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“Answer my question.” His lips firm, he looks directly into my eyes. “What would you have told me?”
Measuring my reply, I know that even if he’s drunk, he’s still my boss, and I must not disrespect him in any way. “I would have told you that you are going to become a married man very soon and must be feeling the pressure of that. I would have said that, while flattered that you would want me in that way, I would never disrespect you or your fiancée or your impending marriage in any way. And then I would have removed myself from your sight so that you would no longer be tempted by me in any way.”
His shoulders droop forward, and that lopsided smile comes back. “You are an angel.”
“Not at all. I’m a woman who has respect for the sanctity of marriage. I’m also a woman who wants to be paid for the work I do, and if I sleep with my boss, the chances of me getting paid go way down. And my chances of being killed by his wife go way up.”
He nods and gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You might be right about that.”
“I think I am right about that.” Feeling a tingle of numbness on my lips, I feel I’m on the verge of becoming tipsy and put my glass down. “I’ve had enough.”
He picks the glass up and holds it out to me. “Not yet. I want to make another toast.”
“I don’t know. I try not to drink past my limits.” And going past my limits around him seems like the worst idea ever.
“I insist.” He continues to hold out the glass, so I take it. “Good.”
Holding it up, I ask, “So, what are we toasting now?”
He’s quiet for a long moment before saying, “To you, my sweet, sweet Isabella. May all your dreams come true.”
I can’t help but smile at his kind gesture and add my own, “To you, Carlo Vietti, a wonderful man who deserves a loving wife. I hope you get what you deserve.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t drink. He still holds his glass in the air, looking at me with worry in his dark eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t wish that on me.”
Unclear why he would say such a thing, I try not to make a big deal out of it. “Hey, it’s just a toast. Not some prayer or anything like that. Let’s drink,” I say in an attempt to lighten his sudden dark mood.
We both drink, and then he places his glass on the chair beside him. “If I made a confession to you, would you hate me for doing it?”
“Carlo, I would never hate you. You’re my stepbrother’s best friend. I know you’re a good man. And no one is without sin. What I’m trying to say is that we all make mistakes.” The alcohol has taken over my mouth, and my inhibitions are abandoning me at a rapid pace.
“I like you, Isabella.” I try to say something to stop him from making a confession he will regret, but he places his finger against my lips. It leaves them tingling even more than they already were. “I want you.”
He moves his finger, and my lips part to tell him something along the lines of he shouldn’t want me because he’s engaged to another woman whom he’ll be marrying in less than twenty-four hours. But that doesn’t happen at all. “I want you too, Carlo,” I confess without remorse. The woman he’s supposed to marry hasn’t given him an ounce of her attention, as far as I know. He deserves better than her.
His hands run up my arms, over my shoulders, and then he cups the back of my neck, angling my face before his lips barely touch mine, increasing my need for more. And then his kiss turns from soft to ravenous in an instant, his mouth on mine, taking control like an expert.
My inhibitions are out the window, and I don’t care about anything except him and me and how we’re going to do things we will both regret and might be a little ashamed of. But, by God, we are going to do them.
This has to be a dream!
Chapter 7
Carlo
Her body melts with my touch, and her mouth yields to mine. She is perfection. Passion surges through me, needing more from her than I imagine she’s even ready for. But I’m going to push her to her limits anyway.
Moving her backward until her back hits the wall, I pull my mouth from hers, look into her fire-filled blue eyes, then spin her around to face the wall, yank her dress up, and rip her panties off her, baring her plump ass.
All I can hear is how heavy she’s breathing as I run my hand over her creamy white ass. Using my other hand to unbutton my pants, I free the beast, then press my erection against the small of her back as I lean in to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you now.”
Her hands smack against the wall as she prepares herself for my intrusion. Her head is turned to one side, her cheek flush with the wall, and she bites her lower lip with worry of what is about to come.
I adore that she doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t beg me not to fuck her, and just lets me do what I want with her. She has no idea how this memory will be burned into her memory bank for the remainder of her life.
The night I took what was mine, and neither of us ever looked back.
Turning her to face me, I lift her up and then bring her down on my hard cock. Her face shows the pain she’s feeling as her pussy stretches to fit me. Then it relaxes, and she smiles and opens her eyes. “That feels good.”
