “So, I have an idea."
I yank my sweater over my head and turn back to him. He's leaning back against the counter, with one of the glasses of wine in his hand.
He takes a slow sip, and I watch him swallow it, slowly.
It is... mesmerizing.
I am in so much trouble.
"Mm," he says. "I was right. This is better if you let it breathe a little. Anyway, since I don't consider technicalities, I'm thinking we should just go ahead and sleep together. That way we can be absolutely sure, and then you can put your ban into place. With some justification, at least."
He is insane.
"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard," I say, shaking my head.
"Really? I'm usually very logical. Ask anyone."
He's smiling now. A knowing smile that says he knows exactly how I'm feeling and how bad I want it.
And he's right, which is even more annoying.
He's so... infuriating.
So hot.
So... dangerous.
So... Stop it, Donna.
"I'm not going to sleep with you," I say, my hands fisting at my sides. "Not now. Not ever."
"Is that so?" he says, then takes another sip of wine. "I disagree. In fact, I think you're going to sleep with me very soon." He places the glass on the counter and starts walking towards me.
He's so much bigger than I am.
A lot bigger.
I could take him. I could definitely take him. But he's not a threat. Not in that way.
I know he'd never try to force himself on me.
That's not what I'm worried about.
"How do you figure?" I ask defiantly.
"Because, Donatella," he says, and my stomach clenches when he says my name. "You want me as much as I want you."
"I told you no one calls me that," I say.
"Then I will be the only one," he says, and the possessiveness in his tone sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
This is going to be a disaster. I can feel it in my bones.
"I am very good at what I do, Donna," he says softly, circling me like a predator. "At reading people. And I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body responds to mine. You're fighting it, but you want this. You want me."
"No, what happened before was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. We were both caught up in the moment. It was just... adrenaline."
"Adrenaline," he repeats, a wry, knowing look on his face. "No, it wasn't adrenaline. You wanted me, just as I wanted you. And we would be in bed even now if you hadn't gotten in your own head. You weren't thinking about professionalism until you gave in to me. Then you got scared."
"I do not get scared," I say automatically, turning away from him. He has to be a mind reader.
"Everyone gets scared, Donna. It's human. And you are human, despite your best efforts to prove otherwise."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" he asks. "You're so used to being in control, of being the one with the power. You're not used to giving it to someone else. You're not used to letting go."
He's right.
Again.
Damn him.
"And with me, you did. You let go. And now you're running scared because you liked it too much."
He steps behind me, and I can feel the heat of his body without him even touching me.
"You liked it, didn't you?" he whispers against my ear. "Letting me have that control over you. Letting me touch you, make you come."
My breath hitches.
He places a light kiss on my shoulder, and I shudder.
"Tell me you didn't like it," he whispers. "And I'll leave."
I can't do it.
"Tell me you want me to go," he says quietly, pressing another kiss, this time to my neck.
I don't say anything.
"I'll go," he says. "Just say the word. Say you don't want this."
And I can't.
I can't say the words.
Because I do want it. I want him. Desperately.
He starts kissing my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access.
His hands slide around my waist, pulling me back against him.
I can feel his erection pressing against my lower back, and it sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
One of his hands slides up my stomach to cup my breast through my sweater, his thumb rubbing my nipple, which is already hard, aching for him.
I reach back and bury my fingers in his hair, holding him to me.
He makes a low, satisfied, rumbling sound in his chest, like a predator who has just cornered its prey.
And I am the prey.
But for once, I don't mind.
"I want you, dolcezza," he murmurs against my skin, nipping and toying with me. "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you, but I knew nothing could happen until this job was done. I had to be professional."
The word is mocking on his tongue, and I can't help but smile, even as I'm melting against him.
I am so, so screwed.
"Now that the job is done," he continues, "I'm done pretending."
He turns me around to face him, his dark gaze intense.
He cups my face in his hands. "So, this is your last chance. Tell me you don't want this, and I'll go."
I look up into his eyes, and I see the desire there, but I also see respect. He meant what he said. If I tell him no, he'll go. No questions asked.
But that's the last thing I want.
"Don't go, Lorenzo," I whisper.