Page 27 of His Little Spitfire

Hardly waiting for the door to shut behind me, I almost cave and flatten her on the bed. Ready to get my hands on her, I force myself to remain still. This is a first for us, and I know she’ll spook if I don’t let her be the one to come to me. Even if she’s feeling victorious now, all that can change if I come at her too quickly.

Turning toward me, she curls her fingers at her side. Slowly, she lifts her hands toward her shoulders. Dragging those thick straps down, my lungs burn as I’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

I’ve never seen her fully naked before, now that I think about it. And now, here she is, willingly letting me watch.

“What changed?” While I still have some sense to myself, I take a step toward her. “Is this some trick?”

Staring at the middle of my chest, she shakes her head. That damn blush of hers is growing darker, teasing me. “You became my husband, and now, everything is different. You’ve ruined me.”

One push, and that’s all it takes for the fabric to hit her ankles. One push and I’mgone.

10

Eliza

Thanks to those silly romance books Bia promises are the best thing in the world, I’ve realized that the reason I don’t want to leave this place is because I care about my captor. My husband.

From the way he’s looking at me now, it might as well settle my suspicions I have about him. He wants me too. That weight behind his stare, the hunger filling his eyes, it’s all coming together.

This man looks like he wants to devour me whole. How can one look from a man be my undoing?

My underwear feels slick against my pussy, soaked with my arousal.

The whole time I sat by my lonesome, waiting for Urzo to find me, I tried to figure out a way to invite him to do something that wasn’t just sex.

I didn’t expect to see him with the smell of blood and death clinging to him. Whatever work he was doing before finding me is pretty obvious. A little part of me hoped remembering who he was would help scare me straight. Instead, I figured out what I wanted to do.

I wanted to help him get rid of all of it. Sure, a shower is only going to end up one way, but it’s an excuse to let me touch him. To get a bit of control back.

Getting this man to drop to his knees isn’t my goal here. However, I want to get my hands on him.

Once Urzo is happy with taking me in from afar, he steps closer. I expect him to throw me over his shoulder and just head to the bathroom. But no, this man isn’t done staring just yet. He’s taking in my body up close.

In my family, I’ve always been the pretty one. I watched what I ate, bought the best brands of makeup, and put a lot of work on my appearance. Rocco never encouraged my behaviors, but he knew the men he invited into our home for business noticed. I’m sure they’ve even asked for my hand, but Rocco was smart.

He wouldn’t dare marry me off unless it benefited him.

Unfortunately, my beauty only gave them the impression that I was a good girl. Obedient and hell, probably the perfect woman to expand their family. All it took was opening my mouth to ruin the image all of them painted.

I’ve opened my mouth plenty around this man, and he still looks at me the same. Well, maybe not the same as he did the first time he found me threatening his men as I charged head-on to save Camellia. The annoyance and disdain aren’t there anymore. Rather, it’s melted away. Now every time I look into his eyes, it’s always a heat melting in the pool of darkness.

My breath catches when he reaches out. His thumb brushes the space between my breasts. They’re not huge or anything, but without a bra giving them a little boost, they’re smaller than I like. I prepare myself for a remark from him, but he doesn’t speak.

No, this man’s brows are furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a difficult puzzle here.

As he moves to cup one of my breasts, my nipples tighten into peaks beneath his gaze. I shiver as he squeezes my breast.

Toes curling into the carpet, my blush spreads lower as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. I hate that I can’t tell from his unreadable expression. Finally, I huff. “What?”

His eyes flick from my rosy buds up to the growing frustration on my face. “You’re beautiful.”

Just like that, I have to fight not to double over. He might as well have punched me in the gut with the way my lungs feel like the air has been stolen right out of them.

I’ve been called beautiful, pretty, and gorgeous all my life by men I wanted nothing to do with.

Urzo says it, and it’s like the compliment has a whole new meaning. He says it in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a doll or a side piece.

“I got my looks from my father. He passed on good genes,” I murmur as I feel every inch of his fingers dragging down my stomach. Soon, he’s hooking a finger against the waistband of my underwear.

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