Page 50 of The Cost of Corruption

Matteo didn’t blink as his eyes locked with mine. Just the sight of him was enough to make me shiver.

It had to be the wine, but at that moment, I would have sworn that his gaze was a physical thing. That I could feel it moving over me. Caressing me. Stroking me and drawing me closer all at the same time.

The sensation was so overwhelming that I squirmed in my seat, unsure how to handle it. The expectant silence hanging between us didn’t help. If anything, it only strengthened his pull on me.

Eventually, I managed to look away. My gaze darted around the empty restaurant, looking for a place to settle. But there wasn’t any safe place to be found.

Not when I couldfeelhim.

This was ridiculous. There was no mystical connection between me and Matteo. I couldn’t actually feel his gaze. It was just the wine muddying up my thoughts again.

The wine and a decade’s worth of pathetic, hopeless fantasies.

“It’s late,” I said, already starting to slide out of the booth. “We should go.”

“No.” The moment I stood, Matteo was at my side, his hands gripping my shoulders. This close, he was so much taller that I had to crane my head back just to meet his gaze. “We’re not leaving. Not yet.”

“But we’re done with dinner,” I tried.

“True,” he said. “But I’m not done with you.”

I shook my head and felt the room slowly spin. Between the wine and the closeness of his body, I could barely think.

“I’m not in the mood to talk anymore,” I said.

His hands slid down from my shoulders and encircled my waist.

“Good. Because neither am I,” he said, lifting me up off the floor.

A startled gasp escaped my lungs as he set me down on the edge of the table, but it was cut off an instant later when his lips crashed down on mine. The taste of wine still clung to his tongue as it swept over my mouth.

I couldn’t resist drinking him in.

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His palms drifted down from my waist to my thighs, his fingers curling into the material of my dress and pushing it up.

Once my knees were exposed, he pushed them apart and slid into the gap.

The simple feel of my legs wrapped around his hips was far sexier than it had any right to be. The feel of his fine suit against my bare skin sent a shiver straight through me.

And the pressure of his groin pressing against mine? It was almost too much to take.

But that didn’t keep me from wanting more.

So much more.

The passion of his kiss and the power of his body lit a fire of pure desire inside me. A hunger I’d never felt before—one I couldn’t even name—took over, and I found myself grinding my hips against him just to feel more.

It didn’t take long for that pressure I’d felt before to start building again.

But this time, we weren’t in a private place. We were in the middle of a restaurant. An empty one—sure—but right outside those drawn curtains were the streets of Manhattan.

Over our labored breaths, I could make out the sounds of cars passing by. Of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Of life happening all around us.

“Matteo,” I struggled to say between gasps of breath. “We can’t do this here.”

“Why not?” he growled against my ear as his hand slipped down into the sliver of space between us.

A moan escaped my lips as his fingers found that spot again—the one that melted away my uncertainty and good sense. My back arched, and his kisses shifted from my mouth to the column of my neck, sending brand-new ripples of sensation out over my skin.

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