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“You are unbelievable, Lazzaro Rosetti. I’m not telling you where my pills are, and I’m not going to stop taking them.”
His smile grows wicked. “C’mon. You love being bad with me.”
“That’s not bad, that’s insane! I could get pregnant.”
He groans and slants his mouth over mine. “That’s so hot. I want you pregnant. Have my baby and let’s run away together.”
I try to tell him off, but he grasps the nape of my neck and parts my lips with his tongue, invading my mouth with the determination of a man who’s going to get what he wants.
When he fists the waistband of my shorts and pulls them tight against my clit, I moan into his mouth. “You’re too much.”
“I’ll ease it in. I’ll be gentle.”
He starts to pull my shorts and underwear down. “I’m not talking about your dick. I mean youreverything. Your attitude. Your ego. Your crazy ideas.”
Laz gets me out of my clothes and cups my ass in his large hands, pressing me against his hard cock. We’re going to get caught. We’re so going to get caught, and we’re going straight to hell, or to the bottom of the lake with concrete boots or wherever terrible people go when they do things that are really bad.
And wrong.
Andtwisted.
Laz presses kisses to my throat, and putting his lips against my ear, he says in a hot, breathy murmur, “Let me fuck you in your bed while your mom is out. I want to blow my load in this pretty snatch of yours.”
Mom could come home any minute. I picture myself bent over the mattress with both hands over my mouth while Laz screws me firmly and thoroughly from behind, his large hands gripping my waist. The fact that we could get caught, the idea of doing something so reckless, has short-circuited my brain.
He walks me back toward the bed, and I know that as soon as he unzips his jeans he’s going to be inside me. My core turns molten at the thought as we fall back together on the mattress.
My phone buzzes next to my head and I glance at the screen out of the corner of my eye. There’s a message from Mom. Well, shit. This can’t be good.
“Wait a sec,” I tell Laz breathlessly, and pick my phone up and hold it up before my face.
Please wear your red slip dress at dinner on Wednesday night. Put some makeup on and do something nice with your hair.
Why?I send back, though I think I already know the answer.
Fabrizio Rosetti is coming to dinner with one of his bachelor friends. Drago Lastra.
I must look horrified because Laz grabs my phone from me and reads the screen.
“Drago Lastra?” he exclaims, his voice ringing in the silence of my bedroom. “That fucking predator?”
“Who’s Drago Lastra?”
His lip curls. “Only one of coldest, most vicious bastards I’ve ever met. Jesus Christ, your mom must know his reputation. It’s like she wants you to get eaten alive, the cruel bitch.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe she does. I think she hates me because she knows I ruined her party.”
“That stupid party.” He takes my phone from my hand and tosses it onto the nightstand. “That goddamn woman. I don’t want you thinking about either right now.”
He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, makes a V with his forefinger and middle and points them in his eyes. “Focus on me.”
My gaze drifts down his perfect, tattooed body.
God, if he insists.
He pulls off my T-shirt and his jeans and then we’re naked together, pressed against each other tightly with our legs tangled together.
I capture Laz’s face in my hands and whimper, “Fuck me like I’m yours.”
