Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(58)

Gian locked a hand around my wrist, his jaw hard and his eyes glinting. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Seriously? You’re going to take off without talking to me?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“You have more important stuff to do right now, Gian.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he fired back.

He tugged me hard against him, forcing my hands to circle his neck. He smelled like cigars and whiskey. My legs pressed against his, and damn it, his closeness affected me more than I wanted to admit. He wanted to subdue me and unstitch my resistance. I sensed him willing me to look at him, and somehow, I found the self-respect to rebuff his unspoken command.

Punishing me for my defiance, he slid his hands around my waist and squeezed my ass, rocking his hard length against me. “Why would I want that woman when you do this to me?”

I didn’t want to like his dominant manner, except somewhere in a deep, dark place in the back of my mind, I kind of did. Swallowing the moan on the tip of my tongue, I dug my fingers into the soft weave of his suit jacket. My fingers simultaneously longed to pull him closer and slap him across his too-smug face. I hated that he could arouse me even as betrayal and hurt churned inside of my gut like acid.

“Don’t do this to me,” I whimpered, revolted by the weakness in my voice. In my soul. In my heart.

“I asked her to meet me in here so I could fire her, Evie. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. Your father is waiting for you.”

“No.” His hands framed my face. “Not until you believe I didn’t do anything wrong.”

His lips slammed against mine, chased with a hard thrust of his tongue. All of it orchestrated to possess me, claim me, and pacify me. He tasted like a lethal concoction of anger, whiskey, and seduction. I jerked my head to the side, severing the connection.

“Stop.”

He speared his hand into his hair. “Nothing happened. She was here when I got here.”

I backpedaled a few steps until my thighs hit the rounded arm of his sofa. “You obviously sent her signals that you were interested.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand trailed down the side of my neck, pausing on the front of my white collared shirt. “You’d like me to be a lying cheater exactly like your ex so you don’t have to deal with what’s going on between us.”

“No.” My voice was barely a whisper.

He tugged on the sides of my shirt and two buttons popped off, skidding across the floor by my feet. He cupped one breast, pinching and teasing my nipple. I gasped.

“Then why don’t you believe me?” He flipped open the button of my baggy boyfriend jeans and shoved them, along with my panties, down my legs. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.

My fingernails sunk into the arm of the leather sofa on either side of my hips. “I want to, but I’m—”

He plunged his fingers between my thighs, stroking the sensitive flesh and effectively stopping my words mid-sentence. I arched my hips. His touch was Heaven and Hell. Heaven because I wanted him. Hell because I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of him. His lips were everywhere, his stubble like sandpaper on my flesh, his tongue licking and exploring. All of it drove me to the brink of insanity.

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” I confessed more to myself than him.

He crouched down, a hand on each of my knees. “Why?”

“Because it’s too big, and I don’t want to be hurt again.”

He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder. “I’m never going to hurt you, sweetheart.” With his amber gaze burning into me, his tongue licked a devastating path up the inside of my thigh. “You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine.”

His warm breath wafted over my folds, and my eyes drifted shut.

“Look at me.”

Too far gone to resist, I opened my eyes, and he leaned in, dragging his tongue over my clit, teasing me, taunting me.

“Holy shit,” I moaned, raking my teeth over my lower lip.

His mouth devoured me in adept movements made up of tiny probes and decadent swirls.

I bucked my hips. My legs shook. My fingers and toes tingled. My muscles bunched.

“Gian. Ah. Oh,” I whimpered along with a hundred other incoherent words and syllables.

“That’s it, Evie. You look so beautiful all spread out for me,” he growled, sliding one finger inside of me and then another.

Pleasure spiraled down my spine. Heat bloomed through me. His fingers moved faster. Harder. It felt so good. Too good. And then I tipped over the edge, my sex clenching around his fingers, wave after wave of pleasure spiraling through me.

He set my leg back down on the floor, the air thick with the smell of my arousal. Reluctantly, I looked at him. His hand drifted to my face. His knuckles traced the line of my jaw, and I knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth because I felt the exact same way, and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

He angled forward, pressing his lips to mine, and all my worries, expectations, and doubts faded. It didn’t make sense, but I knew deep down in my bones his words were the absolute truth.

“I love you, Evie.”