Page 155 of The Art of Ruin

Adriano rarely hides what he wants from me anymore.

And apparently, what he wants is me constantly.

The realization still sends stupid little sparks of heat through my chest every single time. “You know,” I say, reaching for my earrings, “most people at least attempt to play it cool.”

“I’ve never seen the point. Games serve no purpose.”

“That’s one of the things I l…” I almost say love, it almost slips past my lips like a thief, but I stop myself at the last second. “Like about you.”

“I like you too, Tesoro,” he says calmly, his hands massaging my shoulder as I watch him in the mirror, “which is why I want you in my bed every night.”

Heat climbs instantly into my cheeks.

He stops what he’s doing, one hand sliding slowly around my waist while the other takes the earring gently from my fingers before I can drop it.

The intimacy of the gesture does ridiculous things to me.

His eyes meet mine in the mirror as he fastens it carefully.

Then the other.

His fingers brush the side of my neck lightly afterward, lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. “You’re quiet,” he murmurs.

I swallow once. “You make it difficult to concentrate sometimes.”

Something dark and satisfied flickers briefly through his expression.

The man genuinely enjoys undoing me.

Which honestly feels fair considering what he does to my nervous system daily.

“Good,” he says simply.

I turn then, meaning to say something sarcastic back, but the second I look at him properly, the words disappear completely.

He’s looking at me like he already knows how tonight ends.

Like he’s already thinking about kissing me breathless somewhere private later.

The heat in his eyes makes my stomach tighten instantly.

Dangerous man.

“You cannot look at me like that right before we leave the house,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to arrive at this date with at least some control over my body’s need for you.”

His thumb brushes slowly along my jaw. “I think we both know that stopped being possible a while ago—for either of us.”

Unfortunately, that’s true.

The worst part is—I don’t even mind anymore. I’ve never felt so wanted or wanted someone so much.

Snow falls softly over Manhattan by the time we leave the brownstone. I turn and wave at Elena, who is babysitting Letty for us, and she offers me a blown kiss.

The city glows beneath it, headlights blurred against wet streets while Adriano guides me toward the waiting car with one hand warm against my lower back.