Page 66 of Veil of Obsession
His hands slide up my back, pressing me into him, his thumb stroking circles along my ribs. My whole body feels hypersensitive, my skin buzzing beneath his touch.
I barely register when he tilts his hips up, pressing against the heat between my thighs. A whimper escapes me before I can stop it.
Lucio stills for a fraction of a second, and then he groans, a dark, almost tortured sound. “Fuck, Princess.”
His lips are back on mine before I can say anything—hungrier, rougher, more desperate. His fingers grip my hips, guiding me, making me feel just how hard he is beneath me.
Heat pools low in my stomach, my hands sliding from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging. Lucio growls against my lips, his hips rolling up, meeting the slow, unintentional grind of mine. The friction is too much and not enough at the same time, leaving me breathless and aching.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters, his hands slipping under my shirt, fingertips tracing the bare skin of my lower back. “Tell me you feel this too.”
I do. I feel it in every nerve, in every inch of my body pressed against him. The heat, the need, inevitability of it all. My fingers trail down his chest, feeling the sharp ridges of muscle beneath his shirt, my breath shaky.
“Lucio—”
He kisses me again, swallowing whatever words I was about to say. This time, it’s slower, deeper. Like he’s savoring me, like he wants to stretch this moment out and etch it into his skin.One of his hands slides into my hair, tilting my head, angling me just how he wants. His tongue teases against mine, coaxing, controlling, his teeth grazing my lips again just to hear the soft gasp I let out.
Everything about him—his touch, his kiss, the way his body moves beneath mine—is intoxicating.
But it’s dangerous too.
This is exactly why I stayed away. Exactly why I refused to see him. Because I knew if I let myself get this close, I wouldn’t stop.
Lucio pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath uneven. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles on my lower back, as if grounding himself.
“You’re not running this time.”
I swallow, my chest rising and falling against his. “Not yet.”
His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something darker. “You won’t.”
I don’t argue. Because right now, in this moment, I don’t want to run.
I want him.
Lucio’s mouth lingers on mine, his grip firm on my waist, holding me exactly where he wants me. Exactly where I shouldn’t be. I feel his heartbeat, fast and steady beneath my palms, his body heat sinking into my skin. Everything about him is intoxicating. The way he kisses me like he wants to ruin me. The way his hands flex against my waist, as if he’s fighting the urge to pull me even closer.
And I like it. That’s the problem.
Panic flickers in my chest, spreading fast and sharp like a blade pressing against my ribs. I feel too much. Want too much.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I can’t do this. Not with him.
I pull back suddenly, breaking the kiss, my breath ragged, my lips tingling from the force of him. Lucio doesn’t move, his hands still on me, his dark eyes locked onto mine, watching. Waiting.
“I have to go,” I whisper, my voice horse.
His gaze flickers, sharp and assessing, before his grip on my waist loosens. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t fight it.
“Then go,” he says simply.
I push off him so fast I nearly stumble, my body still wired from the feeling of him, from the way he kissed me like he already knows that I am his. I grab my necklace from where he threw it behind him, curling my fingers around the cool metal.
Lucio leans back against the couch, his hands resting on his thighs, his expression unreadable. His silence is worse than if he had grabbed me, worse than if he had tried to stop me.
I move toward the door, forcing my legs to work, forcing my heart to stop screaming at me to turn back. Just as my fingers graze the handle, his voice stops me cold.
“You’re going to come back.”
