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“You wanted my attention, or rather, more of my attention. It wasn’t enough that I rescued you from those bastards in a raging storm, then took you to safety and came up with a plan to get you out of this mess.”
As her face blushed red, he put his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.
“You want to believe I’m for real, but a part of you doesn’t believe any of this, or me, for that matter, but I can’t keep proving myself. I understand the world you come from, and I—”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
Though she’d muttered the words under her breath, he’d heard them.
“You’re wrong, I do,” he said firmly, gripping a handful of hair and tugging it back. “I know it well. You like Sammy because he’s an outsider. There’s no pretense around him. He is who he is. Right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Guys like Matteus, a so-called detective leading a double life, they make you sick, and Brian Mancini walks around in polished shoes and Hugo Boss suits, but he’d stab you in the back and steal your money. How am I doing so far?”
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“I’m real, Bianca,” he said softly. “What you see is what you get. Don’t test me again.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you’re not sorry, and you don’t have to be. Like I said, I get it, but no more bullshit,” he warned, then tightening his fingers around her hair, he leaned in and kissed her.
* * *
As Nick slowly brushed his lips against Bianca’s mouth, her heart skipped, her knees almost buckled, and an indescribable feeling rippled through her body. Suddenly stepping back and yanking the drapes closed, he swept her up, carried her to the bed, and hastily stripped off her clothes. Breathlessly watching him remove his shorts, her eyes fell on his stiffened cock, staying there as he climbed over her and straddled her waist. But only a second passed before he placed his knees between her legs, pushed them apart, then dropped his hands on either side of her head.
Towering over her, he seemed bigger than life, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. She thought he was about to speak, but he began nuzzling her neck, sending sparks of tingling pleasure through her limbs. As he began kissing his way down to her breasts, she raised her chest to meet his mouth, and when he hungrily drew in her nipples, one after the other, she let out a long, low moan.
“Are you wet?” he murmured, raising his head. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she panted, the surprise question catching her off guard.
“Do you want my cock?”
“You know I do.”
“Yes or no,” he repeated gruffly. “Do you want my cock?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, wriggling beneath him. “I do—so much—more than I can say.”
“When was the last time you had sex?”
“What?”
“Answer me—the truth,” he growled, suddenly lowering his mouth to her ear. “Tell me. How long ago?”
Her forehead crinkled. She didn’t want to answer him, but in a flash he had grabbed her wrists and was jerking them above her head.
“I’m waiting,” he pressed, tightening his grasp.
“Ages,” she managed.
“A year, two, three?”
“Why?”
“Answer me or this ends.”
