Cold nausea washes over me as I stare down at the bartender, chatting with his customers while he pours their drinks. I’d laugh it off if I didn’t think Gianni meant it. But I know what he’s capable of now.
“He didn’t do anything.” It took way too long for everything to come together, but then again, I’m a little overwhelmed right now. “Is this your office? Do you own the club?”
“And I would gladly shut it the fuck down this minute if it meant there wouldn’t be another man setting eyes on you within these walls.” His hands find my hips, fingers pressing in before they inch my dress higher. I wish my body wouldn’t go weak at his touch. It’s been so long, and I’ve craved his touch embarrassingly.
“Then I had to see that son of a bitch talking to you,” he snarls. “Your ex. I recognized him right away.”
I close my eyes and bite back a sigh when he rakes his fingernails along my thighs. “I didn’t want it to happen.”
One of his hands closes around my throat, his grip firm but not cutting off my air supply. “Are you sure about that? You didn’t call him and ask him to meet you here?”
“Fuck no!” I very much wantthisto happen. Too much. I didn’t really believe we were over. That we should be, yes. But no way were we both going to be strong enough to continue this charade.
“Shhh, little bird. I believe you, but that doesn’t mean I like it. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air you do.”
I let my eyes fall closed again, melting against him. Desire sizzles its way down my spine, the sensation spreading through my core and heating what was already scorching. The dress is up around my hips now, his knowing fingers stroke bare skin, and my knees threaten to give out on me.
“You belong to me.” His erection presses against my ass, and I’m certain he’s making sure I get the point. Like this is proof. “I can’t stand up here and watch you talking and smiling while other men try to flirt with you. Not when you belong to me. I should kill that bastard behind the bar for speaking to you when you’re mine.”
He punctuates his statement by grinding against me until I moan, my breath fogging the glass. He’s obsessed, but so am I.
“I’m sick of this bullshit.” He presses his lips to my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, Caterina. No more of this cat-and-mouse game. I need you. It’s pathetic how much you consume my thoughts. I’m obsessed with your body, your scent, your every fucking move. I need you, and I know you need me. Now tell me, do you want me to fuck you? To give us what we both crave?”
My legs are about to give out, and I’m surprised my arousal hasn’t made a puddle on the floor at our feet. That doesn’t matter so much once I let the doubts trickle in.
He hurt me once before.
He threatened me.
He’s a ticking time bomb, ready to go off.
None of those red flags seem to impact me. I want him so much it’s painful. Pitiful. My desire for him is all-consuming.
“Yes,” I finally admit. I’m ashamed, but I can’t lie to myself. I’m weak for this man.
“Have you ever been fucked?”
“Yes.”
“No. You haven’t.” The strain in his voice hints at something about to shred. The last bits of his self-control. “I doubt that boy you were with had the first idea how to fuck you properly. The way you need to be fucked. He couldn’t treat this body the way you and I both know you need it. Could he?”
I train my eyes on Luciano as he strolls up to the bar again. What did I ever see in him? What would he do if he could see me right now?
“No,” I whisper, staring at the pitiful loser in question. “He couldn’t.”
“That’s right. But I know that already.” His rough hands work the dress up over my ass, and he palms my bare cheeks. Goosebumps pebble my skin. All that matters is his touch. A chuckle fills my ears as I press my greedy bottom against him.
“Fuck, Caterina. You make me crazy with need.” His fingers dig into my flesh, and I need his cock inside me like I need my next breath. “When I run my tongue through your slit, what will I find? How wet will you be for me?”
I shiver at the onslaught of images that appear in my mind. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I think I already know the answer,” he growls, his fingers sliding between my cheeks, pulling the thong aside.
There’s no time for my brain to conjure up an excuse. Despite all the confusion, I still want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I am his. There’s nothing I can do about it. Right or wrong, I belong to him.
“Now,” he whispers, teasing me with featherlight strokes. “Let’s see how much wetter we can get you before I claim you once and for all.”
The air leaves my lungs, and all I think is: finally.