Page 72 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
“God, I’m right there Tess.”
I almost collapse at the sound of him using my abbreviated name. So, for the first time, I use his. “I am too, Benito,” I gasp.
He pauses for a second as though acknowledging that whether we like it later or not, by using each other’sfirst names in such an intimate way, we’ve crossed a line.
He lifts my right leg and rests it on a ledge then feeds his fingers through my folds. He tugs at my clit and I explode into a million little pieces. I’m vaguely aware that he’s growling into my ear, shoving his length to my very edge and emptying himself deep inside me.
When I come around I’m half hanging over the edge of the balcony with Benito’s weight across my back. I lift my heavy lids and see a couple of faces turned our way. Neither of them I recognize.
Benito pulls out, still hard, and his semen runs down my thighs. I’m too exhausted to move, so I don’t attempt to, even when he disappears and returns a few seconds later with a warm cloth. I hear him drop to his knees, then he wipes the cloth up and down my legs, paying extra attention to my sensitive opening.
He helps me step out of my panties and balls them up with the cloth. Both are tossed into a trash can behind the bar. I’m now naked beneath this napkin masquerading as a dress.
His thick hands grab the tops of my legs and turn me around until I’m facing him. I’m struck with emotion when I look into his eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I nod again. “I’m fine.”
“Do you think you’ll regret it?”
I step into him, pulling his head into my chest, then I whisper into his hair. “No.”
Benito
I’ve never felt more free in my life. It feels as though I’ve been holding on to something so tightly my bones ache, but being inside this woman has released my grip. I feel free but I don’t feel safe.
Until this point, the understanding that she hated me, that nothing could ever come of my infatuation, prevented me from falling. That barrier is now gone. I have no balcony ledge. There’s no parachute and there’s definitely no soft landing. Contessa Castellano doesn’t hate me anymore, and that frightens the life out of me.
The beginning of the end was that very moment when she spread my semen across her chest.What the fuck?Everything that came before it was fair game. I loved taking her hate the way I lovekilling my enemies. I could wallow in the dark thrill of her loathing the same way I thrive in the sound of my rivals’ breaking bones.
She clutches my head to her chest and her heartbeat races through my ear canal. Since I saw her at Gianni’s funeral, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. It wasn’t just the never-ending legs that made my mouth water, or sleek glossy hair that made my fist ache, it was the scowl, the sass, the unknown reason why she wanted me to go to hell that makes meso damn hard. I’ve spent the last six months trying to piss her off, just so I can get a glimpse of that hatred.
The day she walked into me outside the barbershop, that was the day my intrigue turned into something more. She was so close I could smell the soap she’d used that morning, the detergent her outfit had been washed with. She was so clean, so fresh and so damn perfect. Even her scowl was perfect and I felt it against my thigh when my dick grew a couple inches.
I had no idea the guy was stalking her. He intruded on that moment and that’s why I killed him. I wanted more of her sneers and eyerolls—they made me feel so fucking alive—and he was in the way.
Discovering his true motivations was like hitting the fucking jackpot. I had every possible excuse then to stay close to her. No one questioned me when I took the office above the studio; no one arched a brow when I moved in to it full time so that I could be wherever she was—either at Cristiano’s or the studio.
And no one would ever suspect I burned down my own house to make that happen.
I stand and lift her up, resting her legs over one arm. She looks softly into my eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you out of here.”
“But, what about Paige…”
“She’s with Donnie. I’ll make sure he takes care of her.”
She smiles into my cheek. “I think she’ll like that very much.”
I carry her to the elevator then select the button for the basement floor. I don’t want anyone setting eyes on Contessa when she’s wearing no panties, regardless of whether that’s visible or not.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she says. Normally her words would be laced with something deliciously spiteful, but they’re warm when they brush my skin.
“I know I don’t.” The elevator doors open and I carry her into a dark corridor. All the doors to the offices are thankfully closed but I can hear voices continuing the meeting without me, as instructed, behind them. “I want to.”
