After a moment, he propped himself up on his hands and looked down at me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure.”
Smiling, he lifted himself off me. “Good.”
I rolled to the edge of the bed, scooped up my chemise, and pulled it on. Dazed, I stumbled to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I turned on the light and looked in the mirror.
Jesus, is that me? I had bruises on my face and tangles in my hair. My cheeks were flushed and my lips were swollen. But I liked the way my eyes looked—knowing and satisfied, as if I was in on a secret. I couldn’t help the smile that inched onto my face. Yes. I look like a woman who’s been to bed with the sheik.
The problem was, now that I knew the feverish thrill of it, I wanted to do it again. Right now.
No.
My last shred of sense took over. This had to be a one-time-only experience. The smile slid off my face. I used the bathroom and cleaned up, my mood souring.
When I opened the door, Enzo was lounging in his underwear on the bed, smoking a cigarette. He’d lit one for me as well, and handed it to me wordlessly.
We smoked in silence for a few minutes, watching each other through the drifting haze. “I wish I’d brought some whisky up here,” he said. “I could use a drink.”
“Me too.” I dragged deep and hard on the cigarette, searing my lungs. “Although I’m not sure my body can take any more sin tonight.”
He cocked a brow. “Let’s find out.”
“No. We can’t do that again.”
“Why not? Didn’t you enjoy it?” He tilted his head. “Looked like you did. Sounded like you did.” He leaned toward me. “Felt like you did.”
Heat rushed my extremities. “That’s not the point.” I put out my cigarette in the ashtray he’d set on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, my legs crossed. And they’re going to stay crossed. “You’re engaged to be married. I don’t want to be some little toy on the side you take out and play with whenever you feel like it.”
“We can play whenever you feel like it too.”
“No. I’ll help you get your money back from Sam the Barber—as long as my friend doesn’t get hurt—but that’s all.” I spoke with finality and hoped I sounded more sure than I felt. And why didn’t he get dressed again? His bare skin was tying my stomach in knots.
He put out his cigarette and moved the ashtray to the dresser. “I think you’re overestimating your willpower.” Returning to the bed, he put his hand on my knee and ran it up my thigh. “And I know you’re overestimating mine.”
God, he was unfairly handsome. He lowered his lips to my shoulder as his fingers crept between my legs, nudging them apart. His other hand brushed the strap of my chemise aside and pulled it down, exposing a breast. I knew before he even put his mouth on it I was lost. Closing my eyes, I let the languorous hum take over my body. “This is a bad idea.”
“Why? I think we could be good for each other. We just have to keep it a secret. Our very own…” He licked my nipple with one warm stroke. “Dirty little…” He blew cool air across it, and I shivered. “Secret.” He took it between his teeth and bit down.
I gasped in pain, but also with the shock of pleasure it brought me. He picked his head up, a fiendish smile on his lips. “Want to bite me back?”
Instead of answering, I got to my knees, pushed him back against the headboard and yanked his underwear down. Without breaking eye contact, I crawled up his body, one leg on either side of him, until my knees bracketed his hips. After tearing off my chemise, I licked my fingers, reached down and touched myself. His mouth fell open.
Slick with desire, I slid down the rigid length of his cock, smiling when he sucked in his breath.
“Don’t come,” I ordered, delirious with the power I had over my own pleasure—and his. At his strangled groan, I dug my nails into his shoulders. “I mean it.”
“You—are—a wicked little girl.” He struggled to get the words out, his dark eyes shooting angry fire. This was way too dangerous, and I knew it.
But I didn’t care.
And I wasn’t a little girl.
“Put your hands on me,” I said.
He did as he was told, running his hands up my legs, then over my stomach and breasts. I rotated my hips, and he moved his hands back to my thighs, digging his fingers into my skin. “Easy,” he begged.
So I did it again. This time he put a hand to my throat, his eyes warning me not to push him.