Claim her. Own her. Take her. A dark voice pushed.
Grinding his back teeth, Capone sat on the barstool, braced a foot on the floor, a whiskey in his hand.
Watching her.
FIFTEEN
“The temptation of a potent Mercado man.” - Lucia
Lucia was shit out of luck if she hoped Capone would be asleep by the time she quietly entered their room.
He was sitting up in bed, the sheets gathered around his bare waist, an arm at the back of his head while he held the TV remote in the other. He was watching a nature program, but his eyes swung to her when she closed the door behind her.
Breathless.
God, he was gorgeous.
Too gorgeous for her heart to cope, and she tried hard not to stare at his ripped upper chest. She smelled fresh soap, so he’d showered when he’d left her an hour ago talking to Jacie and Spencer. Collecting her long PJ’s from the suitcase, she felt his eyes following her into the small bathroom. Using the facilities, she took her time washing up, brushing her teeth and hair until she was sure he must be asleep.
Nope. Those predator eyes stalked her across the room when she piled her clothes on the chair. This one bed thing was a bad idea, and yet she gravitated toward it without a word of protest.
“Not going to talk to me?” He broke the silence, and she met his gaze.
“No,” she answered simply. And then because she had to, “can you get out so I can get in?” The bed was against the wall, and Capone was lying against the end. She could either knee crawl up from the bottom or launch herself, ninja style, over his body.
Watching her, his chin hit his chest. “Climb over.”
Climb over.
Climb over him.
This was what sexually deprived nightmares were made of.
Not giving him the satisfaction of complaining, she put a knee onto the bed and threw her leg over him, accidentally catching him in the stomach. He didn’t groan, but she heard the air leaving his mouth as she ambled over like she was scaling a mountain.
Lucia laid in stony silence, her body taut like a tangled coil with her back to Capone, trying to make herself as small as possible so she didn’t feel his furnace-like heat along her spine.
It was no good.
The bed was small.
The man was huge.
She felt him everywhere.
It felt as though hours went by until the room plunged into darkness, and she felt Capone move down the bed. His breath fanned the back of her neck, and she bodily shivered.
What had come over him to act that way tonight?
He made her crazy, that was for damn sure.
Shivering again, not from the cold, but from the memories of him smashing her up against the wall. They wouldn’t leave her alone, and Lucia was almost ready to throw herself out of the bed to put some space between them.
Then she felt him sigh and haul an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re too damn tense, and you’re keeping us both awake. Relax into me.”