I looked down at her fingers twisted in linen, then back to her face.
“Tell me you want it,” I said.
Her chin lifted. “I want you to kiss me.”
I reached for her slowly enough that she could move away.
She didn’t.
My hand settled at her waist over the cotton of her tank, and I bent my head.
The first taste of her was lime, sugar, and temper.
Nella made a sound against my mouth that nearly put my teeth in her skin.
I turned us and set her back against the stainless prep table instead, hard enough to rattle the clean bar spoons in their tub and gentle enough not to trap her. She grabbed my shirt with both hands and kissed me like she’d been angry about wanting to do it since the moment I sat down.
Angry, I could work with.
Angry, I might even survive.
Her mouth opened under mine. I kept one hand at her waist and braced the other on the table beside her hip. I didn’t go lower. I didn’t slip under her tank. I kept my teeth out of it, because teeth changed everything.
Her fingers slid up my chest and caught my chain. The little tug sent heat straight down my spine.
“You’re always this controlled?” she asked against my mouth.
“No.”
“Good.”
She kissed me again before I could answer like a civilized man.
My cock went hard behind the thin fabric of my swim trunks, and I shifted my hips back before she could feel too much too soon. Nella noticed. Nothing in that narrow room got past her. Her smile turned dangerous against my mouth.
“Running away, Torretti?”
“Keeping my hands where they belong.”
“And where’s that?”
“Where you put them.”
Her eyes flashed.
She took my wrist and set my hand higher on her side, still over cotton, just below the curve of her breast.
Every muscle in my arm locked.
She smiled like she’d won something.
“You’re very obedient for a man sent to ruin my night.”
“I’m selective.”
“Select better.”
I kissed her harder.
