Instantly Lorenzo’s expression turned thunderous. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Where do you think? I’m going home.”
“Why?” He came to his feet in one fluid movement, his hands on the table, his eyes gone silver. “Because you’re afraid? Afraid of what? Of me?”
There was no point in trying to control herself now, not when she’d well and truly lost it, so Kira didn’t even bother. “Yes, of course I’m afraid of you, you asshole. You’ve been nothing but cold and mean and cruel. You hurt me, Lorenzo.” She was shaking now, and she couldn’t stop. She was always like this when her emotions overwhelmed her. “And I can’t have people who hurt me in my life right now. I can’t deal with people who mess with my feelings, period.”
His gaze turned fierce, lightning in his eyes, silver and jagged. “Yes, I judged you. Yes, I was wrong. And I’m sorry I hurt you. What more do you want?”
But she couldn’t bear it. She had to get away from him, had to put some distance between them, find her control again. Her emotions were hurricane winds, and she was going to be blown apart if she wasn’t careful.
She turned and started heading for the door to the stairs, her vision blinded by the tears she couldn’t control, hating herself for losing it like this, for making a complete fucking mess of the situation, the way she always did.
But before she’d taken more than a couple of steps, strong hands grabbed her by the hips, and she was jerked back against the hard wall of Lorenzo’s chest. “I didn’t say you could go,” he growled in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.
She tried to pull away, the heat of him making her strangely frantic. “I don’t care what you said. Let me go.”
His hands tightened, turning her to face him. Then one arm slid around her waist, heavy as an iron bar, while his other hand was in her hair, pulling her head back. And then his mouth was on hers, hot and fierce. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stealing any protests, stopping all her arguments, forcing her to focus on one thing and one thing only: him.
His kiss became harder, hotter. Forceful. Demanding. Taking her mouth with a concentrated mastery that gave no quarter, allowed no escape. His hand in her hair tightened while the arm around her waist dropped, his palm sliding over her butt, cupping her through the silk of her dress, pulling her even more firmly against him.
She could feel the hard press of his erection against her groin and the stunning of heat of his body, like a furnace warming her, setting her alight. He was all around her, his hand in her hair and his tongue claiming her mouth, holding her so tightly.
She could taste his passion and something else that she thought was desperation, and all the whirling, bewildering emotions began to stop and slow. Began to draw tight. A shudder went through her. He drew her head back even further, his kiss turning even deeper, ravaging her mouth like a marauder.
The shudder became a shake as the hard knot of emotion changed into something far more recognizable, something she knew she shouldn’t give into, not again. Yet she was powerless to stop it as all that feeling erupted into a blaze of need that incinerated what little control she had left, burning it to ashes.
Kira lifted her hands without a second’s thought, shoved them into Lorenzo’s short black hair and held on, returning the kiss with a ferocity and a demand equal to his own. He made a growling sound in his throat, ramping her desire higher, hotter.
She came up on her toes, clinging to him, pressing herself against him, kissing him wildly, the most intense heat sweeping over her skin. It felt as if she was burning alive and he was a cool mountain lake she wanted to dive into to put out the flames.
It wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing. None of it was. She was supposed to be in control of these emotional storms, to not let them affect her thinking or her decision-making processes. And yet there was no control to be had. It was gone.
He had taken it.
She became frantic, biting at his lower lip, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching against him, searching vainly for relief from the intensity of the feeling, for some way to escape it. But there was no escape. He was everywhere, and she was drowning in him.
He made another rough sound and then she was being lifted into his arms and they were moving, Lorenzo taking a few steps back until his chair was behind him. Then he sat down, carrying her with him so she was sitting in his lap, facing him.
Kira barely noticed. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, pulling at them as she kissed him over and over again, tasting the champagne he’d been drinking, tasting the heat that burned between them. God, she had to touch him, put her hands on his skin.
Something tore as she grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, but she didn’t stop. She wanted him, oh God, she needed his touch, his hands, his cock. Now. Now.
Strong fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding her still. “Kira.” His voice was thick and rough and dark, making her shiver and shake like a tree in a hurricane. “Slow down.”
“No. I need to touch you.” She was panting, breathless, straining against his hold. “Please, Lorenzo. Please, please, please . . .”
The lines of his face had drawn tight, and he made no effort to hide the hunger in his eyes. And yes, there was the lightning, burning silver.
She wanted it to strike her. She wanted to be lit up, electrified.
“And you will get that.” His grip on her wrists tightened. “But I need you to slow down.”
She was shivering so badly she couldn’t stop. He was so damn hot, the heat of him seeping through the fine wool of his suit pants, scorching the bare skin of her inner thighs. He was so hard too, she could feel the flex and release of his muscles as she shifted on top of him, unable to sit still. She wanted to do so many things, to touch, to explore his body, taste him everywhere.
“I can’t.” Her voice was scratchy. “Please, I can’t. I can’t control this. I need you. I have to touch—”
His grip on her altered, one hand taking both her wrists and holding them easily, while he lifted his free hand, his finger pressing down on her mouth, stopping her words.
