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“I don’t.” Now that he’s not chasing me anymore, I don’t want Leo to leave. Not even for a second, and definitely not for those stupid shoes.
I trace a fingertip along the edge of his waistcoat, up, up to the swell of his chest.
“You’re very chiseled.” He’s rock solid under these clothes. Carved from marble. A body like this must take a lot of discipline—more than I’d associated with him in my mind.
Another flash of white teeth. “Thank you.”
“Do you go to the gym?” Now I’m just chatting shit, trying to keep him close, trying to keep him talking. And Leo sees right through me, because he snorts.
“Yes, Mia. I’ll send you my routine. If you ever come back to me, we can do sit ups together.”
Okay, I want to touch him more. I’m gonna do it. Holding my breath, I flatten my whole palm on the kingpin’s chest, spreading my hand directly over his heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It’s racing, slamming against my palm.
“It beats for you,” he says conversationally, like you can just drop a statement like that on a girl. “Before I saw you, everything hurt. Everything had jagged edges. You soothed me, princess. You showed there was a space for me in the world.”
My eyes sting. I can’t breathe.
Why oh why did I ban him from touching me? It’s such a Mia Serpico thing to do, to lash out and draw battle lines; to put my pride on the line and make it impossible to back down.
Now I’dkillfor this man to kiss me. On the cheek, on the tip of my nose, anywhere. And he can’t.
Nice going, Mia.
Leo swallows when I cup his cheek. His jaw is bristly with stubble, but he must have been clean shaven at the church yesterday morning. How did his cheek feel then?
My legs ache as I shuffle to my knees. It’s been a long, hard day, and my body’s feeling it. I sprinted barefoot along paving stones; I practically fell out of that freaking church window. I skipped meals and fled the city, fueled only by adrenaline and fear.
Maybe that’s why I sway forward, bracing myself against Leo’s broad chest. Maybe that’s why I keep cupping his cheek, and slide the other hand up to grip his shoulder.
“Can I kiss you?” I’ve never sounded so unsure.
But Leo huffs. “It’s like you don’t listen to a word I say.Yes, Mia. Kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me. Throw me off this train—just do it with a smile on your face.”
So dramatic. My knees throb as I lean forward.
My lips brush the kingpin’s. Softly at first, then firmer. More sure. A shudder wracks through his strong body, followed by a low groan.
Yeah.
Yeah, this is good. I may not really know what I’m doing, may have been cosseted and kept naive by my family, but even I know this heat, this surge of longing, is surely a good sign. My heart’s tripping faster and my stomach is clenching, andgod, Leo smells good, even after chasing me through the city. It’s not fair. I probably smell like sweat and the cab driver’s week-old fries.
Sliding one hand around his neck, I kiss him again. His dark curls are thick and soft.
And he’s—he’sstandingthere, rigid and unmoving. Taking my kiss but not returning it. His chest heaves under his shirt, and his eyes are burning into mine, but he won’t break our agreement. Won’t touch me uninvited.
I lean back, thwarted and too hot. “Leo. Kiss me back.”
A crooked smile. “Beg me.”
“It—it doesn’t count,” I say, making up a new rule on the spot. “This is your mouth, not your hands. It’s a different situation. Our agreement was about your hands—”
Leo Palladino lunges forward with a snarl, capturing my mouth with his. And he’sstarving, ravenous, consuming me whole, letting that feral wolf peek through beneath the moon. Plundering my mouth with his lips and teeth and tongue. And I arch against him, unpracticed, but determined to give as good as I get.
I like this new rule.
