Page 45 of Forbidden

“You’re quiet, Pen,” he says, voice rough like gravel over silk. “What’s rattling around in that head of yours?”

I giggle, the wine loosening my tongue, and shrug. “Dunno. Just… vibing.” My crush on him’s been simmering forever. It’s stupid, reckless, a kid’s fantasy I’ve never shaken. He’s Sophia’s dad, late thirties, all tattoos and quiet menace, but when he beams like that, my stomach flips.

He leans in, elbow on the back of the couch, his breath warm with liquor. “Vibing, huh? You’re a lightweight, cara mia.That wine’s got you flushed already,” he mutters, watching me over the rim of his glass. Whiskey. Not wine. Something older, sharper, like him.

I giggle, rolling my eyes. “Barely. I can still walk in a straight line.”

“Impressive.”

From the kitchen, Sophia calls out, “Pen, you want a Coke too?”

“Yeah!” I yell back, but my eyes don’t leave his. He’s still watching me, amusement flickering across his lips, the space between us taut.

Then Sophia’s phone rings and she groans. “Ugh, it’s Jason. Be right back.” She steps outside, the screen door slapping shut, leaving us alone.

Adriano’s brow lifts. “Jason?”

“Her ex. The one who cheated.”

For a split second, anger flashes in his eyes. He was always fiercely protective of her. But they fought, and now this is him pretending not to care. He exhales, masking it with indifference. “Figures.”

A taunting grin crawls on my face. “That was a little too casual. You plotting something, or just letting karma do the dirty work?”

His lips twitch. “Men like that bury themselves. I will not waste the effort.”

Something about the way he says it—calm, sure, final—sends a slow pulse of heat through me.

“Damn,” I murmur, tilting my head. “That was... weirdly attractive.”

A faint grin plays on his face. “Careful, Penelope. Keep talking like that, and you might start making bad decisions.”

I let my eyes drop to his mouth before thinking, Oh, I think I already have.

His lips twitch, and I know I have his attention. He’s always careful, measured, never giving too much away, but I’ve seen the way his eyes linger when he thinks no one’s looking. I’ve seen the restraint in his hands, the hesitation just before he pulls back.

Tonight, he doesn’t pull back.

“Wouldn’t bet on it,” I tease, shifting to face him fully. My bare knee brushes his thigh, and his jaw tightens, and something mysterious flashes behind his eyes. Power. Control. Something else I can’t name but want to push just to see how far it’ll go.

“Dare me,” I blurt, heat rushing to my face before I can think better of it.

His brow lifts, amused. “To do what?”

I don’t have an answer. Or maybe I do, but saying it out loud would make it real, and that would be dangerous. So I do the next stupid thing that comes to mind.

I swallow, my mouth dry despite the wine. “I dare you to… let me sit on your lap.” It’s dumb, reckless, a half-drunk impulse, but the words are out before I can stop them. His brows lift, surprise flashing, then something hungrier settles in his eyes.

But the words from his mouth contradict. “No.”

“Come on, you’re no fun.”

“I’m not playing this with you.” His voice is firm. He moves to stand, but I grab his wrist, holding him back.

“Okay, fine. I’ll ask you, then.”

His jaw tightens. “Penelope.”

“I promise. No more funny business.”

---