Page 120 of A Beautiful Crime

Her lips stretch wider from my response before she turns somber. “When the time comes, because I know it will, promise me I’ll be the one who kills him. I’ll be the one who kills Luca Fiore.”

Dio mio. Who knew talks of murder could be such a turn on.

“With pleasure.” I slant my mouth over hers and seal the deal with a bruising kiss.

CHAPTER 25

Carina

There’s a warmth that encompasses me. Surrounds me. Reaches deep within me to my very soul, radiating a warmness I have never known.

All those times I have spent under the rays of the sun desperately seeking its warmth and yet I’ve found it in a man who is the moon.

As I open my eyes I marvel at the sight before me.

The smattering of dark curly chest hair covering broad pectorals. The strong arms around me with a hold that promises he will never let go. Lips of sin and taste as sweet as forbidden fruit. The masculine curves and edges to his face that even God must envy.

This man, this mysterious, raw and complex man of beauty and darkness is mine.

In his sleep his hand hikes my leg higher over his lower body. Pressing my most intimate part to his. Reminding me, even unconsciously, we are the perfect fit.

In how many other ways can we explore ourselves as the perfect fit?

My face flushes from the thought alone. I’m tempted to act on my desires. To feel him, completely feel him, pulsing andhard in the small curve of my palm. I want to drive him mad with lust as he has done with me. I want to watch as pleasure takes control.

Selfishly, I want to be the only woman who ever knows what his moans sound like in the throes of passion. The only one who knows what his face looks like when he comes.

There’s the irrational part of me, the feral territorial one, who wants to hunt down and slaughter every woman who was gifted the sight of him while having sex.

Jealousy.

A green eyed monster I have now become friends with.

Now, more than ever, I want to bear his last name. I want his ring upon my finger claiming me for the world to see. I want every woman there is to know that I am his. That only I will ever be his. It’s the same maddening urgency to see a ring upon his finger. A ring to symbolize he is mine.

He stirs beneath me, his arm coming to band around me tighter. It’s as if even in his slumber he can read my thoughts. As if he’s trying to ease the jealousy within me.

I gaze at the masculine beauty of him for a second longer before I give into my impulses.

After all, he’s mine and I’m done denying myself the pleasure of having him.

Maneuvering my body agilely to not disturb him I come to straddle his torso. The flat of my palms find purchase on his chest as I lay myself down. I inhale his scent, cinnamon, musk and all male, and feel a rush sluice through my veins. Lowering myself I press the part of me that aches for him against his cock. I feel it harden beneath me and bite back a smirk. I slide my hands up his broad chest and come to leave them placed on either side of his head as I come flush against him.

Flesh to flesh.

How magnificent it feels.

My blood roars as my heart thunders.

Heat pools in my lower abdomen as evidence of my arousal begins to soak against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Driven by the mad lust I trace his irresistible sinful lips with the tip of my tongue.

Dio mio.

Perhaps now I can understand why so many become easily addicted to drugs, because this man beneath me has become my drug of choice.

Strong hands I have come to love grip my waist. His fingers bite deliciously into my skin. And as his mouth parts I waste no time inserting my tongue as I kiss him with dominance.

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