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“What?”
“Nothing.” He moves closer again. “Tell me more about how you think I’m fucking sweet old Carlotta,” he says with a devilish smirk.
“I was teasing. Mostly.” My words are deflated now. I see he’s going to hold a different kind of power over me. Jealousy. I was hoping my last husband would have many mistresses so he’d bother me less, maybe even forget about me.
“There will be no mistresses. I can promise you that.” He reads me so easily. He’s not smirking now, though. He finds no amusement in my hurt or jealousy. I said I know men, and I do. Bad ones like my father. But I realize now that I’ve never known a man like Nick Davinci.
His lips come to mine once more, and I let him take my mouth. The things he can do with his tongue curl my toes, and I find it difficult to think when he holds me tight and masters me so easily.
I break our kiss before things go too far and I do end up on this bed. “I need to get ready if you want this wedding to happen tonight.”
He steps back slightly, lifting both of my hands to his mouth.
“I can smell your sweet scent on your fingertips,” he says before he takes one into his mouth. A low growl comes from deep inside of him. “Remember what I said, cara mia. No touching.” With those words he drops my hands and turns, leaving me to get ready.
