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“No,” he quickly interrupts, “it isn’t that. I just don’t like that you call yourself a stripper. Dancer is enough.” Lorenzo’s frown matches mine for a moment before deepening with frustration. “Actually, no, I don’t want to call you a dancer, either. You’re never going back there, Havana.”
I’d forgotten about his possessive streak. I don’t know how; he was just saying these words a few minutes ago. But good food will clear a person’s mind, and a charming smile will make you forget your worries. “I have to go back, Lorenzo. Dancing at Mustangs is one of the ways I make money to pay for my dad’s cancer treatments, my student loans, my rent.” I could rattle off bills for three days and never reach the end.
Lorenzo puts a hand on each side of the counter around me and looks me in the eyes. “I’ll pay those bills,” he says sternly. “You aren’t going back there, Havana. And you aren’t putting anything up on your OnlyFans anymore, either.”
It feels like my heart stops beating. One second passes, then another. “How do you know about my OnlyFans?” The only person I’ve ever told about OF is my best friend.
His jaw sets, and a minute goes by in silence before he admits, “My brother and I looked you up. You go by the same name on the site that you do at Mustangs. It wasn’t difficult to locate you.”
I open my mouth to tell him that that’s not appropriate behavior, but then I close it just as fast. Nothing is appropriate about this relationship. Not how we met. Not how he’s followed me for the last six months. Not how he forced me from the club with a gun in hand. Not how he corners me in the kitchen. “That’s a bulk of my bill-paying money.” I force the words from my mouth.
“Like I said, you aren’t putting anything up on your site anymore. I can’t stand the thought of other men looking at what’s mine.” Lorenzo growls like a territorial dog. The way he looks at me with a glimmer of anger in his eyes makes me wonder if he’s mad at me or the situation.
I want to carefully extract myself before he attacks, but there’s nowhere to go. I can’t back up; there’s a cabinet and the wall only a few inches away. I can’t move to the left or the right because his arms encircle me. I can’t go forward unless I plan to go through Lorenzo. “You can’t keep me here,” I whisper. “I barely know you.”
“You’ll get to know me,” he replies with a shrug.
Frustration sweeps over me. “Lorenzo, I would love to get to know you. You seem like a wonderful guy and certainly someone I’d date, but—”
His lips press against mine, cutting me off before I can finish my sentence. He tastes like warmth and security; I taste like butter and cheese. But I can’t deny my anger at him taking me, touching me, holding me here against my will. I bite his bottom lip to force him away and it backfires.
My teeth dig into the soft epidermis of his lip until I taste blood. The metallic liquid tickles my taste buds for a second before I feel Lorenzo’s fingers wrap around my jaw. He presses tightly against the hinges of my mouth until I release him and my lips part.
“Good girl,” he says with a glare, “but I don’t take kindly to being bitten. Do you want to apologize now,” he pauses, “or later?” His tone is threatening, but it also makes my heart skip a beat.
Nice, sweet Lorenzo Riva is already attractive. He has money and he isn’t stingy with it. He asks about my day. He plies me with compliments. He is gentle with me.
But the Lorenzo Riva with his hand curled firmly around my jaw is a completely different man. He exudes power and strength—the ability to crush his fingers together and break my bones in his hand. The threatening tone of his voice makes my insides churn with desire. “What happens between now and later?” I squeeze the words past the stress in my jaw.
Lorenzo leans forward to drag his tongue across my clavicle. “Anything I want,” he whispers against my skin.
I should fight to make him take me home. I should argue with him until he gets so frustrated that he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. I should make a run for it.
Everything in my brain is telling me that the answer isn’t what he wants it to be. The answer is getting the hell out of here before I become a dangerous man’s victim.
But I succumb to what he wants because it feels good. When he loosens his grip on my jaw, it’s to place his hand firmly on my back and pull me in closer. The pain of his touch is replaced by a bite of his own. He drags his teeth across the delicate flesh of my neck until a dentist could make a 3D rendering from the marks left behind.
Push him away,says the little voice in my head.
The devil on my shoulder says to pull him closer and slip under the waters with him. And it’s hard to say no to the devil when he’s pushing me toward something that feels so damn good.
11
LORENZO
Iam not gentle with Havana. I don’t hold her tenderly while we softly kiss before falling into bed and making love. I give her all I’ve got.
When she doesn’t apologize for biting my lip, I take it as a sign. Maybe she wants me, maybe she doesn’t, but she’s willing to let me have her for the night. If that’s all the time I get with her, then it’s enough for now.
I drag her off the counter and wrap those gorgeous, long legs around my waist. The sudden jarring movement causes her to grab me. With her arms around my neck, we’re pressed together like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I squeeze her ass through the tiny little skirt she wears and thank God for giving me the core of my desires. I’ve wanted this woman for months, and now that I have her, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. “Hold on, gorgeous.”
The stairs are a bitch to maneuver with her wrapped around me like a sweater, but I don’t care. I’d ascend the tallest staircase in the world with her riding on my back the whole way if that’s what I had to do.
She grips me tighter as each step jostles her from one side to the other. The hint of excitement I saw on her face a few moments ago is replaced with the fear that I might let her go and she’ll tumble down a flight of stairs.
For once, I’m glad there isn’t anyone in my house. Usually, an uncle, cousin, or friend stays in some room or another. When they hear someone puttering around downstairs, they come to check it out. The Riva family is full of nosy neighbors and busy-bodies who can’t keep their curiosity to themselves. But the last thing I need today is someone asking who Havana is. It isn’t foresight that caused me to bring her here on the most boring day of the year; it’s luck.
