Page 57 of Precious Hazard

“Fuck,” he sighs, moving his big hand to cover the half of his face not smashed into a pillow. “I need to get back to the office. Meant to catch a couple of hours at mo…”

Silence. I wait for him to continue, but instead of words, his deep rhythmic breaths fill the room. He’s asleep again. Should I wake him?

I poke his bulging biceps. “DeVille.”

“Ma lasciami dormire,” he mumbles into his pillow.

Holy shit. His voice is even more seductive when he speaks Italian. Husky, spellbinding, like a purr. I’m certain whatever he said wasn’t an invitation to join him but, damn it, it sure sounded like that to me.

I poke him again, but he doesn’t even stir. Is he dead? No, I wouldn’t be that lucky.

My eyes glide along his trunk-like arm, cataloging the shapes inked into his skin. A thin gray snake is coiled twice around his wrist before it winds its way among the depicted foliage. Part of its body disappears behind a wicked-looking human skull on DeVille’s upper forearm. The wings of some sort of mythical creature hug his massive biceps and triceps, and above it all, a dagger with a ribbon attached to the hilt. A word I can’t quite make out is etched upon the wavy strip. I tilt my head, trying to get a better look, but all I can make out isl’On.

I shouldn’t be so eager to inspect the tattoos on my husband. Actually, nothing about Arturo DeVille should hold my interest, but I still find myself leaning closer, stretching to decipher the inked script. Ha! The first word isl’Onore, but there’s more. I brace on one leg, holding my arms out for balance to get to a better angle. If I stretch just a bit more, I could—

My foot slips.

I throw my hand in front of me to regain my equilibrium, only to end up sprawled on top of my husband. “Shi—”

He moves faster than a damn ninja. One second, I’m flopped over him, and the next, I’m on my back, pinned under a fuming mountain of hard muscle. My wrists are secured above my head in Arturo’s hands, and he’s glaring down at me.

“Tara?” He blinks as his expression morphs from a murderous snarl into a perplexed frown. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly!” I try to wriggle free. “Let me go!”

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“I’m not in your bed!”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“It was an accident, okay? I was trying to get a better look at your tat, and I slipped. Now, release me.”

“I think this is the first time a woman has ended up in my bedby accident.”

My mouth falls open, preparing to deftly send him to hell, only for me to be completely ensnared by the wicked glint in his eyes. Eyes that are entirely focused on my lips. His hair is somehow even more tousled, making him look a little wild and all kinds of sexy. It’s like he’s suddenly become a totally different man than the uptight jerk I’ve come to know and hate. The sleek, decorous, and exacting Arturo DeVille has always been a sight to behold, albeit an extremely irritating one. But this… I never could have imagined him like this. Disheveled. Slightly feral-looking. Smelling of clean soap and shampoo, without any trace of that rich blend of exotic spices and earthy sensuality of the cologne he always wears.

The rumpled Arturo DeVille is a thousand times hotter.

My breath hitches in my lungs. And I can’t seem to make my limbs move. Or maybe I just don’t want to. Having Arturo DeVille—a very naked Arturo DeVille—crushing me into the mattress beneath him is intoxicating. An experience that sets off an ache deep in my core and makes my clit throb.

Desire. Desire floods me, spreading tingles over every part of my body.

My throat goes dry at the memory of those sinister lips on mine. My fingers itch to reach out and muss that hair, all so I can revel in knowing that it was I, and not sleep, that left him this way. The cross dangling off his chain draws my eyes to his collarbone. It’s an undeniably sexy collarbone. I want to reach out and stroke it with the tip of my finger. Or maybe my tongue. What would it feel like to—

No!

Stop.

I shut my eyes, trying to force the mental images of him fucking me, hard, right here and now, out of my head.

“Are you sure it wasn’t intentional?” His gravelly, deep whisper rolls over me as his warm breath feathers the shell of my ear. He sounds like sin personified, like the devil he is. Tempting me into his villainous lair, to do dark, lustful deeds that I should, but I’m not sure I would, regret. “If you want to broaden the articles covered in our prenup,gattina, all you have to do is ask.”

“Keep dreaming, Satan.” Channeling as much strength as I can, I yank my arms out of his hold and shove his chest, pushing him off me. The instant I’m free, I scramble off the bed. “I’d rather screw a toaster.”

Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, I turn on my heel and swiftly flee back to my room. And I make sure to send the door sliding hard against its twin as I shut it. Anticipating a loud bang, I’m a bit disappointed when it connects with a soft thud.Damn modern conveniences!

“What a jerk,” I mumble as I cross my room and then head downstairs in search of some food.

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