Page 58 of Not Mine to Keep

His fingers went to his shirt, and he pulled it free from his pants, then in one fast move, snapped his belt free like he’d done in my bathroom the other day. “They’ll be expecting noise, too.”

My eyes cut to the leather hanging from his hand, and maybe he didn’t have kinks, but seeing him with that belt certainly had me wondering if I did.

He looked at me, then at the belt, then dropped it as if the thing were on fire in his hand. “We can say fuck it and not do this.”

“The alternative is possibly staying here longer,” I said as he finished the job of unbuttoning his shirt. “Or worse, him holding my aunt’s life over my head.”

“It’s up to you. Tell me what you want.” He kept his shirt on, but with it open, I had a view of the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles.

“Are you staying in the bathroom while I get myself off in the bed?” Why’d I sound so breathless? “How is this going to work?” When he continued to simply fix his attention on me—that unraveling-the-mysteries-of-the-universe look—I rambled, “Do you need to be in the room making noise? Headboard banging, maybe? Should I be under the covers?”

“Under the covers would be ... a better idea to the alternative.” The heavy lift of his chest pulled me back to the exposed wall of muscles I wanted to run my palms over.

“And the alternative?” I nearly panted out the ridiculous question. I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say the words.

Instead, he hissed, “You’re on very thin fucking ice.” He brought his face near mine.

Eyes up, I did my best to come across as tough and told him what he had to know already. “I don’t frighten easily.”

His smile nearly touched my mouth. We werethatclose. “Clearly, or you would’ve run a year ago. And surely Saturday night.” His hand went to my waist, and his other palm made its way to the nape of my neck as he made me his prisoner. “And definitely right now.”

“Yet I’m still here. But I shouldn’t be, though, right?” I whispered, eyes falling shut with his mouth there, unsure whether he might give in and kiss me.

His grip tightened at my waist as he drew me firm to his body, letting me feel how hard he was. “No,” he snapped out. “Now, finish getting undressed and get under the covers. Or I’ll carry you there myself.” He let go of me, and when I opened my eyes, he’d already left the bathroom. Probably removing himself from temptation that we were both struggling to navigate. How would we survive a whole summer with Armani’s men forcing us to shack up together?

I splashed some water on my face, hoping my waterproof eyeliner and mascara would hold up so I didn’t look like I’d been crying, thenquickly freed myself from the dress. Only in the white teddy and white thigh-high stockings—probably not what he wanted to see me in—I went into the bedroom.

He was on the edge of the bed, wearing only black briefs and a thin white bandage around one arm, with his forehead resting in his palm. He walked his focus up the length of my body as I checked out his nearly naked one myself.

“Calliope.” My name was more like an exhausted breath from his mouth. “What do you want from me?”

“To say my name again.” I confessed all that was in my head while lowering my arms to my side, wanting him to look at me. To see me.

He came over, snatched my wrist, and spun me around so my back was to his chest. His hot breath at my ear sent a shiver through me. “CalliopeCosta.” His hand climbed up my torso, and he palmed my breasts beneath the lingerie, the decision to refrain now a distant memory. “What else do you want?” he asked, rolling my nipple between his fingers.

“What I want or what I need?” Maybe they were one and the same?

Mouth back to my ear, clearly not wanting the guards to hear anything real between us, he said in a gravelly tone, “What you need is to be properly fucked.” His other hand went to my abdomen, and he held me tight to his hard frame. I was desperate for his palm to go between my thighs. “But you don’t want to need it. You also don’t want to get hurt.”

“Sure you aren’t speaking for yourself?” I set my hand over his and threaded our fingers together.

When he pulled his palm free from mine and let go of my breast, I knew it was less about rejection and more about not letting Armani win. And maybe not wanting anyone to get hurt. The teddy bear, as Izzy had called him, was fighting to break through.

Without looking at him, I went to the bed, peeled back the covers, then took a knee on it and arched my back. I startled at the feel of him caging me against him, his arm flying across my midsection to hold me tight. “What are you doing?”

“Losing my fucking mind, is what.” He swept my hair over one shoulder with his free hand and brought his mouth to the side of my neck. “Tell me to fuck your cunt with my hand. To help get you off. That’s all I can give you. I won’t let those men outside win by giving in to what we both need.”

Curving into his frame, I nodded, anxious to feel him.

“Say it, Calliope. Be very clear what you want me to do.”

“Please.” I wasn’t above begging. “Touch me.Everywhere.”

He groaned against my neck, and at the feel of his tongue sliding up near my ear before he lightly nibbled my lobe, I about came undone. But the moment his hand feathered over the lacy material hiding my clit, I bent forward, both hands to the bed now, pretty much ready for him to have his hand on my ass cheek.

He followed the curve of my spine and rested his free hand next to my left one, then he located the slit in the lingerie—an opening for easy access. He pushed two fingers inside me, and I cried out his name as he coated them in my arousal.

“Why are you so wet for me?”

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