Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

“I don’t care what you do. This is business, and I fall part of the assets, right?”

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Then he tugs at the sheet. I lash out to smack his hands away when he tries to pull it down from my breasts, but he catches my wrists.

“Don’t touch me.” I wince.

He, however, tightens his grip on my wrist and lowers his head to press his lips to my ear.

“I can touch you whenever I want, Princesca. You belong to me. You just said it yourself. You fall part of the assets. You remember signing your name, right?”

Enraged, I try to pull my hand from his, but he just holds on tighter. “I was forced. That’s not the same thing as me giving myself to you.”

“Interesting choice of words.” He holds up my hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles.

“They are just words.”

“Maybe so, but I think… you’re curious.” I flinch and raise my brows.

“What am I curious about, Massimo?”

He runs his finger over the back of my palm. “To see what it would be like to give yourself to me. To see what it would be like if I hadn’t stolen you away from your father. Curious to see what it would be like to be with me, for you to give in to desire.”

“No…” I mutter, swallowing past the lump that’s formed in my throat as the desire he speaks of quickens my pulse.

“Take the sheet off,” he commands, his tone level.

“Why?”

“I want to see you.” His gaze drops to my breasts. My entire body blushes at the wild sexual flames that dance in his eyes.

“You saw me already.”

“I want to see you again.”

“What if I don’t want you to see me?” I challenge.

“That’s not up to you. You don’t follow instructions well, do you, Princesca?”

“Are you always such an ass?” I throw back.

“Yes.”

“You like humiliating me, don’t you?” I say in a small voice.

“Sweetheart, when a man asks you to strip, it’s not because he wants to humiliate you. It’s because he likes looking at your body.” His lips lift into a mutinous tilt, and he gives me a disarming grin. When his eyes cloud and darken with that wild sexual haze, it grips me, and the stir of arousal swirls deep in my core.

He comes closer and hovers over me with that smile and that look, snaring me further. “Emelia… when a man asks you to strip, it’s because he wants you, Princesca.”

The strangest thing happens to me on hearing those words. I forget. Just for a moment, I forget… everything. Shame and desire mingle hot in my throat, and the raw power of attraction holds me at its will.

I drop my guard. He sees the moment I do. This time when the devil tugs at the sheet, I allow him to.

He pulls it right off me, exposing my nakedness to him once more. My nipples pucker at the hungry look in his eyes, and my body heats when he runs his finger from the tip of my chin right down to the valley between my breasts.

The urge to tell him to go away fades away, blending into the air when he climbs closer.

“Lie back and spread your legs for me,” he commands. The mellow baritone of his voice laces with sexual heat. Husky with desire.

My breath quickens. I swallow hard. The question enters my mind again through the haze. What is he going to do to me? The build of pressure rising inside my body terrifies me because I’m not sure I would put up a fight if he decided to take me.