Page 25 of Wicked Bloodlines

“It’s bothering me.” I knew I sounded defensive, but I didn’t want to leave.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. “You came to my office to ask about seating arrangements.”

“Why is that so hard to believe? Yes. I came to your office to ask about seating.”

The silence stretched taut between us. His gaze held mine across the desk, dark and assessing. I felt the weight of his attention like a physical touch, dragging over my skin, searching for cracks in the facade I’d spent years perfecting. I’d gotten good at hiding my true self, but Matteo was improving at finding them.

“What happened today?” he asked, his voice dropping into that lower register that made my stomach tighten against my will. “At the boutique.” Of course he knew.

The question was so direct it nearly knocked me sideways. I’d prepared for it, of course I had, but the speed with which he cut through the bullshit still left me scrambling. But wasn’t that incident why I was here now? The man had unnerved me because I knew in my heart this was my father’s doing.

“There was a man across the street. Watching.”

“Watching the shop?”

“Watching me.” I kept my voice level. “Belle spotted him too. Your men moved in but he was gone before they reached the awning.”

Matteo watched me with an unreadable expression. “Did he say anything to you? Approach you in any way?”

“No.”

“You’re sure.”

“You can’t tell me your men hadn’t already told you. I didn’t see the guy until we were outside the shop and Belle was with me the whole time.”

He held my gaze for another few moments, then pushed back from the desk and stood. The movement was fluid, predatory. He crossed the room, closing the distance between us with an intent that made every survival instinct I possessed scream to step back, I managed to hold my ground. His hand found my chin, fingers firm beneath my jaw, tilting my face up to the light.

“You’re lying to me about something,” he said, each word precise and low. “I can see it in your eyes.” His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. The touch was gentle.

“Everyone in this house lies,” I replied, the words coming out steadier than they had any right to. “It’s the family business. I’m sure you were taught to lie from birth. Same as I was.”

His thumb traced the curve of my lower lip, dragging slowly across the soft skin, and the air between us shifted between us, becoming so sexually charged I parted my lips on a gasp. “That’s not an answer,” he murmured, his voice rough at the edges.

“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. The heat of his body pressed against mine, close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the hard lines of his body, including his cock as it pulsed insistently against my belly. My pulse thundered and my lips parted in anticipation of his kiss.

I should have stepped back or deflected or anything except what I did. Because I closed the fraction of an inch between us and pressed my mouth to his, knowing this was the beginning of the end of my resistance to Matteo Luca.

The kiss was anger and hunger and raw, ugly truth of two people who wanted each other against their better judgment. His hand slid from my chin to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he held me exactly where he wanted me. He nipped my lower lip and the sharp, bright spark of pain shot straight through my pussy.

I kissed him back with everything I had. I fisted his shirt, pulling him closer, my body arching into the solid heat of him. His stubble scraped my chin as he swept his tongue into my mouth. I gave him everything I had, because for these few stolen moments, I didn’t have to be the woman with secrets she feared spilling, or the pawn caught between two family empires. I could just be a woman who wanted a man, and that simplicity was so fucking intoxicating I nearly wept with it.

Matteo broke the kiss long enough to drag in a ragged breath. His eyes were wild, pupils blown black, something desperate and furious burning behind them. “This doesn’t fix whatever the fuck is going on with you,” he growled against my mouth.

“I know.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t, Matteo. Not yet.”

His hand tightened in my hair, then he moved me back to his desk, one arm sweeping across the surface with enough force to send his laptop and the half empty glass flying and dropping to the floor with a heavy thud. He lifted me, setting me on the cleared surface.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him against me, feeling his erect cock throbbing against my pussy through both our clothes. Matteo scraped the sensitive skin below my ear before nipping the lobe sharply. I let my head fall back with a cry that was half surrender, half relief.

He had my sweater pushed to my ribs before I’d fully registered the movement. Cool air hit my skin, and then he closed his mouth, hot and hungry, around my nipple through the thin lace of my bra. I arched into him, a moan tearing from my throat before I could catch it. When he closed his teeth over my nipple the sharp, electric pleasure-pain shot straight to my pussy. It disturbed me how much I liked him leaving his mark all over my body in such a primitive way.

“Fuck,” I gasped, clawing at his shirt, desperate for skin.