Page 13 of Salvatore

Rough.

Demanding.

His tongue decimates mine in wild lashes. His leg grinds against my mound.

I can’t feel my feet. My legs. My body.

My coherence has been eroded to nothing more than the heat between my thighs and the needy moans threatening to escape my throat.

I cling to him.

Drown in him.

Without notice he pulls back an inch, the kiss abruptly ending as I pant into the space between us, his grip on my hip and jaw the only things stopping me from dissolving into a puddle at his feet.

I’ve never been kissed like that before.

Never, from any of the men I’ve indulged in.

Not once.

“Now have I earned a mere glance?” he growls.

My breath shudders from my lips.

I believe him. Believe that he’s crazy enough to have seduced me just to earn bare eye contact. That even though I’m sure he enjoyed that kiss as much as I did, what he actually craved was my attention.

I swallow, nervous that the spell is about to be broken. Then open my eyes to see his midnight stare full of lust peering back at me. To glimpse the strong chiseled jaw. The olive complexion. The pure unadulterated perfection of his handsome face.

I stop breathing.

Start panicking.

I shove his arms away and lurch backward, singed, stung, and in so much fucking trouble, because the man before me isnot only God’s gift to women, he’s also a soldier in the devil’s army.

3

SALVATORE

She says my name.

It’s not that I hear her exactly. The music is too loud, the people surrounding us too obnoxious. But I watch those full, lush lips make out the words.

Not just Salvo or Salvatore.

She says my name in its entirety—Salvatore Costa—as her dark almond eyes narrow.

Usually familiarity from a woman is a good thing.

If her reaction had been favorable I would’ve assumed she’d learned of my existence through the tabloids given my previous role in my family’s fashion label.

Yet she stares back at me with something akin to loathing. In fact that magnetic gaze squints with disgust.

I slide my hands into my pockets, feigning calm while my curiosity thunders a heavy beat beneath my chest. “You know my name, but I haven’t been given the pleasure of learning yours.”

That’s not entirely true.

I know her name. I just can’t remember it.

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