Page 133 of Lorenzo

"I've got you, dolcezza," he murmurs against my skin.

He shifts the angle of his fingers, pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside me while his thumb presses harder against my clit.

My entire body bows, balancing on the edge.

"Let go, Donatella. I've got you." His words, both a command and a reassurance, are what do me in.

His words, the deep, gravelly tone of his voice, the way he says my name—that name I've always hated but now never want to stop hearing.

The orgasm that tears through me is so intense I'm blinded by it. I'm vaguely aware of my nails scratching down his back as I come.

Lorenzo's arm banded around my waist is the only thing holding me up as the waves of pleasure continue to wash over me.

His fingers continue working me, never stopping, carrying me through until I'm completely spent, my body sagging against his.

He eases me back against the counter, and I realize my head is resting on his chest. I can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath my ear.

I can also feel his erection pressing against my stomach.

It's a testament to how much I trusted him, to how safe I felt with him, that I could let go like that. Completely and without reservation.

I don't let go like that.

Ever.

Something almost like horror creeps up on me.

I straighten up quickly, wobbly on my feet.

His arm remains around me, tightening when I sway.

"I'm fine," I say, my voice hoarse.

I'm not fine.

I'm a fucking mess.

I'm naked in my kitchen, with a virtual stranger who is most definitely a client.

A client, whose son was, until a few hours ago, a murder suspect.

And I came so hard I think I might have actually blacked out for a second.

This is not what I do.

This is not who I am.

I push away from him, but I'm still too weak to put any strength behind it.

He doesn't move an inch.

Lorenzo's dark eyes search my face.

"Say what you're thinking."

I shake my head, looking away from him. Apparently, that's all I can manage right now.

"No."