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And I should be doing everything I can to stop it. Because this is only going to end in heartbreak.
Yet, here I am, taking her to one of my favorite places in the city to eat. Where I can blend in with other diners. Although, right now, blending in is the last thing we’re doing in our attire.
I hand Bianca her sandwich, and we walk over to the water’s edge. I watch her take a bite and see her eyes roll back in pleasure. My body buzzes in response. What I would give to be the one to make her eyes roll back like that.
Then she starts moaning as she takes another mouthful, and fuck, I feel those moans right along the length of my cock.
I clear my throat. Trying to vanquish thoughts of what I could do to make her moan that way. “Good?”
“You’re right, these are the best sandwiches,” she says around a mouthful.
“So is this where you take all your dates?” she asks. “Or am I special?”
You’re special, I agree before I can shove the thought away.
“I don’t date,” I say instead.
“Oh, that’s right.” She takes another bite, and a dollop of ricotta sits on her lips, and I almost groan because of the ache I feel to lick it off.
The reckless part of me is tempted. To say to hell with it, and take this one moment in a sea of moments, and just kiss her again.
I kissed her earlier to prove a point to her nasty friends. I didn’t do it to show them Bianca was better than them, because she does that naturally; no, I just wanted to piss them off because of the way they treated her.
Now, if I kiss her, it would be because I want her to be mine for the night, and I can’t do that to her.
Every moment for the next fifteen is torture, her moans and licking lips going straight to my groin. I’m almost relieved when we have both finished our sandwiches.
She’s quiet on the drive home.
I park the Audi in the parking garage and ride the elevator with her to the loft. But at the door, I stop.
“This is where I have to tell you good night.”
She looks surprised. “You don’t want to come in.”
The way she says it tells me she wants me to come in for more than a nightcap.
And fuck, I want to do that more than I want to breathe.
But tonight, I saw her shed her vulnerability, and I don’t want to be responsible for taking that away from her when she finds out I’m not the nice guy she thinks I am.
She takes my hand. “I had a great time tonight, and I’m not ready for it to end. I’d really like you to come inside and spend the rest of it with me.”
Jesus.
I am so fucking tempted.
But I won’t do that to her.
No matter how hard it is to say no.
In a surge of unexpected emotion, I’m hijacked by a need to unburden my soul and come clean. To let her know why she really doesn’t want me to come inside. “Bianca, there’s something you need to know—”
She puts her finger across my lips and looks up at me with big eyes. “Stop talking.”
She kisses me and I can’t fight her sweet lips. She’s so soft and delicious, and I’m barely hanging on by a fucking thread.
And thank God for small mercies because my phone rings, forcing me to bring the kiss to an end.
I should ignore it, but I don’t, because it’s the only thing standing between me and kissing her all the way to the bedroom and ripping that gown from her body and spending the night worshipping those luscious curves.
I answer my phone, and Matteo begins updating me on something that could’ve waited until morning. If he wasn’t saving me from making a grave mistake, I would be pissed.
I hang up and return my focus to Bianca.
“It’s probably a good thing,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “I had a great night tonight, Massimo. Thank you for my Cinderella moment.”
“You’re welcome, but I should go.”
There is so much I want to say to her in this moment.
I fucked up.
You don’t need to dance for me in the peep show.
You should run as far as you can from me.
But I say none of it. Instead, I brush a kiss to her soft cheek.
“Good night, little monster.”
And using all my strength, I walk away.
34
BIANCA
The next day, I’m sitting in the office with Eve when Natalie puts her head in the doorway.
“You’ve got a visitor,” she says to me with an unimpressed look on her face.
“Who?”
“I don’t know, someone who looks like you. But you know, different.”
“Did she give you a name?”
“What am I, your secretary?”
Leaving my desk, I follow her downstairs to the club, but when I see who is waiting for me at the bar, I stop suddenly. Natalie notices and turns around.
