Page 211 of Kissing the Villain

Two of the creepiest smirks crossed both of their mouths. They were beautiful but terrifying.

Luca beckoned me with his finger, and I moved toward him like I was under a spell. He dug his fingers into my hip and shoved me onto his lap. “Is this how you greet your future husband?”

My lips pulled into a tight line. “I don’t remember you proposing.”

“If memory serves, you said yes a lot last night.”

“I also said,Oh, God. And the last time I checked, you’re not a deity.”

His evil laughter floated through the room.

“I rolled over this morning, I’m not surprised you were gone.” I scowled. “Like old times.”

“Important matters required my attention.”

“More important than me?”

“I’m leaving after breakfast.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I’m going to New York for the day. I have to deal with something for work. Marcello will stay with you until I get back.”

I shook my head, irritated with him. “If I hadn’t come downstairs, would you have said goodbye?”

“Needy isn’t a good look for a queen.”

The Devil had many faces.

This was one of them.

And I was fucking pissed.

“I’ll be home by dinner,” Luca said.

I frowned. “Have a safe trip.”

He tugged on my curls and moved my mouth to his. “Where’s my goodbye kiss?”

I leaned into Luca, and he grabbed the back of my head, fisting my curls in his hand. His lips crashed against mine, rough and possessive, so hard and fast he sucked the air from my lungs. When our lips separated, Luca released his grip on my hair, his haunting blue eyes laser-focused on me. He rolled his thumb across his bottom lip, a sexy gesture that would have made most women melt.

I attempted to slide off Luca’s lap, but he threw his arm across my legs, holding me in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

He nibbled on my earlobe. “Say you’ll marry me.”

“I’d rather watch you beg.”

His hand glided up my stomach as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth. “No, baby, you’ll be the one begging.”

Luca raised his hand, and the butler appeared at his side. “We’ll have a plate of fruit, no pineapple. More toast, fresh butter, and preserves.”

The man bowed his head in acknowledgment and set off toward the kitchen. A few minutes later, the kitchen staff appeared with fresh fruit plates cut into perfect slices and a stack of toast with all the fixings. My stomach rumbled as they set the food on the table.

“I’m hungry,” Luca said.

“So eat.”

He smirked. “Feed me.”

“You have hands.”

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