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I broke a little, not all the way, but I was crumbling at the edges. “Just a taste,” I whispered.
His mouth jerked in a smile and he pulled me forward, pushing aside my skirt. His fingers skimmed up my thigh and slid just beneath the soaked edge of my panties. I was trembling now, my body tense with desire, so close to giving in completely. He pushed my thighs a little higher, spreading my legs, and drew aside my panties. Cool air brushed over the sensitive skin and my core clenched, aching with emptiness. I bit my lip, letting my head fall back, the ceiling spinning overhead. I’d forgotten everything else, including the driver on the other side of the glass.
“You’re so fucking sexy.”
Then his tongue, hot and everything I remembered it being, slid over my sex. I jerked, somehow wetter than I’d been a moment ago, and bit my lip, breathing hard. Fuck, he was good at this. Far too good. He licked me again and growled, low and primal, in his throat. My legs shook as he dove in, taking far more than just one taste, but I dug my fingers into my thighs and let him.
Chapter Five
Then the car went over a bump and I jolted to awareness, scrambling to push him from my lap. “No, you’re going too far,” I said.
He ran a hand over his mouth and chin, sitting back down. I glanced down at his lap and the front of his pants were strained with his arousal. The thought that I made him like that sent an ache of desire through me and I almost gave in. I could have asked him to pull over by the nearest hotel and book a room just to let him have me for the rest of the afternoon. But no; he could afford the room, but he wasn’t going to buy me that easily.
I brushed my skirt down over my knees and reached for my sandals, but he shook his head.
“Indulge me,” he said.
I considered ignoring him, but what would it hurt to wear the heels? I’d already let him go further today than I’d intended, so what difference would it make if I put on the shoes? I reached over and took the heels from him and pushed them onto my feet, crossing my legs and fixing my eyes out the window.
“What would you like for dinner?” he asked, after a while.
“Maybe we should just go back,” I said.
“No, I’m going to wine and dine you.”
“Fine, let’s have Italian,” I snapped.
“Good, I know the perfect place.”
We drove out of the village and further into the outskirts of the city. The buildings began passing us by in a blur, lights blinking on as the evening descended. I was beginning to feel sleepy and a little hungry by the time the car pulled up outside a large building with black windows. A tall, beautiful couple dressed in designer clothes moved up the sidewalk and disappeared behind the darkened door. This was one of those places, too exclusive for my family, but no doubt commonplace for Duran.
The hostess looked up and her eyes widened and she hurried over to greet us. “Mr. Esposito, will it be your usual seat?” she asked.
“Just put us in the dining room, Maeve,” he said. “We’re going for the full, authentic experience tonight.”
Maeve nodded and Duran took my hand, his fingers firm around mine, and we followed her down the hall and into a large room lit for the evening. The ceiling stretched high overhead, the white marble floors and walls glittered, the chandeliers seemed to spin with a dozen colors at once. We descended to a lower portion and Maeve seated us in a private corner at a table for two.
“I’ll have scotch, just as I like it,” he said. “What would you like to drink, princess?”
I flushed and scrambled to think of something. I wasn’t the biggest drinker, but after the day I’d had, a glass of something to loosen my nerves sounded amazing. “May I please have a Merlot?”
“Of course, I’ll be right back,” Maeve said, smiling and tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. She was pretty and about my age with a slender body beneath her little black dress and heels. She disappeared among the tables and I turned back to Duran.
“She seems very nice,” I said.
“Oh, Maeve is lovely,” said Duran, leaning back and setting his phone on the table. “She’s actually the daughter of one of the outfit’s men, but she wanted to pave her own way. I got her a job here a few years ago and now she’s paying her way through school with it. Smart girl.”
“Oh?” I said, feeling somehow envious of his compliments.
“Don’t worry, she’s only half Italian,” he said. “Her mother is actually from the Irish organization in Boston. Classic Romeo and Juliette situation.”
I frowned. “Why does that matter?”
“You’re jealous, I can tell. I’d never go for Maeve, I’m expected only to wed and bed a purebred Italian girl. Otherwise, Lucien will kick my ass for letting down the family name. Anyway, I never looked at Maeve like that, so don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t,” I said indignantly. “Don’t you think all your rules are a bit old fashioned? Arranged marriage and only marrying other Italians?”
He shrugged. “The outfit is a well oiled machine and it works because everyone knows what is expected of them. Fighting, drama between families, breakups; they all weaken our ties to one another. Lucien agreed to a marriage with Olivia because he needs to know her father is loyal to him. Her father is over Brooklyn and Lucien has had some trouble with his men in the past. That’s why they’re tying the knot now, although she’s a little young.”
