Page 55 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

His big hands lock onto my hips like iron vices, lifting me clean off my feet. He hauls me up onto the wide stone railing before I can even blink. Stone bites through the thin silk of my dress, freezing the back of my thighs as my skirt bunches high, but the rest of me is burning up. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles tight behind his lower back to pull him hard against me.

"I still want to throw you off the balcony," I gasp against his lips.

He nips my lower lip with deliberate pressure while his palms secure my hips against the stone. "It's okay. You love arguing with me."

"I love winning," I whisper, yanking at his shirt until buttons pop off and bounce on the stone floor. I press my hands against his warm skin. "And right now, winning means you take me right here on this wall until I forget all about your locked doors."

He lets out a rough breath and bunches my dress up around my waist. His hand slips between my thighs, finding wet heat. "Is this what you want? You and me, no holding back, no saying sorry?"

"Yes. Stop talking and touch me," I breathe, arching against his palm.

He shucks his trousers down and hits my pussy in one hard shove, stretching me wide. Stone grates through silk against the base of my spine as my breath rips out in a sharp cry. His hips snap forward again, relentless and heavy. Fingers claw into the dark wool of his shoulders, skin slicking with sweat under the chill breeze while the terrace railing digs straight into my tailbone.

"Keep your eyes on me," he commands through clenched teeth.

I do. His eyes are wild. Open. Mine must look the same.

"This is not me owning you," he grits out between heavy, bruising thrusts. "This is me choosing you while you choose me back. Tell me."

I lock my ankles behind his back as the friction builds to an unbearable peak. "I choose you! Even when you're arrogant. Even when you drive me insane. I choose you."

He kisses me like he's sealing a vow and a threat at once. His hand slides between us, thumb circling with filthy precision. Pleasure coils tight and vicious. I come first, clenching around him, biting his shoulder to stay quiet. He follows with a rough sound that might be my name, burying himself deep and holding there while aftershocks roll through both of us.

We stay locked together, breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine again. Softer this time.

He pushes damp hair away from my face. "I will try. To ask you first. To give you space. But I won't stop keeping you safe. Meet me halfway."

I run shaking fingers through his dark hair, trying to catch my breath. "Halfway. But if you move my room again without asking me, I'm burning your fancy black suits."

His lips press against my temple, curving into a real smile. "Deal."

I hold on tighter and let the night hold us both.

Chapter 21

NORA

Barely an hour ago, Luca and I were standing on his private terrace under the warm night breeze. We finally dropped our guard, talked like two real human beings, and wound up tangled together against the stone balustrade in the dark. It felt like a rare truce in the middle of a war.

Now the first rifle shot cracks past the east wall, and that fragile peace shatters into dust. The security sirens begin to wail. Before my brain catches up, Luca grabs my upper arm and shoves me hard behind a thick marble pillar, treating me like dead weight that needs saving.

Luca hauls me back by the crook of my elbow, yanking a sleek Beretta from under his jacket like it was born there. "Stay down."

I grab his sleeve anyway. "Where the hell do you think you're going? You look like you're about to cosplay action hero and I hate that movie."

He snorts, a sharp, humorless sound that makes me want to kick his shin. "Then don't watch the fucking sequel." He peels my fingers off his sleeve and vanishes into the smoke, Matteo and Adrian reach him like attack dogs off the leash.

I break from behind the pillar and bolt toward the archway. Gunfire rattles through the stone corridor, sharp and deafening, and the stink of burned gunpowder burns my nostrils. Ahead in the open courtyard, Enzo drops to one knee behind the marble basin, firing blind past the spray. A figure in black slips around the rim, raising a handgun straight at Enzo's spine. I grab a heavy clay flower pot off the railing, hoist the weight with both arms, and heave it. The pot cracks hard against the side of his skull with a sickening crunch. The shooter crumples face-first into the wet gravel and stays still.

Enzo spins to cover me with his weapon up. "Nice arm. You free next weekend? We could use a new pitcher."

"Fuck your baseball metaphors and duck," I shout back. Another round sparks off the stone near my hip. I drop, heart trying to climb out of my throat.

Muzzle flash cuts the dark along the colonnade. Luca steps clear of the arches, weapon up, firing twice with steady, mechanical rhythm. Two men drop against the gravel. A rifle cracks from the hedge line; Luca's left shoulder jerks hard, fabric tearing open as wet red soaks through his collar. His right arm stays locked, squeezing off three rapid rounds into the bushes until the rifle clatters against flagstones and the remaining boots scramble back toward the tree line.

The courtyard goes dead except for the hiss of the shattered fountain. Luca lowers his weapon, chest heaving in ragged hitches. His boots scuff the gravel as his frame tilts sideways. His jaw clamps shut, fighting the drop, but his knees give out beneath him and fold toward the dirt.

"Luca!" I bolt across the flagstones. Matteo catches him under the arms before his head hits stone. There is too much blood, far too much crimson for someone who was lecturing me about deadbolts two hours ago.