Page 16 of Fierce Protector

I don’t say anything and continue to sweep up the floor, keeping my eyes cast down. Avoiding the giant white box on the counter, he’s been glaring at it since he sat down.

“Are we going to discuss this?” he pushes, flicking the side of the box, and I shrug. “Come on, Katerina. You told me he’d stopped.”

“And he had. This is new,” I say quietly. He’s not going to like this next bit, so instead of explaining, I fish the card out of the box and hand it to him. His face turns puce, and his neck flushes with rage. I mentally chastise my body for the reaction it has to his unhinged level of fury.

He doesn’t say a word to me, just pulls out his phone and starts barking through gritted teeth. “I need you to pick up a Danny Castello and deliver him to one of Etta’s ‘guest suites’.” There’s a brief pause before Stefano snaps, “This. Is. Your. Priority.”

He hangs up on what I assume is Marcus, his numbertwo, and shoves his phone back in his pocket before steadying himself against the counter.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” I whisper, refusing to look up from the dustpan that’s resting, still full of glass, on the counter.

He moves around the island. “Stand up, Katerina.” I swallow hard at the tone of his voice. It’s commanding and indisputable and sends a flurry of need coursing through my body. I gasp when the soft pad of his index finger hooks under my jaw and demands I meet his gaze.

His irises are flecked with a kaleidoscope of blues that glimmer and shift under the muted lighting. It’s unfair how easily I can be trapped in his gaze. Any time I stare too long, it’s like I’m being pulled in by some kind of magnetic force.

“We did this your way. Now we’re going to do it mine.” His voice is so low I can feel the authority of his words vibrating in the air between us. “He needs to back the fuck off.”

I shift my weight as I clench my thighs together. For a moment I say nothing, but when his brow arches, it compels me to respond. I whisper, “Yes, Stefano.”

There’s a guttural rumble of approval that grates in the back of his throat as he savours my words. “Say that again.”

My body lights up. Revelling in the reaction I’m drawing from him. A smile pulls at my cheeks as I lean in, close enough to feel his breath feather across my face. “Yes, Stefano.”

I lean back, catching his pupils dilate, and I know I’mdone for. His now dark orbs bore into mine, and it’s like I’m being claimed from the inside out.

Oh, I am so screwed.

Every cell in my body is screaming at me to throw caution to the wind and climb this man like a tree. I’m still arguing the pros and cons in my head when he moves.

His lips descend and there’s no stopping the desperate moan that escapes me as his tongue tangles with mine and we fight to steal the air from each other’s lungs. It’s wanton and passionate and about goddamn time.

He breaks the kiss, leaving me panting while he takes in our surroundings. He glares at the box of roses before letting out a little roar of frustration and hurls them off the counter to the floor. Wrapping his arms around my waist, drawing out a gasp of shock as he manhandles me on to the cold granite worktop. I let my legs fall open, eager to touch him as he steps forward, advancing on me like a predator.

The energy between us is electric. His hands grip my hips while mine claw at his chest, trying to burrow under his shirt. I lose myself in the rhythm of his tongue as it glides against mine. He tastes better than I remember, and as I struggle not to lose myself in the flavour of him, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. He smells of oak and amber and whiskey, and it seduces my senses. This is reckless and will only come back to bite me in the ass, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Stefano’s hand traces a meandering path upwards.The pressure is faint, but every featherlight touch ignites a fire within me that flows through my veins and flourishes in my core. I moan when his fingers dance across my waist and trace the swell of my breasts. He doesn’t stop until his palm is firmly on the side of my neck, tilting my head until I’m at the angle he demands. It allows him to deepen the kiss, and I feel almost ravaged as his lips take what they need from me. The only thoughts in my head are ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘this is everything I’ve ever wanted’.

I stutter a little groan, both loving and hating how desperate his touches are making me feel. I flex my fingers and drag my nails down his back, which has the opposite effect to the one I want when he pulls back and I whine at the loss.

Stefano quirks a devilish smile at me as he lifts his arms and starts to unbutton his shirt. “If you’re going to use me as your personal scratch post,micetta, I might as well give you unrestricted access.”

Kitten.The nickname should make me bristle. It should feel like a bucket of cold water being thrown over me, dowsing any ember of arousal, but instead, I’m almost giddy.

“So thoughtful, Uncle Stef.”

The minute the words leave my mouth, his expression darkens. He reaches forwards and threads his fingers through the hair at the base of my scalp, gripping tightly, his eyes boring into mine. “Don’t ever call me that again. I’m not your fucking uncle.”

Despite how tightly he’s gripping my hair, there’s nothing aggressive about it. I don’t feel threatened in anyway. I feel protected. I feel cherished. “What do you want me to call you?”

His face softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips along the slope of my neck in delicate kisses, his warm and reverent attentions chasing shivers across my skin. “You can call me anything but that.”

“I don’t think giving me that kind of leeway is a good idea,vecchietto.”

He growls. “You’re playing with fire,micetta. Call me ‘old man’ again. I dare you.”

“So grouchy.”

“Keep pushing me and you’ll end up over my knee.”

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