Page 25 of Ruthless Boss

For example, when he told me I was not like every girl, I wondered when I would have that fleeing sensation of being the center of someone's life again, even if only for a moment. If anything,today, I should feel special. It's the hallmark of birthdays.

Dante lets out a chuckle, then lowers his attention to my lips. "Never. I've never given Zenovia or any other employee those gifts."

A measure of relief loosens my shoulders. "Then why me?"

He dips his head lower, so close to me I can feel his breath. "Because every time I'm near you, my dear nanny, all I can think of is fucking you."

His words are the last stab against my feeble resistance.

"You fucked me already," I say, my voice low, his mouth so close to mine that our lips brush as I speak, and sparks of sexual awareness course through me. Damn it. Why does he have to say that?

He scoops me from the floor, and I wrap my legs around him. "That wasn't enough."

"When will it be?" I ask, my eyes entranced by his.When will it be enough for me?I'm worried about his response, but more than anything, I'm scared to death of my own.

"Let's find out," he says before slamming his lips on mine.

14

Gia

Dante kisses me, and I circle my arms around his neck, loving how close we are. Our mouths explore each other, our tongues stroking, our breaths mingling. A powerful current of heat flows through me from head to toe, and suddenly, this is the best birthday I've ever had.

He devours my mouth like I'm his lifeline. His cock pokes me, and I shiver as a shock of emotional response comes down on me too quickly—so quickly, I'm lightheaded. He slams me against the wall, and I clench my legs around him tighter, loving the closeness, the heat sifting through our clothes.

He wrenches his mouth from mine, and we're both panting like we just ran miles and miles, jumping obstacles for good measure. "Lucia... you're insane."

"I want you so much," I say. "I can't wait."

"You're a greedy girl, aren't you?"

"Yes." How can I tell him I've never been this way before? Not outwardly. A part of me longed to experience passion, but I knew that idea was so far removed from my reality that I tucked it away. But now, these raw, tender, exhilarating emotions fill my body like the air I breathe. "I'm greedy for you."

"Until when?" He throws me on the bed, my robe loosening in the process. Then, he folds his knee onto the mattress and leans closer, undoing the rest of my knot and opening my robe.

"Let's find out," I say, wiggling out of the robe like I'm on fire.

He removes his jacket and tosses it on the floor, but I happily volunteer to pull his shirt up, over his head, and then his jeans. The minute he stands wearing only his black briefs, my breath catches in my throat. Dante is gorgeous. The way his muscles bunch as he moves, the tattoos swirl on his strong arms, his kissable lips curl at the corner of his mouth—his perfection wrapped into a dangerous package.

Maybe I can make him… less perfect.

I prop myself on my elbows, scoot on the bed until I reach the nightstand, and grab the cupcake he gave me. I remove the wrapper and lift it as he watches me with purposeful, hungry eyes.

A bad memory flashes through my brain, but I will it away. I replace it with the image from the last time I had sex—with the man who's now under me, wearing nothing but a sexy smile that curls my toes.

I scoop the frosting from the cupcake and smother it on his chest. He raises his eyebrow as I spread the sugary icing on his pecs and down his abs. Then, I push him down on the mattress and lean over him, running my tongue on his chest.

"You like chaos," he says, folding his arm under his head.

"Iamchaos." I rub the crumbles on his chest like I'm giving him an exfoliating massage. My gaze locks with his, and I feel the air disappear from the room. He's looking at me intently, almost sternly, like he’s wondering how much of a headache this attraction to me is.

He runs his free hand down my body, starting with a squeeze of my breasts, touching me with intense precision as if he wants to ensure every body part is accounted for. His hand on me turns me on regardless of his intent, and I sway my hips on top of him, fidgeting, the pulse between my legs picking up speed.

When he reaches the region of my lower abdomen, he traces his finger over the outline of my vertical scar. It could have been more discreet or smaller had Ciro taken me to a real hospital instead of the cheap rundown clinic of someone he knew.

"Are you second-guessing my birthday gift?" I ask, betrayed by the wavering in my voice.

"No," he answers, his finger still on my scar. "Just wondering how come it gets to be your gift when I'm the lucky one."

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