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“If you want anyone who looks at you to die, then go ahead, angel.” I pull back, my eyes searching hers.
She isn’t remotely worried about my threats. In fact, that desire written across her face tells me the opposite.
“You think that bothers me?” she says with a menacing grin. I swear my heart almost pounds out of my chest.
“Jesus, fuck.” I rub a hand over my face, letting out a breath.
This woman.
I need to marry her and never let her out of my sight again.
As she giggles, I seize the moment and press my lips firmly against hers.
I really hope she proves me right tonight because now I have her, I don’t think I’d ever be able to let her go. The more she lets me see, the deeper she digs her claws into me.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” she says between kisses.
I raise an eyebrow. She’s right. I’m crazy about one thing.
Her.
“I may have been told that one or two times before.”
30
ZARA
Song- Tennessee Whiskey, Austin Giorgio
I start applying my makeup in the mirror of his en-suite. His predatory stare meets mine in the reflection as he slowly approaches. No, Zara. Today is a new day. But damn, him in that navy suit, his brown hair perfectly styled and a hunger in his gray eyes is certainly what I need in the morning.
His fingers brush against the back of my neck, lingering on the raised, angry red marks.
“How am I supposed to go out like this?” With a playful smirk on his lips, he pulls down his collar, revealing a glimpse of the red scratches that trail along his throat and shoulder.
“Oh, shit.” I cover my mouth with my hands.
I mean, it’s really hot knowing this powerful man is walking around with marks I gave him.
“I think you got away lightly, Zara. I have to walk around looking like I’ve had a fight with a damn tiger,” he says with amusement.
My stomach erupts into butterflies.
The touch of his lips on my neck ignites a fire within me, and I struggle to suppress a moan.
“Come on, I’ve made us breakfast and we have things to discuss.” He slaps my ass before he turns and leaves.
I’m not far behind him, breathless and needy for him, admiring his ass in those tight suit pants. As the scent of freshly cooked pancakes wafts through the air, my stomach grumbles and my mouth waters.
“Sit.” He gestures to the large dining table, set up for two people. There’s coffee and orange juice for each of us.
My eyes are glued to him as he places the food in front of me. As he sits down, the subtle contact of his knee against mine sets my heart racing. I have no idea what is happening to me.
Picking up my fork, I shove in a bite of the most delicious fluffy pancake I think I’ve ever tasted.
“So, what do you want to discuss, Mr. Falcone?” I ask between mouthfuls.
With a swift motion, he pulls out a key and slides it across the table towards me, the sound of metal against wood filling the room, causing me to catch my breath.
