Page 492 of Hate Mates

“Antonella?” His dark hair was mussed, falling over his thick brows, like he had already settled into bed for the night.

My mouth moved but no words came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’d like to have a word with you. May I come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing into a tight line.

If he turned me away, everything would be ruined.

Instead, as if fate were on my side, he stepped aside, granting me permission to enter.

Yes!I straightened my spine, careful to keep my plan hidden, and stepped inside.

He closed the door and turned to face me. Despite my taller-than-average height, he still loomed over me, even from three feet away. Tonight, he seemed even more dominating, his hands on his hips while he waited for me to complain about something or ask for my freedom again.

But I had no intention of begging for what I could take for myself.

I pulled on the tail of the bow around my waist, and the robe fell open.

His gaze immediately darkened as it traced and retraced the outline of the black lace teddy that I had found in the closet. It fit like a glove, hugging my curves and spilling ample cleavage over the plunging neckline. My nipples hardened under his intense examination, poking through the sheer fabric.

You’ve got him where you want him. Now, sell it.

I fluffed my loose hair with my fingers, taking extra care when I arched my back not to give my plan away. I tossed thelength of my tresses over one shoulder, the ends cascading over my breast.

His breath quickened, just like mine, his lust countering my unease. I had to remind myself to fill my lungs fully before I passed out.

A deep growl filled the space between us. He was ready to devour me.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he asked, greedily following my hands as they caressed my bare thighs.

Finish him.

I slid a hand between my legs, pressing against the apex.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, hypnotized by what my hand concealed.

Drawing air down deep inside, I deepened my voice into a thick and sultry tone, similar to my singing voice. “It hurts, Lazaro.”

My free hand traced circles around my nipples. I had to hand it to myself—I was so good that I had even convinced my body that it was turned on.

“It’ll hurt more if I touch you,” he warned. “Are you sure you want to go down this path?”

“Please,” I whined as I writhed against my hand, my eyes never leaving his.

He was on me in two steps, his mouth crashing into mine and both of his hands squeezing the back of my neck. His kiss was bruising, rough, and all-consuming. There was no time to think. My body responded out of reflex, parting my lips wider for his tongue and bracing one of my hands on his shoulder for balance.

I fought the dizziness he inflicted, snaking my free hand behind my back. My fingers found the smooth length held in place by the thick strap of my lingerie. The casing that I had fashioned out of a leather makeup pouch dug into my tail bone.

Three.

His hold on me tightened, forbidding me from pushing him away.

Two.

His front pressed against my tits, grazing my aching breasts.

One.

In a flash, I ripped my lips away and pointed the sharp tip of the knife into the pulsating vessel in the side of his neck—Massimo’s extra-sharp chef’s knife.

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