Chapter 13
Sal waited, every muscle strung tight as he watched her eyes.
Catarina was perched on the edge of something important, fragile yet fierce—no, not a butterfly.
Butterflies were too delicate. She might look soft and breakable on the outside, but he’d seen the steel inside of her.
Over the past few weeks, she’d grown stronger, surer of herself, devouring books that would have sent lesser minds running.
She was smart as hell, stubborn, and beautiful.
And her ass in those leggings? Pure torture. The oversized sweaters she wore only made it worse, teasing him with the flash of curves beneath.
He’d lived like a monk since bringing her here, deliberately holding back.
He could have called any number of women for relief, but the thought didn’t tempt him anymore.
Not when the only woman he wanted—the only woman who could tempt him at all—was his wife, staring at him with those dark eyes that sometimes looked like she wanted to devour him.
That image alone shot lust through him so sharp he nearly cursed aloud.
He knew the exact moment she decided to touch him again.
His whole body went still, straining, careful not to loom or frighten her.
She looked delicate, yes, but she wasn’t fragile.
She’d even filled out a little in the last month, softening in ways that drove him crazy, her curves more lush, less bone under skin.
When her fingers finally brushed the hair at the back of his neck, a low sound escaped him before he could catch it. He dropped his head, bracing his hands on the desk to steady himself, baring his neck to her touch.
That simple shift gave her courage. Both hands slid into his hair, her fingertips massaging his scalp as she explored. He stayed utterly still, silently telling her she could take her time, that she had every right to touch him. That he loved it.
Minutes stretched, each one sweet torture, until he finally lifted his head. He didn’t realize how raw his need looked in his eyes—but he saw her mouth, soft and sweet, silently begging him.
He kissed her.
And once he did, he couldn’t stop. Her lips were too soft, too yielding, tasting of honey and mint. When her tongue met his, he groaned, dragging her closer, desperate for more of her curves pressed against him.
Then her hands left his hair, cupping his cheek. The tenderness in that single gesture nearly undid him. He froze, breath caught, praying she wouldn’t pull away. Slowly, he broke the kiss, his eyes opening as though he needed to see if she truly meant it.
She looked like she’d just climaxed, he thought.
“Don’t stop, Cata,” he grumbled, grabbing onto her slender hips and pulling her in closer.
He shifted slightly so that she wouldn’t feel his erection, but so that he could feel her breasts against his chest, and then he was kissing her again.
He felt her fingers along his neck, his shoulders, then down over his arms. When those seeking fingers searched across the expanse of his chest, he couldn’t stop the muscles from flexing, almost as if every part of him was seeking more of her touch.
A sharp knock on the door yanked them both out of their lust-fueled haze.
Instinct had Sal shifting immediately, his body angled in front of Catarina’s, shielding her from sight as his glare cut toward the door.
None of the house alarms had gone off, which meant it was one of his men. Still, no one interrupted him lightly.
For a fleeting second, he considered barking at them to get lost. But if they’d dared knock on his closed office door, it meant the matter was urgent.
With a reluctant sigh, he brushed his lips over hers one last time before pulling back. Not far—he couldn’t make himself step too far away from her—but enough that no one would immediately guess what they’d been doing.
“Come in,” he called out, voice edged with steel.
The door cracked open and Tony’s head appeared. The hulking capo didn’t glance at the desk, didn’t even glance at Catarina. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his tone clipped. “Sorry, boss. The meeting is about to start. Everyone has arrived.”
Sal bit back a curse. Timing was a bitch.
He bent and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Catarina’s head, inhaling her scent, grounding himself in the feel of her. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised against her hair.
When he straightened, he caught the dazed, flushed look in her eyes—and satisfaction curled low in his gut. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one burning alive.
“Stay here,” he told her quietly, then strode around his desk, shoulders already hardening as the weight of business came down on him.
Whatever waited for him on that secure line could have waited another heartbeat. Because now Sal knew—Catarina wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
And that changed everything.