Page 136 of The Savage

He cups my cheeks with both hands. ‘Angel, look at me.’

I do. His beautiful eyes pierce mine and everything else falls away.

‘You’re safe,’ he tells me quietly. ‘You hear me? With me, you’re safe. We go as fast or as slow as you want. No pressure. No matter what weasel is sniffing around or what memory claws at you.’

A tremor runs through me. ‘I know,’ I whisper.

He kisses me once then, sliding his tongue between my lips, uncaring of the personnel standing around. I’m shaky but weirdly settled when he rests his forehead on mine.

‘Good. Because I need you better so I can make that fucking fantasy come true.’

I laugh breathlessly. He smirks like he’s already imagining corrupting every part of me. ‘Renzo?’

‘Mmm?’

I reach behind me, rest my hands on the side pod of his car, then allow myself to caress it for a moment. I can practically feel the horsepower leap beneath my fingers. ‘I want to see you drive.’

He inhales sharply. ‘Say it again.’

I do.

And the look he gives me could melt steel.

19

RENZO

‘I will,’ I murmur, my mouth brushing her ear, ‘if you take off your panties and give them to me. Right now.’

Giada goes crimson so fast it’s almost audible – a blooming rush of colour that shoots straight to my cock.

Her head whips around. ‘Renzo⁠—’

My single sharp whistle disperses the crew in seconds. I turn back to her, brow arched. ‘Quid pro quo, sweetheart. I promise you a ride. You trade me the scrap of silk hugging that sweet pussy. Fair trade.’

She swallows, trembling not with fear, but with the kind of anticipation that makes her thighs press together.

Then, slowly… slowly… she looks around again, and when she sees we’re alone, she reaches under her dress.

I watch every second of it, the parting of her knees, the soft bite of her lip, the way her breath stutters as she works the fabric down. Off one heeled foot, then the other.

Then she places the warm scrap of lace into my palm.

I lift it to my nose, inhale once, sharp and deep. Fucking heaven.

I slide them into my pocket like a weapon. ‘Good girl,’ I say, voice low enough to vibrate through her. ‘Now come watch me show off.’

* * *

We might bicker and we might butt heads like brothers do, but one thing I’ll always be eternally grateful to Cesare for is enabling this dream to come true.

The Furia racing track he had built in Monza is absolutely world class.

And today when the world sharpens and my engine screams and the air tastes like fuel and speed, I want to howl just for the sheer exhilaration of it.

My girl’s gaze is glued to me like a brand as I strap in, and something dark and triumphant wakes in my chest.

She wants to see me drive?