She froze, looking into the hurricane in his eyes, trembling all over.
“Yes,” he said, his voice flat with command. “You can.”
She was shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking, denial in every part of her, totally at the mercy of the desire that beat inside her and unable to hold onto it.
Lorenzo pulled her crossed wrists close, so she was leaning against his chest, his eyes burning into hers only inches away. “Yes,” he repeated, insistent. “You can.”
She sucked in a breath, feeling like she was on fire. Like if she didn’t move, didn’t get her hands on him, she was going to go up in flames, burn to ashes right here in this chair. “I don’t know how,” she croaked against his finger. “I can’t—”
“It’s very simple.” He lowered his finger, his gaze inescapable. “You give the control to me and I will do it for you.”
The words caught at her, resonated inside her. Lorenzo de Santis was a man who was never at the mercy of his emotions, who was never bewildered or overwhelmed by them. He was never distracted, and he always paid attention. He wouldn’t get blown away by the storm surrounding them. He would remain in control.
You can trust him.
She didn’t question the thought, didn’t even blink at it. She simply nodded her head as if giving him all the control was the most natural thing in the world.
“Good,” he murmured, that faint rough edge in his voice caressing her. “That’s a very good girl. Now, I want you to sit very still for me.”
The trembling hadn’t abated, the fire between her thighs, the hunger gripping her making it difficult to speak. “I can’t,” she forced out, panting. “I have to move. I have to.”
But he was unrelenting. “If you move, you won’t get what you want. So focus for me, Kira. Keep still, and you’ll get your reward.”
Her breathing
was coming in short hard gasps, the scratchy wool of his pants pressing against her inner thighs and the sensitive folds of her pussy, driving her insane. But she tried. She held his gaze as she stopped shifting and moving, the shakes becoming more intense the stiller she became.
He didn’t look away as he released her wrists, as if he knew she needed to maintain eye contact. And he didn’t look away as he grasped the neckline of her white silk dress then ripped the entire thing right down the middle.
She gasped as the warm air hit her feverish skin, the sudden violence of the movement and the sound of tearing fabric shocking her, exciting her further. “Lorenzo,” she whispered, her muscles tensing, wanting to move, forgetting what she’d promised him. But he remembered, because of course he did, and before she could do anything, he’d pushed the white silk from her shoulders and with a quick, deft movement, he guided her hands behind her back then wrapped the silk around her wrists, pulling it tight. Binding her.
A soft choked sound escaped her, but it wasn’t because she was scared. No, it was the opposite. The feeling of being constrained, of being contained, made her want to weep with relief. Now she wasn’t going to forget herself and touch him before she was supposed to, because every time she did the binding would pull tight in a subtle reminder. It was going to help her. It was going to make it easier. Boundaries always did.
He gripped her jaw in one hand, holding her still, his gaze pinning her in place. “Is that better?”
Kira couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod and blink back the tears of relief that stung her eyes.
He held her for a second longer, bending to deliver one hard, deep kiss, before letting go of her jaw and leaning back in the chair, watching her. His gaze was as hot as a blow torch as he scanned her body in one long, slow pass. Her skin tightened and prickled, her nipples gathering into hard little points, the throb of desire low and heavy between her thighs.
She could hardly sit still she was so desperate, but the binding around her wrists kept reminding her that she’d promised to, so she remained as still as she could while he took his time looking at her.
“Good girl.” He lifted one hand, his fingers brushing the hollow of her throat before trailing down. “Such a very good girl for me.”
Fire rippled out from his touch, racing over her skin, and she groaned at the sensation, made even more intense by the approval in his voice. It made her determined to do what he asked her. She could do this. She would.
His hand trailed lower, between her breasts and down over her stomach. “Keep very still now.” His gaze never left hers as his fingers moved lower and lower. “This is going to be difficult for you, but you can do this. I know you can.”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face, from the certainty in his eyes. Then those wandering fingers slid through the pale curls of her sex, finding the slick flesh that waited for him, and she shuddered, unable to stop from crying out as he stroked a leisurely finger down the center of her pussy and then back up again.
The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that her vision blurred, her throat closing up. “Lorenzo . . . Oh God . . .” Apparently, he hadn’t been kidding when he said it was going to be difficult for her. Because it was. Then it became even more difficult as he stroked her again, his finger moving over her, finding the hard nub of her clit and circling around and around.
A groan tore from her throat, every part of her aching to move, to grind herself down on his hand, to rip open his shirt, his pants, find his cock, find his bare skin. Lick him and kiss him and taste him. Gorge herself on him and the pleasure he was giving her.
But she’d promised him she wouldn’t move, and so she stayed as still as she could. “More . . .” The word was a hoarse scrape. “Please . . . I want . . . God, I want . . .”
“I know.” His voice was cool water running over her hot skin. “And I’ll give it to you. Just keep still a bit longer. Can you do that for me? Can you do that, beautiful girl?”
