Page 81 of Ruthless Saint

“What about it?” She stiffens in my arms, defensive.

“No,Fata,” I say softly. “Your brain is fucking fantastic. Ican’t keep up with you sometimes. It’s quick, sharp, witty, and fuck me, the sexiest thing you’ve got. And that’s saying something ‘cause you’re a fucking vision, Alessa.” I chuckle as her mouth falls open.

“You like my brain?”

“I do.” I place a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Terence is a bird,” she mumbles.

“A bird?” I laugh. “You see what I mean? And why, pray tell, do you call me Terence?”

“He’s the biggest and scariest looking of all the Angry Birds,” she mutters into the lapel of my jacket.

I burst out laughing. “So, now I’m a big, scary Angry Bird?”

“He’s also red,” she narrows her eyes. “The same colour your whole face goes when you get into a hissy fit.”

The fuck? “I don’t dohissy fits.” I unwrap my arms from around her and cross them in front of my chest.

She cocks her hip, placing her hand atop it. “Point proven.” She motions her finger in the air.

“Alessa,” I growl. “Don’t push me. This is not a hissy fit. This is a man defending his manhood.”

“Potato-patatho.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I was in the pool because I was trying to get off and couldn’t, so I figured if I can’t breathe underwater, it will feel like when you had your hand around my neck.” She shrugs nonchalantly as the world around me comes into a lust filled focus.

“You what?” I lick my lips, my arms no longer crossed in front of my chest but by my side, fists clenching and unclenching.

She sucks in her bottom lip as I take a step forward, closing the space between us. “You want me to repeat all that?” she squeaks.

I nod. “Preferably with very graphic details on whereyour fingers were, what they were doing, and what that beautiful brain of yours was thinking about.”

“You,” she whispers. Her mouth now inches from mine. “I was thinking of you.”

“Fuck,” I growl.

36

ALESSA

Dante’s hands dig into my hips as he effortlessly lifts me up. My legs instinctively circle his midsection, locking at his back.

“Alessa.” His forehead touches mine. There is a strain in his voice. “I want to do bad things to you.”

“Do them,” I urge, rolling my hips against the erection I can feel pressing between my thighs.

“I’m trying to restrain myself, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do them all.” I grind against him once more, needing his heat, his body. Needing something to connect us. “Please.” My voice breaks.

“Fuuuck.” His breathing is shallow. “How can I deny you when you beg me so nicely.”

“Please, Dante. I need you. I want you.”

It is only when we’re by the stairs I realise we’ve been moving. He stops at the bottom of the staircase, fists the flowy material of my red dress and rips the bottom off in one quick move. I gasp, because, holy hell, that was hot, but also because that’s over a thousand dollars now lying on the floor.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more like it. But this one was getting in my way. It had to go,” he says as he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Fuck, yes! His bedroom again. The land where good things happen to my pussy and everything smells like Dante Santoro. This time, I’m not going to hesitate. I’m not going to stop him. There’s no denying I want him, and if this past week of him being distant was meant to put me off, well, then it failed. It fuelled the fire, and it made me want him even more.

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