Page 110 of Milo

"Oh," Luisa hums, crossing her arms, uncomfortably shifting her weight between both legs. "Uh—yes, that would be nice."

"Great! I can't wait," I smile, nudging my elbow against Julia's side. She's like a teenager. Always on her damn phone. "I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

"Where are you going?" she whines with an over-exaggerated pout. "I thought we could have some drinks before dinner. I can't drink alone, that is so sad. Why are you leaving me?"

"Maybe Luisa can drink with you.” I toss Julia a coy grin as I wave the Mimibella bag in the air. "I have other plans."

Julia groans. “Fine! Go! I do not need you!" A startled squeal slips past Luisa's lips as Julia latches onto her wrist. "Come with me. We drink!"

And she marches away, a squirming Luisa in tow.

I shake my head, stifling a snort as I walk to Milo's office, a burst of excitement thrumming in my veins.

We've only been apart for a few hours, yet I desperately crave to be in his presence. To be held by him. To kiss him. To simply breathe the same air.

I knock on his office door. "Hello? Milo?"

The low timbre, melodic inflections, and sultry tone of his native tongue fill my ears as I twist the handle and step inside his office.

"We do it tomorrow then, we have all that we need from him."

I bite my lip, undressing Milo with my eyes as he paces back and forth talking on the phone, his statuesque silhouette making me hot. So fucking hot. He stops, snapping his head toward me, a devilish smirk on his face.

"I will call you back, Marchello," he mutters, a wicked gleam in his irises as I stride toward him and drop the shopping bags by my feet. "It is final, Marc?—"

His jaw clenches as I stop in front of him, my eager hands running over the muscular ridges of his wide shoulders. I press my body against his, my lips floating down the length of his neck.

"Get off the phone," I whisper, my fingers raking through his hair as I nip at his skin. "You can call him back."

Milo grumbles into the speaker, his voice strained as he hangs up and tosses the phone on his desk. Grabbing my waist, his lustful gaze sweeps across my face.

"You are very bad, tesoro."

"What are you going to do about it?" I taunt, drawing figure eights on his chests with my freshly done nails. "Hmm?"

"I can think of many things…” He coils his fingers around my hand, his thumb gliding across the red acrylic tips of my manicure. He lifts a curious brow. "These are new."

"Ye—" I glance down at his hand, pursing my lips as I take in his raw bruised knuckles. "So are these." I frown, peering up at him. "What happened?"

Milo ignores my question, examining the ridiculously long nails Julia pressured me into getting. "These are quite long," he notes, the arousal in his voice kindling the flame that's already burning in my belly. "And sharp."

"Very sharp.” I tilt my head, bringing my fingers up to his throat. I drag my nails across his soft, vulnerable flesh. "It's like I have ten tiny daggers at my disposal."

His expression hardens, his grip tightening around my waist. He fists my sweater, pinching my skin. "Are you threatening me, Kiara?"

"Of course not. Just merely stating facts."

"Well, your facts are going to get you into trouble one day," he breathes, his palm circling around my ass as he thrusts his hips forward. "A lot of trouble."

"I like trouble," I coo, batting my lashes. "I?—"

Milo surges forward, his lips crushing against mine, coaxing them open, his tongue merciless in its assault. I kiss him back, only for a second, before pulling away, my breathing shallow as I say, "Not yet. I want to show you something."

"Whatever it is, it can wait.” He arches down and nips at my neck as he attempts to remove my sweater. "This can't."

Despite the building ache in my core, I push him away, taking a step backward. "It'll be worth it.” My gaze darts to the shopping bags. "I'll meet you in your room in ten minutes."

He glares at me with suspicion and elevated curiosity. "An early Christmas gift?" He leans against his desk. "What it is?"

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