Page 65 of Veil of Obsession
“Hi.” His voice is too soft, too fucking smooth.
I don’t like it. It’s not who he is.
“Don’t.” I stop him harshly.
Confusion flashes over his features. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t use that stupid fucking tone with me. I’m not fragile.”
At that, he lets out a laugh. “You may not be fragile in the way you think you are. You think I see you as a fragile flower, but in truth, you’re like a fragile bomb that you don’t know when it will go off and blow you to bits.”
I don’t know how to respond to him, and he seems to know that, because instead of pushing the subject where we’re standing, he takes my hand and leads me over to the couch.
“Why did you sneak into my apartment?” he asks as he settles beside me.
“Because I wanted to take back something that’s mine.”
Lucio slips his hand into his gray sweatpants and pulls out his fist before dangling my necklace in front of me, a smirk etched into his face. “Looking for this?”
I press my lips together, unsure what to say.
“Do you always carry it with you?” I finally ask.
“From the moment I found it,” he admits.
I don’t say anything else, and Lucio doesn’t say anything to fill the silence that stretches between us. His eyes roam over my face as if he’s trying to decipherer a puzzle. What I don’t realize is he’s already figured me out, because when I lunge forward to snatch my necklace out of his hand, he moves back and I end up with my face hitting his chest, practically in his lap.
This is fucking awkward. He dangles the necklace near his head now. And not knowing when to fucking quit, I lunge for it again. Which he predicted, again.
This time, I end up actually straddling him, face-to-face. I really want to slap the smug look off his face. He’s such an asshole. I nearly jump when one of his hands slips over my curves and settles over my waist. Lucio throws the necklace behind him.
“Want to try lunging for that again?” he teases before he holds me by the waist with both hands, right above him.
My gaze flicks from his eyes to his lips. It’s for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough that he sees it.
“Why did you not want to see me?” Lucio asks.
I swallow, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Because I knew we’d end up in this position.”
He makes a low noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, his arms encasing my waist, drawing me closer to him.
“And exactly what position would that be?” he asks, his eyes now completely zoned on my lips.
My throat instantly dries, and it feels like I’m in a fucking desert. “An intimate one.”
I make the mistake of wetting my bottom lip with my tongue because Lucio’s gaze instantly grows darker, hotter, more unpredictable. He leans into me, our chests pressed together.
“Want to try a different kind of intimate?” he asks, his voice low, rough, husky.
It only takes me a beat to make my decision, and as soon as I nod, Lucio’s lips are on mine. Hungry, demanding, taking. My nails dig into his shoulders, holding on to him. His kiss is all-consuming, hot and greedy, stealing the breath right from my lungs. His lips move over mine like he’s claiming them, like he’s waited too long for this moment and refuses to waste a second of it.
I press closer, my body molding against his as his fingers tighten around my waist, anchoring me in place. He’s solid beneath me, all heat and muscle, and the scent of him—clean, dark, spice, and something uniquely Lucio—wraps around me like a noose, making it impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, teasing, coaxing, devouring. A deep sound rumbles in his chest when I meet him stroke for stroke, my nails digging into his shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist.
Lucio breaks the kiss just enough to bite my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. My head tips back slightly, a sharp breath escaping me. His lips move lower, grazing the line of my jaw, then down to my throat.
“You taste so fucking good,” he rasps against my skin, his voice thick, reverent.
