Page 12 of Be With Me
But I was spent, scared, and it was starting to feel like he was playing with me.
A rough chuckle. “Not bad.”
“Can I go now?”
“I think I’m going to need you to moan my name a couple more times just to make sure you’ve got it right.”
My mouth formed an O. Hewasplaying with me. “You know, most men have to earn a woman moaning their name, and youdefinitelyhaven’t done that.”
I shouldn’t have said that, because he suddenly seemed very intrigued. “Are you asking me to earn it?”
Oh God. I wasprovokinghim.
I was losing my damn mind.
My fists rained against his thighs. “I can’t feel my legs. Get. Off. Me!”
He smirked and flipped us over in one effortless move, settling me ontohislap. “Better?”
I sucked in a breath and scrambled off him like he was on fire. Halfway to the door, he caught up to me and yanked me against his front.
Heat rolled off him. I was sweating. “You never answered my question,” he said, looking down at me, while my chest rose and fell against his.
“The answer is no.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.” He shot me a very male grin.
“I’d rather die.”
He laughed and lowered his face to mine, his dark gaze burning at the edges. “A little death? That can be arranged.”
My eyes widened at the innuendo. Then narrowed at how amusing he seemed to be finding all this.
The one hour of self-defense training I did a few months ago rushed back to me. I braced myself and drove my knee into his groin.
He made a pained groan and doubled over, letting go.
I didn’t waste a second. I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it on the floor and got the hell out of there.
As I sprinted through the house, my heartbeat was louder than the music thudding from the garden. I barely remembered the path Fabi and I had taken, but I had to find my way out before Romolo goddamn Ferraro caught up to me.
Where was Nina? She’d said she’d come back, but it had been at least fifteen minutes—though it felt like a lot longer. Apparently, time slowed when a six-foot-something monster of a man had you pinned to a bed, demanding your name.
I skidded into the foyer and tore at the front door. Beyond it was a waiting cab—thank God. The driver was leaning against the car, casually smoking a cigarette.
“Hi! I’m here! Let’s go!” I shouted, practically diving into the back seat.
The cabbie raised a brow and flicked his cigarette to the ground before sauntering to the driver’s side. He slid into his seat, giving me a glance in the rearview mirror that teetered between concern and suspicion.
“Miss, you okay?”
“Fine. Just drive. Please. I’m really late for something.” I must have sounded like I’d just robbed the place blind. But with only my small purse clutched to my chest, I supposed I didn’t screamthief.
The car rumbled to life. Relief swept over me, so palpable it was like angels singing from above. Then I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror and almost screamed.
My hair was a disaster—tangled and sticking out at angles that defied physics. My makeup was a mess—eyeliner smudged into dark streaks that made me look unhinged. But it was my eyes that scared me most. There was a wild, ravenous gleam in them, like I’d just been unleashed from a cage after being starved for days.
I fell back against the seat, choking down an anguished groan.
