Page 87 of Sinner's Vows

Iease her away and cup her cheek, taking control of this situation. “We need to phone Portia. Franco is dead, but Portia’s connection will know enough. And once in Italy…”

She chews her lip, her eyes fixed on mine, and it’s more than I can take. Once in Italy, things are going to come to a head.

I brush my thumb along her chin, tugging at it so slightly, the skin dents under the pressure as my thumb pulls her mouth open, giving me a peek of that sweet tongue. Fuck. I want to kiss her so badly, my cock pulses with the need.

She shifts in her seat, almost subconsciously rolling her hips, and I close my eyes. It's the perfect friction that would get us both off within minutes if she does it again and again.

“Sweetheart,” I groan, every part of my brain and body going against the logic I try to preach to myself. “We can’t. Never mind everything else, if I ever get to be with you, I want to take my time. Ineedto take my time with you. This is not the place, and we don’t have the time you need—the time you deserve—for me to take proper care of you.”

From afar, a sound penetrates, strange at this early hour. The house’s doorbell. Ariana holds her breath, and I frown. It’s perfectly quiet in this small room. I must have heard wrong. Then the distinct ring sounds through the house again.

When my phone vibrates at the same time, Ariana clambers off my lap, and a second later, someone knocks on the closed bedroom door.

“Sir? Mr. Scalera?”

“It’s one of the guards,” I say to her as I get up and hold a hand for her. “And it’s the gatehouse calling.” I kill the call, cursing how I don’t have a gun on me. And that we’re basically cornered in this small room if for some reason shit is already going down with the Petrovs.

Fuck. Nobody breaches this fortress’s walls. It must be something else. I notice two missed calls from Portia. Maybe she knew better than to make me wait.

I open the door, and the guard is standing there, looking apologetic.

“Sir, Portia is here at the gate with an unknown man. She’s requesting entrance and to speak to you.”

Good. If she’s bringing this man to talk to me, it means she’s wanting to save him from an interrogation. “It’s fine, let them in, but do your usual.”

“Yes, sir.”

They’ll strip them naked if needed to see if they have any weapons on them.

“Come,” I say to Ariana, my hand on the small of her back. “The party is starting. Best we get dressed for it.”

Back in our bedroom, I walk straight to the shower, knowing Ariana won’t try anything now. Not with Portia bringing Rosalia’s dad here. I rush my shower and walk out in just a towel, water still dripping from my hair.

Her gaze follows me all the way to the closet, and I’m so tempted to drop this towel and let her see what she’s missing out on, but I turn my back on her. “Your turn, sweetheart. Who knows what this day’s going to bring.”

As I get dressed, the faucet turns on, and by the time she comes out in her robe and a towel around her wet hair, I’m dressed in my usual suit, but without the tie, and scanning through emails on my phone. I’ll first listen to Portia’s side of the story before I phone Matteo.

Ariana rummages through the small stack of clothes Portia bought her, and a thought zaps through my mind and quietly brews as I watch her surreptitiously. I’d love to dress this woman. Dress her for me. Dress her for her, in things that speak of her worth. Dress her in expensive clothes I’d strip off her body with my teeth, my lips… Not that she doesn’t look perfect in those plain white cotton panties, but fuck…the way she looks in cheap satin makes me want to unwrap her out of the most expensive silks.

She skips the bra, probably because it’s still early and she’s planning to spend the day again at home. I watch with mounting frustration how she pulls on a T-shirt and jeans. When she turns to me, those sweet nipples are hard, as if she felt every caress of my gaze.

A sudden hot flush of possessiveness spreads underneath my skin, fueled by her ignorance about how fucking stunning and sexy she is. I stand, and button my jacket’s lapels to cover-up my erection.

“That’s not going to cut it, sweetheart,” I say, my voice gruff.

“What?”

“If you think you’re going to walk out of here with your breasts on display like that for every fucking security guard in this house and beyond, you’re mistaken.”

Her eyes widen as she looks down, that blush already chasing to the surface. I’m by her side in two strides and pick out the padded beige bra between the other pieces of clothing. “Here.”

She turns her back to me as she takes it, flustered, and slips the T-shirt’s sleeves off so she can put on the bra. I’m so close toher, if I just lift my arm, I can run a knuckle down the valley of her spine.

My hand is burning with the need to touch her, and her movements have slowed to such a snail’s pace, I bet she’s waiting for me to act first.

We’re fucked, aren’t we?

47

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