Page 166 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
"That was never in question." I release her wrist, but she doesn't withdraw her hand. Instead, she smooths my lapel slowly.
"You know," she murmurs, "my father thinks I should be afraid of you."
"Your father is a wise man."
Gabriella steps even closer. "I feel many things here with you, Marco Calabresi, but fear isn't one of them."
I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb, tilting her face up to mine. "What do you feel, then?"
Her eyes darken as she leans into my touch. "Curiosity. Anticipation." She pauses, her lips parting slightly. "Heat."
The word hangs between us, honest and provocative.
"You’re playing with fire, Gabriella Monti," I warn, though my hand now cups her cheek.
"Perhaps," she agrees, reaching up to brush her fingers along the back of my neck, "but some flames are worth the burn."
Fucking hell. I surrender to impulse, pulling Gabriella against me and claiming her mouth with mine.
The control I've maintained my entire life fractures as her lips part beneath mine, eager and responsive.
She tastes like champagne and possibility, a dangerous combination.
Her fingers thread through my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp as she presses herself closer.
The kiss deepens, turning from exploration to demand.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells are clanging, but I don’t heed them.
Instead, I back her against the bookshelf, my hand sliding down to her waist, feeling the heat of her through the silk of her dress until I find the slit of her dress and press my hand along her thigh.
When we break apart, her eyes are dark with desire, her breathing uneven. I should step away. I don't.
"I've wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit," I confess, my voice rough.
Gabriella's smile is triumphant. "I know." She traces my bottom lip with her thumb. "I've seen the way you watch me when you think no one's looking."
"And what else do you think you know about what I want?"
Her laugh is low, seductive. "That you want to discover every inch of me. That you want to know if I'm as fearless in bed as I am facing down the most dangerous Don in New York."
I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheekbone. "You understand that I'm not looking for a wife. I don't do fairy tales or happy endings."
"Who said anything about marriage?" Her eyes flash with challenge. "Perhaps I just want to know if the great Marco Calabresi lives up to his reputation."
"Careful, Gabriella. You might get more than you bargained for."
She leans forward, her lips brushing my ear. "Or you might." Her teeth graze my earlobe, sending heat coursing through me. “Live a little, Don Calabresi.”
Her words ignite something primal in me. I back her against the mahogany desk. “Is that what you do, live a little?”
“Oh, no. I live a lot. Usually, it’s hot air ballooning in New Mexico or skiing in the Alps or looking for faeries in Scotland.”
“So you don’t fuck random men for adventure.” I lift her onto the polished surface, my hands sliding up her thighs as her dress rides higher.
Books and papers scatter to the floor.
I should care.
