I lose myself in the beat, a relaxing buzz bubbling through my veins. My feet feel light, my body supple, and soon my mind clears of all the negative thoughts.
This is my happy place. Just me and the music.
I wish Violet were here.
Hands grip my hips, and I’m tugged back against a solid chest. Warm air tickles my ear. “Stop moving your ass like a fucking stripper.”
Sweet Jesus.
The low rumble of Luca’s voice, his strong hands gripping my hips, and the solid muscle pressing into my back – sends me on a rollercoaster of emotions I wasn’t prepared for.
Maddening lust. Desperate need. Hopeless dreams.
Sweet, sweet, Jesus.
Without any effort, Luca turns me around to face him. In a split second, I notice his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his porn-worthy forearms, his tie hangs loose, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt have been undone, exposing golden skin.
God have mercy on my ovaries.
Wanting to save face, I mutter, “Nice to know you’re staring at my ass.”
Luca’s hands move up my sides, the feel of them on my body so freaking seductive that I almost let out a moan. Slowly he pushes my arms up until I rest my forearms on his shoulders, my hands inches away from weaving into his thick black hair.
“I’m not blind. I appreciate beauty as much as the next man.”
In a torturously seductive motion, his body takes ownership of mine, forcing my hips to swivel with his.
My lips part, my eyes lift, and I’m instantly sucked into the intensity of his dark irises. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Promises by EMO fills the air, weaving a spell around us. It strips me bare, putting me at Luca’s mercy as he moves my body exactly how he wants it.
“Looking for a compliment from me, principessa?”
My blood heats, my breaths growing shallow and quick.
Luca’s right hand moves to my lower back, keeping me pinned to him. He lifts his free hand to the side of my neck, brushing my hair away from my damp skin. “You know you’re fucking exquisite.”
Breathe.
God, don’t forget to breathe, Mariya.
His fingers wrap around the back of my neck, then he leans slightly down, totally crowding me.
This moment is what wild fantasies are made of.
I have the great Luca Cotroni’s attention and hands solely focused on me.
Does he feel the magnetism between us? Is it just me? Wishful thinking?
Time falls away, and there’s only the hold this man has on me. The feel of his body pressing and brushing against mine. His eyes burning on me.
I don’t want it to end.
But it does. The intense bubble explodes in my face as Viktor places a hand on my shoulder. He leans into us. “Will the two of you be okay on your own? The music and flashing lights are giving me a headache.”
Luca’s hands fall away from me as he leans closer to Viktor. “Will you be okay on your own?”
Viktor smirks. “Do I really have to answer that dumb as fuck question?”
We move off the dance floor and head back to our table. Viktor gives me a quick hug. “Behave. Don’t drive Luca insane.”
I almost roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.
Picking up my drink, I toss the alcohol back, which has Viktor telling Luca, “Don’t let her get drunk. She’s grumpy as fuck when she has a hangover.”
Luca reassuringly pats Viktor’s back. “Get some rest.”
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Viktor promises me.
When he walks toward the stairs, I sit down on the cream leather couch and pour myself a glass of champagne.
I have zero time to squash all the emotions Luca evoked in me on the dance floor because he takes a seat next to me, rests his arm on the back of the sofa, and settles his penetrating gaze on me. “Just you and me, principessa.”
The way he calls me princess simultaneously sounds like a curse and a caress.
I love it.
Chapter 6
Luca
Things couldn’t progress any better than if I had planned it myself.
I have Mariya all to myself.
With predatory possessiveness, I watch as she downs another glass of champagne. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling as the alcohol strips her of the pressure of being a bratva princess.
She still looks uncomfortable being alone with me, so I don’t stop her when she picks up the cherry bomb shot the server just placed down.
When she’s done downing the drink, I take the glass from her and set it on the table. Taking hold of her chin, I force her to look at me. “Just how drunk are you right now?”
Instead of answering me, she narrows her eyes. “Why aren’t we friends?”
The way her words slur tells me she’s drunk as fuck.
My eyebrow lifts. “Because you drew a line between us.”
“I did?” Confusion mars her forehead as she leans closer to me, resting her shoulder against the couch. “So it’s not because you don’t like me?”