Her thighs were trembling. His touch was so slow, lazy almost. As if he had all the time in the world. And she had to clench her teeth against the vicious grip of pleasure, hold fast to her determination, to the core of stubborn strength that was somehow there inside her. She wasn’t going to move until he said she could. She just fucking wasn’t. She was going to succeed at this one thing even if it killed her.
Lorenzo shifted, moving his free hand into the small of her back, applying a touch of pressure that tilted her hips forward. Then he eased one finger inside her, pushing in deep.
A wail broke from her, her back arching, the silk pulling tight around her wrists as her arms jerked. Then he slid another finger inside her, stretching the delicate tissues of her sex, making her pant his name over and over again.
The pleasure was annihilating, the pressure of having to keep still making it more acute somehow. She felt afraid all of a sudden, of what might happen when this intensity broke, of being crushed beneath it or blown apart by it.
“L-Lorenzo,” she stuttered as his fingers slid in and out of her in a relentless driving movement. “Please . . . I can’t . . . hold on . . .”
And he must have seen her fear, because he sat forward, so his body was right up against hers, the tips of her hard nipples pressing against the cotton of his shirt, his gaze inches from her own. His palm at the small of her back pressed down, his fingers spreading out, holding her, supporting her as the fingers of his other hand thrust up inside her. “It’s okay.” That dark voice, cooling her, calming her. “You can let go now. You can lose control with me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Another moan tore from her throat as she obeyed him without thought, giving in to the devastating pleasure, to the need to move, shifting her hips in time with his hand, riding his fingers. Then his thumb found her clit, and she began to lose touch with reality entirely.
Words spilled out of her, desperate, begging words, and she let them, too far gone to care. “Please . . . Lorenzo. Please. I can’t . . . I need . . . I have to . . .”
His thumb slicked over her clit, again and again. “You need to come? Is that what you need?”
“Yes. Oh God, yes.”
His hand moved faster, his fingers pushing deeper, harder. The sheer ecstasy of it blinded her, crushed her, tore her apart.
She cried out as the unrelenting pressure became too much, feeling herself start to disintegrate, suddenly terrified. But his arm was iron around her waist, his hand in the small of her back an anchor, holding her down, grounding her.
Keeping her safe as the world exploded behind her eyes and the night around them echoed with the sound of her screams.
Chapter 9
Kira flung her head back and her spine arched, a scream of ecstasy escaping from her, heedless of the buildings around them and the fact that anyone might be watching. Lorenzo could feel the tight heat of her pussy grip his fingers, convulsing around him as she came. It was all he could do to hold himself still, to not claw at the zipper on his pants and get his cock out, plunge into all that slick heat.
He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. Her expression was incandescent, igniting with abandoned pleasure. She was a pale flame between his hands, all that electric energy he’d sensed in her set free, blazing into the night.
She’d given herself over to him, let him take the control, surrendered to the pleasure he’d given her, and he’d never seen anything so erotic, so mesmerizing in all his life.
He felt stunned. Like he’d been hit over the back of the head with a brick.
He hadn’t meant for it to end like this. He hadn’t meant for her to shove her chair back and walk out on him. And he certainly hadn’t meant to go after her, pull her into his arms and kiss her so savagely.
He’d been angry and for once the anger was directed where it should be—at himself. Because her confession had reminded him that he’d known something was up with her way back when she’d been a kid. But he’d never done anything about it. He’d never talked to Ivan, neve
r made sure she’d gotten help. And even now, years later, when she’d walked into his office, all he’d remembered were her behavioral issues. All he’d seen was a college dropout who still hadn’t handled herself, who’d caused a terrible accident that had killed people.
He hadn’t bothered to question himself as to whether those assumptions he’d made about her, those judgements, were right. No, he’d been arrogant and had simply assumed that they were.
Then he’d done what he’d sworn never to do to another woman ever again, not after he’d failed his mother, after he’d failed Katie. He’d hurt her.
He’d felt the shame of it eat away at him as Kira had flung it in his face, and when she’d gotten up to leave, all he’d been able to think about was stopping her, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her going without him being able to make it right.
It had been instinct that had made him grab her, because clearly she wasn’t going to stay to listen to him make a proper apology. But then she’d trembled in his arms and need had gathered tight inside him, a burning desire to soothe the hurt he’d given her, to make her feel better.
So he’d turned her in his arms and met the furious glow in her blue eyes, and he’d known in that moment there was only one thing she’d listen to. And it wasn’t his voice. So he’d kissed her. Hard.
She’d shuddered then blazed to life like a tree struck by lightning.
Control had been vital in that moment because all he’d wanted to do was throw her down onto the daybed and get inside her as quickly as he could. But this whole week he’d fallen back into old patterns, taking what he wanted without one fucking thought of her, and he didn’t want to do that now. He was supposed to not be so selfish anymore, which meant that if he wanted to soothe the hurt he’d caused, he had to make it about her.
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