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I shake my head and go to stand from the table, but I’m stopped in my tracks as Niccolò’s firm grip latches around my forearm. I make a move to yank my arm away, but I’m met with nothing but resistance and a shooting pain in my arm.
“Sit the fuck down, Evelina.” His words etch into my skin, causing my stomach to spin. “We are not done here.”
That voice of his… Its deep, gritty, melodic cadence… It sets every nerve in my body on fire. It’s a reaction I try my best to push down, cancel out, erase, but to no avail. He tightens his grip on my skin, and I’m left with no choice but to sit down. Only, even when I’m sitting back in the metal chair, his grip is relentless.
Unforgiving.
So why do I not scream? Get pissed off? Kick him under the table?
Because I am somehow more turned on right in this moment than I have been since the last time he touched me. God, that pisses me off. It’s strange. So, so, so messed up. But the pain he’s inflicting on me makes me feel as if I could succumb to something. I could just let go and allow myself to be swallowed whole.
I shift in my seat, searching for friction as he loosens his grip slightly.
Each time I fantasized about the man in front of me over the past few months, I told myself that if and when I saw him again, I would get my shit under control and not let him affect me.
But it’s no use.
“Are you going to keep your ass in that chair until I’m finished with you?” he asks, and I want to make a smartass remark.
I want to. I shouldn’t. But—
“You probably would finish just by looking at me, wouldn’t you?” I ask, unable to control my snarky mouth.
His smirk is gone when I look into his eyes, and the playful look that was once there is replaced by something entirely different. His stare is already dark. A dark brown with flecks of deep, golden honey. But right now, it’s somehow justthatmuch darker. I search his eyes for where the small amount of light that’s usually within him has gone to, but I come up empty.
“Don’t fuck with me, Evelina, or I’ll show you exactly where I’d like to finish,” he says. “Again.”
He starts to move away, letting go of my arm, but as if he thinks better of it, he stays in place. The warmth from his fingers wrapped around my flesh disappears, and the absence hits me harder than it should.
I shouldn’t want him.
Idon’twant him.
I don’t.
I do not.
But I wouldn’t mind letting him use and abuse me if I’ll feel anything like I did before. I shake my head, unwilling to let myself linger in this space. This dangerous fucking space.
“I don’t mind letting you hang out here,” he says. “If you refuse my offer, I’ll just get another dozen men, and they can hang out here with you, protect you, until you change your mind. I’m giving you a choice, Evelina.”
His words make me laugh.
It’s not a cute, simple laugh, but rather a full-blown psychotic laugh that gets the best of me. Does this man seriously think I’m getting a choice?
“A choice?” I ask, exasperated. “A choice, Niccolò? When a choice is referred to, usually there’s a good outcome and a bad outcome involved, but in this scenario we just have bad and worse.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and I shrug.
I can want to let this man do nasty, dirty things to me and also dislike him.
He stalked me in my own store like he couldn’t get enough of me and then left me stranded in a damn forest. Group of trees.Whatever.
I can’t help it. It’s something in my cracked and faulty man-made armor.
I’ve never trusted men, not after what happened when I was younger, and somehow Enzo got under my skin enough to make me think he was different. I refuse to make that mistake again.
In fact, this is exactly how it started with Enzo, too. This insane sexual attraction. Him being forward and cocky and taking no shit, and me falling for it, thinking I’d finally have someone who matched what I wanted in a partner.
