Page 88 of The San Marco Heist

“Does it matter?”

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip, gaze roaming the wall next to us before returning to me. “Before we got Emmett back, I had every intention of finishing what we started on the plane. Maybe even inviting you to spend a few days in Venice with me so we could fully scratch the itch we both obviously have.”

My stomach clenched. I’d hadn’t been sure if I wanted more than one tumble in the sheets with him, but the second those words were out of his mouth, everything was clear. I did want more. “Just an itch?”

He shrugged. “We’ve only known each other a week. It takes time to figure out if there’s more than that.”

I removed his arms from my waist and led him through the sitting room. My former fiancé—was he even former now that he was alive?—had vanished, letting everyone believe he was dead. I couldn’t pass up the one chance I had to find out the truth. Otherwise, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering. “I’m going to San Michele tonight.”

His grip tightened and he halted, bringing me to a stop. “I’m coming with you.”

“I can handle my—”

“I’m not arguing with you over this.” He yanked me to him, so my free hand landed on his broad, muscular chest.

“What are you?” I tilted my head back, licking my lips in invitation. “Jealous?”

His eyes narrowed as he pinned my held hand behind my back. “Yes.”

I blinked. That was supposed to be a tease. We hadn’t known each other long enough for him to be possessive, let alone protective. But there it was. The fierce gleam in his eyes and the way he held on when I mentioned going without him. It wasn’t something I expected. How was I supposed to react to that?

Malcolm had stood up to my mother and was trying to stand up for me now. How had we gotten so far, so fast?

“I’m only going for information.” My chest swelled, and the need I’d felt on the plane threatened to take over my ability to speak. “You’re the one I want. In my bed.”

One breath passed between us, and his lips crashed into mine, stealing my breath and echoing my words in one swift movement. His tongue was in my mouth and his hands on my blouse.

This was what I needed. An explosion of emotions and release. Shutting off my brain. I popped the button on his jeans, while he did the same with my pants. His shirt flew, I undid my own, and we only made it as far as the table with the chairs I’d wanted to smash.

He tossed a foil packet onto the table and ran a hand over my breast. “Pink bra tonight. I like it.”

“I want it fast and hard, Malcolm.” I twisted my fingers in his belt loops and pulled him closer. “Right here.”

“You want to be in control this time?”

“No.” I held him firm, his hardening cock pressed against my abdomen. I lifted on my toes to kiss him, but he avoided my mouth.

“Then take off your pants and underwear.”

I did as I was told, easing them to the floor. Before I could step out of them, he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him. “Table’s too low. That wouldn’t have worked.”

Effortlessly, he swiped the condom and carried me to the bed, tossing me onto the plush covers. “How’s your leg feel?”

“How’s your back feel?”

“Lay down. Spread yourself open for me.” He stood at the foot of the bed and undid his pants, stroking his hard cock once it was free. “I want to taste you, Scarlett.”

I tossed my shirt and bra aside, then shifted backward.

He dropped the pants and crawled over the bed, the mattress dipping with each movement. He retraced his path from the plane, kissing up the inside of my thigh, skipping the part of me that burned for him, climbing up my abdomen.

“Please.”

His long fingers circled my breasts and he squeezed, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then the other. “That’s still not good enough.”

“I said fast and hard, dammit,” I gasped.

“Screw that.”

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