Page 60 of Made to Sin

“What?” I snapped.

His eyes were unreadably dark when they landed back on my heavily-done face. “No.”

“No?”

He slid his phone into his pocket. “You’re not going.”

The words from earlier popped into mind. His word might be law here, but I was certainly not a Beneveti who needed to listen.

“I’m starting to think you moved me in here, so you can have someone to boss around.”

He smirked. “Did I make myself so obvious?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t care. I’m going, and you can’t do anything about it.”

I took the remaining steps toward the front door, but right as my hand reached an inch from the knob, he somehow had beaten me to it. His front lightly skimmed against my back as he slammed his palms up against the wood. How in the world did he move so fast? Every day, I believe more and more that he wasn’t human.

“You’re not going to the club at this time,” he repeated.

Annoyance flared in my chest. “What time is it appropriate to go to the club then? Ten in the morning?”

“For you? Never.”

It was childish, but the fact that he didn’t want me to go made it all the more tempting. It was like putting chocolate in front of a depraved kid. I was going to go regardless of what he said.

“Too bad, I’m already dressed and ready to go.”

“I can undress you just as easily, sweetheart,” he whispered near my ear, the soft patters of his breath making me shiver.

The sinful offer reminded me of his twisted kink of being begged. I wasn’t going to win an argument, but persuasion could work. If he wanted to play dirty, so could I.

I turned around and lowered my voice to a sultry timbre. “I want to go, Luciano.”

“Not working, Katarina. It’s not safe for you there.”

“I’ll be careful,” I insisted.

“No.”

His flat tone was unwavering, yet his body told me the opposite. The AC whirled loudly in the background and embraced the house in a sheet of cold air, but heat poured off him in waves.

I softly leaned toward him. “Please.”

“No.”

“Please,you can come with me,”I tried again, this time running my nails along his arm.

I knew I had him when he dropped his hands and curled them into fists. He muttered something I couldn’t catch under his breath, but as long as I got to go, I didn’t care.

“Fine, but don’t think you’re leaving my sight,” he conceded.

Despite the triumph I felt, my body grew delirious with our interaction. It lit up with the need to satisfy him more, the original goal of my actions forgotten.

Merda, I needed to get laid.

Twenty-three years of living without a lover had me aching for pleasure, and he just happened to be the first man who was bold enough to blur the lines. It was no surprise my body grew attached.

Tonight would be the night that changes.

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