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Aaaargh.
Cesare only chuckles as I shove him away, and he rises gracefully to his towering height while I jump out of the chair like a toddler who's just starting to learn how to walk.
"Mm..."Cesare manages to run his knuckles down my cheek before I'm able to slap his hand away. "Your face feels very hot,tesoro."
"Because I'm...I'mmad,not embarrassed!" It's a lie, of course, but I just want to save some face for once. "So don't you flatter yourself—-" I break off with a squeak of surprise when he suddenly scoops me off my feet and carries me out of the room.
"Let me down!"
"Relax," he says soothingly. "I'm only taking you to your room."
"I said let me go!"
I continue to struggle even as we make it to the stairs, but I'm unfortunately no Allah to make mountains move.
"I am only doing this to make it up to you, my Penelope. It was not my intention to make you mad." His tone is soft and cajoling, and every word he utters weakens my defenses.
Oh no.
Here we go again—-
"Mi può perdonare, tesoro?Will you forgive me?"
My mind wants to continue resisting him, but the rest of me has already given up. My senses are once again tingling at the lovely and now-familiar scent of his aftershave, and instead of beating his chest and doing my best to wriggle out of his hold, my arms have tightened around his neck while my breasts start to swell and ache.
Oh boy.
Maybe it's time to just throw in the towel and admit the painful truth: I'm putty in this man's hands, and as if I didn't have enough proof of that as it is—-
Ugh.
We've finally reached the second floor, and I actually feelabandonedinstead ofliberatedwhen Cesare gently lowers me to my feet at the end of the hallway.
"Your room,tesoro..."
He opens the door for me, but before I can take a look at it, he's pushed me up against the wall, and a shudder rocks my body as it comes into contact with the erotic hardness of his length.
Magnetic dark eyes glitter down at me, and the urge to pull his head down for another kiss is so, so tempting...I end up curling my fingers tightly into fists against my sides.
"You haven't given me an answer yet," he chides softly.
"You're forgiven," I say hastily, "so can you please let me—-"
"One last question."
I look at him warily. "What?"
"Will you dream of me tonight?"
Yes. For sure. Duh.
But since I do have some pride left, I lift my chin up and lie without a single ounce of hesitation. "Nope."
"Then you lied about forgiving me. Does that mean you are still mad?"
"What if I say I am?"
A cocky smirk flirts with his lips ever so briefly, but the ephemeral sight is still enough to make my womanly parts throb achingly to life.
