Page 13

"Mr. Moretti... I..."

I knelt in front of her, kept my eyes slightly below hers so I wouldn't loom over her.

"Drink this. It'll help." I handed her the glass, kept my voice soft.

She held the cup with both hands, obediently took a few sips. I watched her trembling lashes, the fragility in her eyes she couldn't hide—the fear of being rejected again.

I reached out, thumb gently wiping away another tear from her eye.

She nodded, hands twisting together anxiously, fingertips ghostly pale. "I'm sorry, Mr. Moretti... I'm causing you trouble."

"Listen, girl." I cut off her apology, fingers sliding slowly onto her bare knee, then inching upward.

I felt her body jerk at my touch.

"I'm not some kind priest who brings drunk girls home in the middle of the night just to pour them honey water." I leaned in slightly, locked eyes with her. "I brought you here because I fucking want you. I want to pin you on this couch, or that bed, and completely devour you."

She gasped, eyes widening slightly, apparently shocked by my crude directness.

"But I have rules." I stopped moving, thumb resting on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, stroking lightly. "I never force women. And I don't touch girls who are too drunk to think straight and will regret it in the morning."

I stared into her eyes, didn't miss a single flicker of emotion.

"So this is your last chance to back out, sweetheart." I dropped my voice lower. "Stand up from this couch right now, walk out that door, and I'll get you home safe. Tonight never happened. I won't be offended, and you won't feel embarrassed."

The air seemed to freeze. I saw the struggle in her eyes, the retreat, the fear of the unknown.

But I didn't rush her. For special people, I always made exceptions.

"But if you stay..." I leaned closer, watched that poor sweet face turn visibly terrified, "tonight you belong to me completely. No matter how much you cry or beg later, I won't stop. You clear on that?"

She bit her lower lip hard, almost drawing blood. I pressed my thumb to her chin. "Don't do that to yourself, sweetheart."

She froze. After ten full seconds of dead silence, she released her poor lip, took a deep breath, and nodded—slowly but absolutely certain.

"Take me. Please."

Her voice was quiet but no longer shaking.

"As you wish, tesoro."

I smiled slightly, didn't say another word, stood and gathered her into my arms, and walked steadily toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

I'd dimmed the bedroom lights to almost nothing. I laid her gently on the charcoal silk sheets. She clenched her fists nervously, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes squeezed shut.

I knelt at the edge of the bed, reached behind her, and found the cold metal zipper.

"If anything hurts, tell me," I murmured reassurance, slowly pulling the zipper down.

When that annoying sparkle dress came off, and that fire-red lace lingerie was completely exposed, my eyes darkened involuntarily.

Fuck.

Red was perfect on her. Her full, generous curves wrapped in lace radiated a classical, devastatingly beautiful quality like an oil painting. I'll admit, in that instant, the destructive urge in male nature made me want to just rip those fragile fabrics apart.

But I held back. I noticed she was trembling slightly, even unconsciously raising her hands to cover the soft flesh at her waist and thighs.

"Don't hide, cara." I caught her wrists, kissed them softly, then pinned her hands above her head. "Do you have any idea how fucking tempting you look right now? Every single curve on your body is perfectly shaped to drive men completely insane."