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Glancing over her shoulder, she crashes into a small table, the tempered glass of the lamp resting upon it falling to the floor in a flurry of broken shards.
She swears under her breath but doesn’t stop. She rushes toward the front door, searching for an escape.
Darting around the sofa, I launch onto her coffee table, ignoring the way the wood cracks under my weight as I leap toward her.
Wrenching the front door open, she slams it shut behind her, but I slide my hand against the frame just in time. It crashes against my knuckles, but I don’t feel the pain. I’m too focused on my prize. Too eager to seize and conquer. The door bounces back open, and I step over the threshold.
Sia hesitated for a second too long, head turning left and right. She’s searching for safety, but that need has become her downfall. She pulls in a sharp breath, then darts to the right, but I’m on her heels.
And she knows it.
She grunts in pain when the soles of her feet meet the thorns of her rose bushes, but she keeps going, the delicate flowers collateral damage to our hunt.
“Tesoruccio,” I whisper into the still night.
I have her where I want her.
She knows she can’t outrun me.
She stops.
I’m close enough that she can feel my breath on the nape of her neck, and she shivers.
I’m flirting with my own demise and toeing the line of hell. But if Alessia Bianchi is the definition of purgatory, why does this private moment feel like a promised land built only for me? Our forbidden rendezvous have morphed into my very bloodline. Initially, I believed it was the desire for anonymity. Then I discovered her identity and conceived our interactions tasted so sweet because I was dancing out of bounds. But the world could stand behind me, watching on, Salvatore Bianchi with a gun aimed at the back of my head, and I wouldn’t stop.
I need to touch her. I need to taste her. Even if it's the last thing I do.
Sia turns, and shocked by how close I am, she stumbles back.
She’s trapped, and I smile under my mask.
She shifts to the left, and I move with her.
“Do you think you could outrun me, Sia?”
“No,” she answers honestly. “But I could scream.”
I lean closer. “That’s the plan.”
She pushes back, slamming herself into the brick of her home.
I step into her, close enough that every breath she takes pushes her tits into my chest.
“Are you uncomfortable,tesoruccio?”
Something flashes in her eyes. A mixture of recognition and confusion and the frustration of having your answer close enough to taste but far enough away that you can’t grab it. “Idoknow you.”
I hum low in my throat and lean closer until my lips meet the shell of her ear. “If you ever call me a good boy again, I’ll bend you over in front of your brother and your men and show you how fuckinggoodI can be.”
I give her a beat of privacy before I pull back.
Her face flushes with realization, shock, and anticipation. Lifting a hand between us, she uses two fingers to slide down the black cover across my face. “Diego,” she whispers.
My name sounds so fucking good on her lips, and I can’t deny myself a taste. Without second-guessing, my hand finds her throat, and I push her back, enjoying the bite of pain that escapes her sinful mouth.
Dragging my bottom lip against hers, I inhale.
“I know the rules,tesoruccio.I know them, and I respect them. Say no, say it now, and it’ll kill me, but I’ll walk away.” I don’t even trust the words as I speak them. The underlying promise echoes my empty vow. We both know I’ll never walk away.
