Chapter Fifteen
“Nothing happened like I envisioned.” An indefinite amount of time had passed when Angelo finally broke the silence in the control room. Both of them were naked, Lane curled on his lap while Angelo was sprawled on the couch.
“You mean feared,” she corrected sleepily, unable to find the strength to even open her eyes. “Nothing happened like you feared.”
Angelo only grunted.
It made her smile because the inelegant response was so unlike Angelo. Snuggling closer to him, she looked up, confessing, “I’m glad you took a chance on me tonight.”
There was a moment of silence before Angelo reluctantly made his own confession. “This annoys the hell out of me, but tonight was unlikely to happen if not for the singer.”
The last words dripped with so much cool distaste that it took her a second to understand who “the singer” was. “You mean Dylan?”
“Ah, tesoro. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
The way he crooned made her pulse leap. She was definitely in trouble again…and her masochistic little heart thrilled to it.
“I do not like hearing another man’s name on your lips when you’re with me.”
“Actually,” she began, “you said you didn’t like it while I was in your bed, and technically this isn’t—”
He raised a brow. You are certain you want to argue this point?
Without missing a beat, she changed the subject, asking, “How did, err, the singer convince you?”
“Good girl.” His lips touched her hair.
A reward, she thought, and her heart skipped a beat. But even so, she wasn’t to be distracted. “Angelo?”
His sigh made her lips twitch, but she continued to look at him expectantly, and he finally said, “He told me you might surprise me.”
She was bemused. “Why would he think that? He doesn’t even know me.”
“No, he doesn’t, but he knows someone like you, and…” He paused.
“What?” She tensed, immediately thinking the worst.
Angelo knew this, and he bit her ear in punishment. “Stop being so pessimistic.”
Oh. There he was again, making her heart beat faster with the way he so impressively read her mind. Biting her lip, she insisted, “Tell me what he said. Please.”
“He told me you’re my perfect match.”
She gasped. “He said that, really? I’m your perfect match? Me?”
He stared at her stonily.
She started smiling.
“You have an irritatingly smug look on your face.”
She didn’t take offense, not when he said the words with that look in his eyes.
“I’m your perfect match, Angelo.” Her voice was awed. “Dylan—I mean, the singer thought I’m your perfect match.”
Angelo raised a brow, drawling, “Are you impressed because I’m your perfect match or because the singer was the one who said it?”
“Well—”
Something feral flashed in his eyes.
Oops.
“I’m just joking,” she said quickly. “Of course, I’m thrilled – ecstatic – that you’re my perfect—mmph!” His mouth swallowed the rest of her words in a demanding kiss.
When Angelo raised his head, the first thing she saw was the beautiful smile on his lips.
Oh my gosh.
She was really in trouble.
“Angelo,” she began uneasily.
But instead of answering, he lifted her off his lap and instead placed her beside him on the couch. And then he began arranging her on her fours.
Fear fed her anxiety…and her desire, and she found herself shivering at the threat of the unknown.
Angelo positioned himself behind her.
She froze. “W-what are y-you doing?” Her voice came out a high-pitched squeak.
“Punishing you, of course.”
“By taking me from behind?” She was bemused. Angelo had already taken her in this position – twice – and it had only felt indescribably—
Then she felt his fingers parting her open.
Oh my gosh.
It was that hole.
She immediately tried crawling away, but he pulled her right back, and his laugh filled the room, the sound lovely and cruel.
“No, Angelo—”
“Then you should think twice about what you say.”
“It’s my first night—”
He said calmly, “I know.”
“But it’s going to hurt—”
“Only just a bit at first—”
She whimpered.
“But then it will feel good.” He palmed her butt as he spoke, and she whimpered again.
“Ready?”
“No, Angelo, please—”
But he didn’t listen to her because they knew that was what she wanted.