Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1)(36)

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe we’re too alike. She moved to New York when she was eighteen to dance professionally. When she didn’t land any role worth a damn, she took jobs dancing in clubs in the tristate area to survive. She got pregnant, and she moved home. Needless to say, she wasn’t very happy about me following in her footsteps.” I cleared my throat, my impending failure clogging my throat like a ten car pileup. “I guess she was right. She failed, and it looks like I’m going to fail too.”

Gian braced himself above me with one hand while the other brushed down my cheek to my collarbone. “I see.”

“What do you see?”

His eyelids heavy, he halved the space between us. His mouth idled close enough that I felt his balmy exhalations as they ghosted across my lips. If I focused hard enough, I could make out every sooty blade of his lashes and every honeyed starburst in his irises.

I splayed my unsteady hands on his bare chest, and they prickled with the contradictory urge to push him away or slip my arm around his neck and pull him closer. I closed my eyes and counted the powerful thumps of his heart against my palm because the look on his face was too hard to process. It stripped me bare. It made me crave bad things.

Push him away.

Push him away.

Maybe I would have heeded my unvoiced pleas if only he weren’t so close that his spicy, intoxicating scent filled my lungs. His hand skated down my side with a feather-soft touch, and goose bumps peppered my skin. Without warning, his mouth dragged down my neck to my shoulder, pausing for a beat, then skimming across my collarbone. I angled my head to the side inviting his touch, undeterred by the fact that somewhere in the back of my mind, buried beneath the fog of desire, I wondered how much I’d regret this tomorrow when the shroud of darkness lifted.

“A beautiful woman who has lost confidence in herself. A beautiful woman who will succeed if she pushes aside her fears and tries again. A woman too fucking perfect to be real.” His voice was deep and smoky next to my ear, and it ruffled the strands of my hair.

My breasts tightened in response. Heat inched up my face, and my eyes opened, powerless to shut him out any longer. Powerless to resist him. Powerless to deny myself despite knowing this was the king of all bad ideas. Though my surrender would surely result in heartbreak, I was starting to think he might be worth the risk.

“You think so?” My voice was husky. Too husky for my own good. Passion burned in his eyes, flickering like a flame in the wind. “I know so. It’s so clear, I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

I slid my hand up his chest and around his neck like I promised myself I wouldn’t. I felt the chaotic drum of his pulse under the pads of my fingers and the warmth of his skin. We stared at each other, both of us caught in a miasma of lust and desire. If I tilted my head up a little bit, I’d eliminate any suggestion of space between us, and my lips would collide with his.

“Ti penso sempre,” he muttered along with a few other soft words I didn’t understand. Maybe I didn’t want to understand. It’d make the moment real rather than dreamlike, and I liked the castles-in-the-air feel of being with him. Being in his bed. Being in his line of sight.

I arched my pelvis into him, reveling in the solid yet satiny feel of him. Cupping the side of my face, he rubbed his thumb over my lips, hesitating for a second. I nipped him lightly. Playfully. Daringly.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled, and his lips crashed against mine. Taking. Seeking. Tempting.

Lost in the wickedness of his kiss, desire swirled inside of me. I clawed at his boxers, finally shoving them down his legs with the tips of my toes. He ripped my t-shirt over my head, his hands tangling in my hair in the frenzy to be skin-on-skin.

He slid my lace boyshorts down my legs, and a warning light flashed in my brain, begging me to stop and consider repercussions. Casual sex wasn’t my thing. Some people enjoyed the meaningless release and didn’t have problems erasing it from their memory and conscience. I wasn’t built that way. I had a hard time not getting caught up in the significance of being raw and vulnerable with someone.

As quickly as the reflection took root, my mind backtracked. A small part of me delighted in the idea of grabbing hold of the moment and seeing where this led if only to wipe away the stain of Kevin and our failed engagement and replace it with something new. Something for me. Something to reclaim my life.

I can do this. It won’t mean anything if I don’t let it.

With that little pep talk, the tug of war inside my mind faded. I wanted him. I needed him, if only for a few blinding moments of pleasure.