Page 57 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

Because he had been so disgusted with himself. Because those pictures, that story, had brought up the depths of his shame. Had left him feeling unclean. And then his own reaction to her had made him feel even worse.

Even more unworthy of her. And then she had appeared, in that dress, her determination a ring of light around her.

How could he be any less than she was?

How could he give less than she gave?

Nobody at the party brought up any of the news articles. Of course they wouldn’t, not here. No one who had been given an invite to this was lying in wait. But that would not always be the case.

There would be times when they had to confront animosity, when they would have to confront the sneering delight of people who enjoyed their embarrassment. But thankfully it was not tonight.

She deserved this night. She deserved everything.

He did not dance. It wasn’t in his nature. And yet when other couples went out to the dance floor he found himself compelled to do the same. With her.

He went to her, and reached out his hand. “Dance with me.”

He let himself get drunk on her. The touch, the exhilaration of spinning with her on the dance floor. He let everyone around them fade away. He let himself feel the magic, the kind of joy he had never let himself feel around Christmas.

At the end of the evening, at the end of their last dance, she stretched up on her toes and kissed his lips, in front of everyone. “Merry Christmas.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SHEFELTTHEintensity of what they had just experienced wrapping all the way around her skin. She didn’t know what changes had been happening inside of him, but she could feel them. Like electricity crackling over his body. And when they got into the car to go back home, her breath exited her body as she caught his eyes across the seat. “A job well done,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You were a triumph. In spite of everything. I was an ogre.”

“Only a little bit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that when you met me we were snowed in on a mountaintop, and it might have seemed like I was... Something that I’m not.”

“How do you think you seemed?”

He laughed. Hard. “Normal?”

“You didn’t know how to heat up a can of soup. You did not seem normal, Rocco.” She closed the distance between them and put her hand on his thigh. “I came with you anyway.”

He looked at her, his expression charged.

And yet again, she had the feeling that he didn’t know quite what to say, so he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

Instead, he claimed her mouth with his. Ruthless, hard. And it was a claiming. He pushed his fingers into her hair, knocking the pins out, and letting it fall loose.

She was breathless. Undone by it and him.

He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. Bit her bottom lip. Left her mouth swollen and aching with need.

When they arrived at the penthouse, it was all they could do to get out of the car. All they could do to make it up to the penthouse.

She had seduced him. Had teased him and tormented him before. But this was different. He was claiming her. Utterly and completely. His touch was rough, and exciting.

He tore her dress away from her body, and revealed the surprise she had on underneath. “What is this?” he growled.

“I got this for you. Days ago. But since you weren’t touching me, you didn’t know.”

“I know now,” he said, lowering his head and sucking at the tender flesh of her breast, hard. Then he bit her, leaving a mark behind. She loved it. She encouraged him. Because he was claiming her body for himself, and that was what she wanted. She didn’t want to be adrift. She wanted him to hold on. She wanted everything.

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