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His face is hard and unyielding as his gaze sweeps over me, taking in my probably disheveled appearance. “Are you alright?”

I don’t answer, too transfixed by the sculpted planes of his face and the intensity of his gaze. It’s the same handsome man who peered down at me from the secluded area. Taking a deep breath, I nod and finally find my voice. “I-I need some air.”

I start entangling myself from him, but his grip on my waist is too firm.

“Let’s get you outside.” He swirls me around, guiding me off the dance floor and out to the lobby.

Only when we’re outside he removes his arm. The comforting touch gone makes me want to place his arm back around me, but that would ask too much from a stranger. I lean against the cool brick wall, drawing in deep breaths to steady my racing heart. “Thank you.”

My savior stands before me, his lips quirking up. “Don’t thank me. You already had it handled by the time I got there.” His voice is as compelling as his eyes, deep and smooth.

Heat blooms on my cheeks. “Still, thank you. If you hadn’t caught me, I probably would’ve ended up on the floor with a broken nose or something. I hate guys like him, just like my ex-husband, and I—”

Gemma, he’s a stranger. He doesn’t want to hear your sob story. Why should he care?

“You don’t need to explain.” He reaches out to brush my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

This slight brush of his fingertips against my skin makes me goosebumps all over, and I shiver involuntarily, a sudden warmth radiating from inside of me.

“You’re cold.” He takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around me.

“Thanks.” Yeah, cold… but I hug it close anyway, the fabric smooth against my skin.

Upon closer examination, it appears to be a very pricey, high-grade jacket. It has a dark red hue, and it likely had been custom-tailored in Italy for him. It’s 100% not from the rack.

Our eyes meet as he cups my cheek, tracing the contour of my cheekbone with his thumb. He stares at me, his gaze intense and unreadable, not straying for one second.

“Do you want me?” The words escape my lips before I quite realize what I asked him.

Damn alcohol.

I duck my head, focusing my eyes on his shoes. Italian, too. He has style, no question.

“Look at me.”

My head shoots up, staring right into his deep gray eyes.

“I think you can’t even imagine how much I want you.” He takes my hand and presses a smoldering kiss on my wrist. “How much I want to see you trembling beneath me. Screaming.”

Time stands still, and his lips are like a live wire on my skin, waking nerves I didn’t know existed.

“Perhaps it’s time to erase these memories of your ex and come with me.” He steps closer, caging me against the wall. His eyes are dark with desire and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it makes me weak in the knees.

Mary’s voice appears in my head, urging me to let go of my worries and have fun again.

“Yeah, it’s time.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gemma. After my grandmother.” God, I got bad at this. After my grandmother, really? “Forget the last part, please.”

“Done. Gemma.” He rolls my name on his tongue as if tasting it. “A beautiful name for a gem like you.” His hands cup my ass, pulling me off the wall and against his body, letting me feel every inch of him. And I mean it. Every inch.

“Is this the moment you’ll kiss me?”

Not even a second later, his lips are on mine. Hungry and demanding. Rough and gentle. And gone too soon.

“Let’s get out of here. Or do you want me to fuck you here?”

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