“I’m aware of that,” he said with a shrug. “Only I don’t care. I have nothing to hide.”
“You would if you keep looking at me like that.”
He stood up and came toward me. I backed up until I ran into the kitchen island. A bowl of fruit clattered and I jumped, but he kept coming.
“Now what do you think I want from you, princess?”
“Nothing good.”
“I don’t think you have any clue what a man like me needs.” He stopped inches away. I was drawn to him like a magnet. I wanted to throw myself against his chest and bite his bottom lip and feel him shove me back until he pinned me down and smothered me with his muscular torso. A pulse of need flooded through my body and I felt myself dripping down and ruining my panties.
It was pathetic, how easily I lost control of my body. And I loved it. God, I loved it, and feared it all at once.
“I know men like you,” I said, almost whispering. He moved even closer. Our lips were inches apart. “Men that want nothing but whatever will make them happy in any given moment. Men that flit from one thing to the next without regard for who they hurt or what gets in their way. I know men like you, Carmine Falsone.”
He reached out and took my wrists. He pinned them down against the island and I sucked in a shocked breath. It was like iron on my arms, and I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. He leaned over me, and I leaned back, my elbows flat, fingers curled under the edge. His chest pressed against my breasts and I felt his heart racing, and he must’ve felt mine. My leg ached from the awkward position, but I didn’t care. It was like a ghost of pain. A hint of something worse.
“I’m not some cheap cartel thug,” he said, staring into my eyes. “I’m not some mindless beast roaming the streets looking to fuck and snort drugs and kill. I have dreams, Jules. I have plans. While you’re under my roof, you don’t have to respect me, but you do have to respect my business.”
“I understand,” I said, taking deep breaths. “If you’re so evolved, why are you holding me down?”
His lips parted, like he hadn’t noticed what he was doing. His grip loosened—but it didn’t pull away, and I didn’t move.
“Tell me to release you, and I will.” I stared back at him. The moment stretched. “I didn’t think so.”
He let go of my wrists, but didn’t pull away. His right hand tangled into my thick, dark hair, and grabbed on tight. I gasped when he pulled back, ever so slightly. My mouth opened—
And he crushed his lips against mine.
It was like lightning crashing down into my brain. Everything stopped. Time disappeared. There was only Carmine and his tongue and his lips and the taste of him, like sweet soap and fresh grass, flooding my brain and throat. He took me, and all my shields burst away in one fiery flame of desire, blown to dust and ash.
I was his. In his arms, against his lips. I’d do anything, if he told me to. In that second, during that kiss, I was nothing, and he was everything. I kissed him back with a deep moan, an embarrassing whimper escaping my lips, and I pushed my hips back against his.
But the world returned to motion, like a record spinning up to speed.
I pushed against his chest. He pulled back, breathing hard. Our eyes locked, and he released my hair.
“We can’t,” I whispered, blinking rapidly. The warm, slick spot between my legs tingled with need so overwhelming I almost couldn’t get the words out.
But it was true. We couldn’t do it for a million reasons. Because he was a mafia bastard, and I hated mafia bastards. Because my father would string him up and cut my throat. Because Oscar would use it against me the second he found out about it.
Because I was a fake and a liar. And most of all, because I didn’t deserve a man like Carmine.
He stepped back. He stared at me like he wanted to shove me down and take me, but he held himself away, barely on the edge of control.
“Don’t pretend like that was a mistake,” he said, his voice a husky growl.
“I don’t know what that was. But I know we can’t.”
He turned and walked across the kitchen. He cursed, took his watch off, and tossed it aside. He unbuttoned his cuffs like he wanted to rip off his shirt.
I stared, tingling and buzzing.
But he only shook his head, his back turned to me.
“I know you’re right. But why the fuck does that feel so wrong?”
I had no answer. He left, disappearing back into his bedroom. I heard his door shut, and his bathroom shower turn on.