“Oh, yeah?” I narrow my eyes. “And what’s that?”
“Call me a monster all you want. But you are a Varricchio now. I am owed your respect and loyalty.”
“I don’t respect people I hate.”
“You don’t hate me.”
“I do!” Frustration swells inside my chest like a balloon. “Are you not listening to me?”
“If you hate me so much, why did you stop trying to push me away?” His eyes dart down to where my hands remain pressed against his chest, but there’s no force behind them anymore.
There hasn’t been since that strange warmth bloomed inside me. Instead, my hands have just been resting there. I can feel his heart beating fast under my palm, and warmth radiates from him like he’s some kind of beacon. I have no response for him.
I glance up from my hands and our eyes lock once more.
“You—” My words are swallowed by the unexpected press of his lips against mine. In a fraction of a second, my mind goes completely blank. All my arguments vanish into nothing. I can’t think. I can’t even breathe as he kisses me deeply and shoves his tongue into my mouth like he’s trying to consume me. His thumb slides down the middle of my throat and his body presses firmly against mine. One shift and he’s sliding a leg forward between mine.
Then his thigh presses upward and it suddenly hits me like a jolt of lighting what that unfamiliar heat inside me is.
I’m turned on.
Like, incredibly turned on.
What the hell?
There’s no way. This has to be a mistake. It must be the alcohol or the confusion of the day or something. There’s no way I’m turned on because of Raffaele, surely!
But it’s there. His thigh presses up between my legs, and a sultry roll of pleasure immediately punches through me. It takes all my self-control not to roll my hips down, but it’s a struggle. Now that I’m aware of how turned on I am, it consumes me. I’ve never been turned on this fast before, or in this way. Usually, it takes a long time for me to get going and a lot of preparation throughout the day.
Now here I am, with my core aching and heat blooming through me after one argument with Raffaele.
He deepens the kiss for a moment, and I grip his shirt, intending to shove him away. But I don’t. I keep him there, and my mind melts into the heat of his lips and the warmth of his body. Muscles ripple under the fabric as he shifts against me, tilts his head to change the angle of the kiss, and presses his thigh up harder between my legs.
This time, I can’t stop the slight moan that escapes me, and then it’s over.
Raffaele steps away swiftly, and I sag forward an inch, panting in surprise that the kiss is over, his leg is gone, and I’m left feeling utterly rumpled with nothing to show for it.
Stunned, I glance up into Raffaele’s eyes and he smirks. “Looks like I know you pretty well, after all.”
“Huh?” My mind is sluggish, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s leaving. “Wait, you’re just going to?—”
“Going to what?” He lifts his brow and looks infuriatingly innocent. “You hate me, remember? I have a party to host. Clean yourself up and then you should join me.” With that, he strides away and leaves the room.
Coldness sweeps in to fill the space he left in front of me as a rush of confusion coils through me.
What an asshole.
Did he really just… One minute, I was furious at him. The next, I was putty in his hands. How did that even happen? Where did my anger even go?
It simmers beneath my skin while I stumble against the bar to catch my breath. My core aches, and I’m so turned on that even walking those few steps to the bar was torture. I drop my head to the bar, nestling my face into the crook of my elbow while my other hand finds its way under my dress and into my panties.
I’m soaked through and a single touch to my clit makes my gut clench in a powerful roll.
Another touch and I come with a gasp, muffling my moan by biting into my arm until my legs turn to jelly. I collapse to the floor with a gasp and a moan, working myself quickly through an orgasm so intense that for a few seconds, I can’t breathe.
Dammit.
I hate that guy.