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I follow the movement of his tongue, and all the alcohol I’ve consumed seems to heat up my body at that very moment.
“Taste it,” he orders, then sips his.
I take a single sip and barely swallow it. “It tastes rich and spicy,” I tell him. “Like you.”
Seemingly pleased, he tips up the corners of his mouth a little. “You have a great palate,” he compliments me. “Nothing less to be expected from a chef.”
With him so close and alcohol cruising my veins, I start to notice the beautiful curve of his full lips, the cleft chin, the hard cheekbones, and those big, cold, blue eyes. “You and your uncle have the same color eyes.”
“Begin.” Severio’s order feels like a whip.
I turn my head to see Gordon slipping on dark gray gloves.
“You’re not allergic to latex, are you?” he asks.
“I am,” I lie, wondering if that could delay the claiming. How big is the tattoo? Will it show if I wear a V-neck T-shirt, or is it lower on the front? Is it like a collar around the neck? I don’t want to ask for fear I’ll run. It makes no difference. I’m getting one either way. I can get one by force, or I can get one while sipping a five-figure glass of wine.
Severio tsks. “She’s lying. Begin.” Two fingers close over my chin and move my head so I’m not watching Gordon’s prep. Severio wants my eyes on him.
“Lying will get you in trouble with me,” he says.
“I’m already in trouble with you.”
“How so?”
“The claiming is a punishment for my father joining the order without your approval.”
“I’m going to numb the area now,” Gordon says. “It’s an injection, but the needle is tiny, so you shouldn’t feel much besides cold spreading over the skin. I’m told this numbing drug feels like a blanket over the area. I’ll start working with the ink right away. Please don’t move.”
A hand on my shoulder steadies me as Gordon’s needlework starts prickling. My skin isn’t as numb as I expected, and I feel most of the pain as a buzzing between my legs, particularly my clit area. Oh boy.
It’s as if the buzzing of the tattoo gun vibrates over my clitoris, and each tiny pain prick turns me on. This is unexpected. Is it normal? I wish I’d researched these things before I came here, but I’ll search the net right after I leave.
It doesn’t help my arousal that my view is a tall and brutally handsome man who gives off those dominant bedroom vibes I imagine I’d easily enjoy. Also, I’m sandwiched between two men in a dark room, it’s late, and I’ve got tequila in my veins.
Abruptly, Severio moves behind the bar. He returns with a glass of ice, which he presses against my heated cheek.
I stare up at him, finding his blue eyes hooded. I think he knows I’m turned on.
“Thank you.”
He puts the glass in my hand. “Tell me what you thought about your wedding.”
Trying to think of what to say, I look up at the ceiling. Severio Mancini scrambles my brain. One minute, I’m overthinking; the next, I’m a blank slate.
“I thought it was… Well, the reception was wonderful. People seemed to have enjoyed themselves. Did you enjoy it?” I ask. Oh no, why would I ask him that when I’m sure he hated every minute of it? I brace for the answer.
“No.”
Ouch, but also, I probed, and now that I broke the ice, in a manner of speaking, I might as well push on with what I’ve been dying to ask. “I noticed you didn’t eat. Was the food not to your taste?”
“I don’t know. I never tasted it.”
“We served a variety of dishes. You could’ve ordered anything you wanted.”
“I ordered revenge. Here you are. A dish served”—he leans in, a smirk on his face—“very hot.”
Hot how?I want to ask, but I bite my tongue. If I ask him if he finds me hot, I’m setting myself up for humiliation. I’m sure he’s referring to the actual heat he probably sees on my face. It’s from arousal, but also tequila. Yet, his face is so close to mine that it’s considered inappropriate. Unless he’s flirting.
