Page 35 of Tempted By the Devil

I was aware she wouldn’t be the happiest to see me.

But I also intended for a chance to clear the air.

“I was looking at you because you’re beautiful… as I just told you,” I explain. “I like staring at beautiful women. So do most men.”

“The flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Allow me to take you out to dinner. We can talk in a more civilized environment.”

She folds her arms and diverts her gaze. “I’m not interested. Please get out of the way so I can step off the elevator.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you not interested?”

She scoffs. “You’re unbelievable. You know exactly why. You go out of your way to charm me in Sicily, wining and dining me. Pretending you wanted to get to know me. Making me feel… feel…”

There’s a slight tremor to her voice as she trails off.

I inch closer. “Feel what, Portia?”

“We’re not doing this right now,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re not about to manipulate me into telling you all about how humiliated I was. You’re not going to get me to fall for your games. None of it was real.”

“You’re wrong.” I close in on her, backing her up against the elevator wall. She inhales sharply as I lean in so close, our mouths hover half an inch apart. I haven’t even touched her yet and she’s already shaky and flustered.

Adrenaline courses in my veins. Pure instinct drives me.

I become like an animal sniffing out my prey, inhaling the scent of her.

Jasmine and roses and something muskier to offset the floral notes.

Addictive and arousing all at once.

Her long lashes flutter with every stunned, wide-eyed blink she gives me. Curiosity blends with uncertainty on her beautiful face. She’s unsure where this is going and if she even wants to know. If she even wants the moment to end.

I lift my hand, slowly and carefully, like we have all the time in the world.

As far as I’m concerned, we do.

It doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of an elevator of her office building. The building will soon be mine once my purchase of Newport Metro News goes through.

It’s more important that I make her understand. That I can make her see how misguided her beliefs are.

The back of my knuckles graze the curve of her cheekbone. “You’re wrong,dolcezza,” I repeat. “There was no pretending. There were no games being played. Everything that happened between us was real. I never intended to hurt you or make you feel humiliated. I would like the chance to make it up to you.”

She squeezes shut her eyes as if to make me disappear. Her breathing sharpens, light intakes of air I can feel against my lips.

But I’m much more interested inherlips—they’re painted the color of wine. Unable to resist, I cup her chin and then gently place a kiss on her mouth.

If I don’t pull away immediately, it’ll become so much more.

I’ll quickly lose control and ravage her sweet lips like I did the night we spent together.

Exercising restraint, I draw back slightly and say, “Please allow me to take you to dinner.”

There’s a second where her answer’s up in the air.

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