Page 72 of Stolen Seconds

I slipped of my own torn shirt, letting it fall at my feet along with his.

My chest heaved at the electric current running up my spine. He stared at me as if he wanted to devour me whole until there was nothing left.

With his eyes locked on mine, he undid his belt, the clanking sound of it heightening every sensation spiraling through me.

As his pants hung open, he tilted his head, waiting for me to remove my next piece of clothing.

But he was cheating. And we both knew it.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I hooked my thumbs in both my underwear and pants before sliding them off.

His sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation I needed to know I played this game better than he did.

But his patience ran thin as he muttered, “Fuck it.” And lunged for me faster than I could blink.

His chest collided against me as his lips fell upon mine. It wasn’t harsh or rushed as I had expected.

He took his time kissing me, as if I was the air that he needed to breathe. Every flick of his tongue against mine was in desperation, his grip on my lower back tightening my stomach into knots.

With my hand against his hard chest, I let it slide down his torso, feeling his warm skin burn me from the inside.

He continued to tease my flesh, nipping, sucking and biting until my head felt heavy from the taste of him.

It was too much. He was everywhere, seeping deep into my bones and igniting an inferno of emotions.

I moved my hand further down, his muscles flexing with every brush.

There was something about the way he reacted to me that drove me insane. It was addicting, my entire being needing more of it.

A squeal ripped from my throat when he lifted me and laid me flat on the marble table. My heart thumped against my chest as I propped myself on my elbows.

Luca stood back, running his gaze down my body possessively, his eyes blazing with pure and wild hunger.

It was torture, this slow ripple of suspense that made my skin spark.

“Luca,”I breathed, my voice dripping with a longing I didn’t know it was capable of.

A sick part of me loved his dominance. He made me crave his attention and instead of being ashamed to submit to it, I felt empowered.

“I’m going to make you forget about every man that has ever known what you’ve felt like.”

And he did.

We stayed in the gazebo until a sliver of energy came back to our limbs.

His hand caressed my hip, his thumb digging against my tattoo—the same mark on the bullet. “You must be held in high regard,” he murmured against the crevice of my neck.

“What?”

He pulled away from me before grabbing his shirt. “Your tattoo. Viktor told me the meaning.”

My heart dropped to my stomach at the mention of his name. How could I have forgotten that they’d met, putting me in a dangerous position.

Luca handed me my clothes, eyeing me curiously. “You know him? He’s got the same tattoo on his hand.”

I recalled the past conversations I’d had with my cousin before answering him. “He’s our exporter,” I lied. “How do you know him?”

He had no right to question me, but I had to tread carefully to avoid giving an unwarranted reaction or it’d make me sound defensive.

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