Page 35 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

“I expected to have a rational conversation. Clearly you’re in no headspace for that, so I will leave you alone.”

Her hand curled into a fist. She wanted to punch him. She really did. But that wouldn’t get through to him. Nothing would. So why not be asirrationalas she wanted? “Make me move then, Lorenzo.”

He took her by the arm. But he did not move her. He didn’t even pull. His hand just gripped her, branded her like an iron. Oh, how she wanted this infuriating, ridiculous idiot of a man. It would never make sense to her how easily he affected her.

Never, she thought, as his grip finally moved her. Not out of the way. Not away from him.

No, he jerked her to him in a move that had her crashing against the hard mountain of him. Before his mouth crashed to hers.

It was wild. Explosive. Rough and wonderful...and if she had even a shred of intelligence or self-preservation, she would push him away. She would end this ridiculous cycle of stupidity.

But she didn’t. She held on. Clutched him like her life depended on it. Returned the furious kiss with one of her own. Because all that feeling climbed inside of her. It rushed through her like a drug.Herehe admitted he loved her, even if he didn’t believe in love. Even if he never said the words.

When he kissed her, when he touched her, when they came together as nothing but bodies seeking pleasure, shefelthis love for her.

Sheknewshe had to tell him to stop, because he’d never admit it or acknowledge that love. She knew kissing him back, wrapping herself around him was the kind of mindless lack of thought that had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place.

But his hands slid up the slit in her skirt, pushing the fabric up. It was dark in here, so she couldn’t see him, but she knew him. His mouth, his hands, the shape of his body. She knew how to arch against him, how to nip at his jaw, how to curl her fingers into his hair.

His mouth streaked down her neck, bringing the strap down over her shoulder, cool air touching bared skin. She had to stop this before it went too far. Because...because...

“You have a date here. You brought someone else. She...” Brianna tried to find the words. To tell him it was wrong. To tell herself. She had stopped this once before. She had to be strong enough to stop it again.

“She knows what this is, Brianna.” His eyes were dark blazes of fire. His words growled. He was intensity personified. Everything she wanted. “She has no designs on me.”

“Lucky her.” Because Brianna didn’t have the first clue what this was. What to do about it.

Except succumb.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THETHOUGHTOFanother man putting his hands on Brianna had consumed Lorenzo from the moment he’d seen her in that dress. Being at this party, seeing other men look at her, it destroyed him. Whether it be that ineffectual weasel Calo Finetti or another man, Brianna washis, and anyone else so much as having athoughtabout her sent a fury through him he knew would destroy everything.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand it was hypocritical to consider marrying another woman while hating the idea Brianna might marry someone else. Touch them. Be naked with them. He knew it was absolutely wrong and unfair.

He just didn’t care. Not in this moment, when she was arguing with him looking like sunlight in a dim room. So that no matter what realities and truths existed, heonly knew he needed her. He knew this dark ribbon of emotion inside of him was only cured if his mouth was on hers.

It made everything else disappear. Nothing mattered here with her mouth on his. Not tabloids. Certainly not Natalia and her refusals. Not Dante Marino or anyone else.

Brianna’s mouth. Her arms around him. The sunshine sweetness of her even when she was angry with him.

She didn’t push him away. Didn’t refuse him. She kissed him back with the same wild desperation that had taken hold of every rational thought, every careful plan.

The plan was gone. Everything was gone except the velvet of her skin, the way she begged him.

Because she was begging him. For more. For all. He closed the door to the room, plunging them into darkness. He shoved the skirt of her dress up, found the soft, wet heat of her. Touched her there until her breath shuddered.

The scent of her filled the room. His body so hard he did not know if he would ever move again. Everything centered on Brianna. His sweet, beautiful Brianna, moving against his hand.

“Lorenzo. Please.”

Please.

He freed himself. There was no time for finesse. He ached. Until there was nothing left but the ache. But her.

They both needed something more than gentleness. They needed the wild. To feed the desperation. So he drove himself home, as she wrapped herself around him. He used the wall for leverage, tried to calm the frantic panic inside of him with a demanding pace.

He was inside her. In this dark room. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. Every breath. Every squeeze of her fingers against his shoulders. The arch of her back as she opened for him, took him deeper.

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