Page 70 of Pietro
Her fingers thread through my hair. "Pietro, we can't. It's late, and?—"
I silence her with a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her shiver. "I want to be balls deep in you again."
"Someone might be here soon."
I sigh, reluctantly releasing my grip on Nora's thighs. "Fine. But this isn't over."
Her cheeks flush as she steps back, straightening my shirt. "I should hope not."
I reach for my phone, checking messages while she watches me. Fuck. Damiano Feretti has agreed to meet today. The timing couldn't be worse.
"I have to meet with Damiano Feretti today," I tell her, running a hand through my hair.
Nora nods, her expression shifting to something more guarded. It reminds me that we still have unfinished business beyond the bedroom.
"Speaking of things that need resolving," I say, my voice hardening slightly. "You were going to tell me some things today."
She freezes, her fingers stilling on the buttons of my shirt. For a moment, I think she might bolt from the room.
"I know," she says finally. "And I will. But first, let me make us some coffee."
I narrow my eyes. Classic deflection, but I'm too tired to argue. "Fine."
She turns back to my closet, pulling out a pair of my pants. They're ridiculously large on her small frame, but she rolls the waistband several times until they somewhat stay up.
"I'll be right back," she says.
I watch her leave, appreciating the sight of her in my clothes. Whatever she's hiding, it's big enough to terrify her.
The door closes behind her, and I stand, grabbing a pair of pants from the closet.
A few minutes later, while I'm waiting for Nora to return, I hear my brother's voice echoing down the hallway.
"Pietro! Where the fuck are you?"
Christ. Not even ten minutes of peace. I grab a shirt, not bothering with buttons as I yank open the door.
Nico stands in the hallway, his face contorted with rage. His normally immaculate appearance is disheveled—tie askew, hair mussed like he's been running his hands through it.
"What?" I snap.
He storms toward me, jabbing a finger at my chest. "Where the hell is Nora?"
The possessive fury that rises in me is immediate and overwhelming. "Watch your tone."
Nico hisses, lowering his voice but not his intensity. "Where the hell is she?"
NORA
I pad down the hallway in Pietro's oversized clothes, feeling both ridiculous and strangely comforted by being wrapped in his scent. The executive floor is empty. A small mercy considering my appearance screams "just got thoroughly fucked by the boss."
In the small kitchen, I find the Italian coffee beans Pietro keeps stocked. My hands tremble slightly as I measure them intothe grinder. The familiar ritual steadies me as I try to organize my thoughts.
I need to tell him everything. Today. No more excuses.
The coffee machine hums to life, and I lean against the counter, inhaling the rich aroma. Last night changed everything. The way Pietro touched me, looked at me, fucked me… I can't keep lying to him.
But God, the truth will destroy whatever this is between us.
