Page 45 of The Fixer

Do that again, please, dear God, I need it. . . “One,” I say, throwing my head back in utter abandon. “You.”

He makes a low noise in his throat, and I can’t tell if he’s pleased with my answer or unhappy. “Why?” he demands, cupping my breasts with both hands and squeezing them together as if he can’t get enough of them. He kisses my throbbing nipples and sucks hard, trapping them between his teeth. “Tell me.”

What is it about my virginity that has him so fascinated? Everyone’s a virgin at some point in their lives. It’s honestly not that interesting. “It’s none of your business, orsacchiotto mio,” I say sweetly. “Besides, I already told you why. I was never attracted to anyone.”

“To sleep with them, yes. But to do this?” He scratches his nails gently over the swollen tips, and the rush of pleasure leaves me momentarily speechless. “You never wanted a man to do that to you?”

Don’t stop.

“I wanted to feel. . . passion. Raw desire. An all-consuming thirst.” I inhale sharply as his hands move lower, slipping inside my waistband. He’s just inches away from my pussy, and I want. . .more.Everything.“I never found it.” I look into his eyes, those ocean-blue eyes whose depths I want to drown in. “Until now.”

His hand stops its slow progress toward my clit, and he bites off a swear. “What the fuck am I doing?” he grinds out. “You’re so fuckingyoung.I lost my virginity before you were born, for fuck’s sake. I fell in love before you took your first steps. Now you’re stuck with me, and I’m the worst kind of asshole there is. Because I’m going to take everything you’re offering and more.”

Leo was in love? With whom?“You can’t take it from me if I give it to you first,” I pant into his skin. He smells like musk and sandalwood, soap and sweat. My heart is pounding, my body feels feverish. I lace my fingers into his hair and tug him close. “And I do.”

He swears out loud, and his grip on my breasts tightens. “Please,” I gasp. It was all worth it: the endless uninspired first dates, the long wait for passion, the nights where I lay awake in the dark andwondered if I was holding out for something that didn’t exist. “Please, I need. . .”

“Tell me, principessa,” he says. “Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.”

I need his fingers and his mouth on my nipples, and I need them on my clit, and I need them now. “Don’t stop,” I beg. “Just don’t stop.”

He lavishes attention on my breasts until they’re heavy and aching. “I wanted to suck this nipple into my mouth the first time I saw you,” he says harshly. His hand grabs my ass. “At the beach today, I wanted to sink my teeth right here. The entire world could have been watching, and I wouldn’t have cared.”

I wouldn’t have cared either.

He tugs me closer so I can feel the hard throb of his erection against my hip. He kisses me again, a slow, lingering kiss that leaves me breathless. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he says into my mouth.

I want to feel him everywhere. “You too.” My fingers curl into his shirt, fabric bunching in my palms. “Take this off.”

He complies, and I drink him in. His broad chest is sprinkled with a smattering of chest hair. His taut stomach, corded with muscle. And the scars, so many scars. They tell the story of a lifetime of bloodand violence, and I want to kiss each and every one of them.

I run my hands all over, graze my thumbs over his nipples, and trace his scars with my fingertips. One mark on his side, fresher than the others, is still an angry red and looks as if his flesh was gouged out by a blunt object. “Where did you get this one?” I ask, stroking it gently.

“It’s nothing.”

“And you’re avoiding answering my question.” I can’t stop touching him. His skin is warm, almost hot, and his muscles flex in response to my touch. “Tell me.”

He trails his hand down the curve of my breast. “When Angelica got kidnapped, we figured out where she was being held. We headed over there in a hurry, and I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. I ran into a bullet.” He shrugs. “It was a graze. Nothing serious.”

He’s clearly fine. Joking about it, even. But my heart still jumps in my throat. Leo got shot. It could happen again. He’s the security head of the Venice Mafia, and he’s in danger more often than not. “Valentina didn’t tell me you got hurt.”

“I asked her not to.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses my palm and thensucks a finger into his mouth. A live current of desire jolts through me. “I don’t want you to worry about me.Ever.” His lips curl into a wickedly sexy smile. “I took off my shirt,” he points out. “I think it’s only fair that you reciprocate.” He slides his hand into my waistband and cups my mound, and all my thoughts and worries evaporate. “Take off your pajamas.”

I slide them down my hips. Leo’s fingers hook in the waistband of my panties, and he tugs them down. I step out of the pool of fabric, and he kicks them away.

Then this man, who can snap a man into half with his bare hands, kneels in front of me. He looks up, an anticipatory hunger in his eyes, his entire focus on me. “Spread your legs, principessa.”

I obey.

Leo puts his hands on my thighs and pushes them apart. He kisses me everywhere—hungry, possessive kisses on my stomach and my hips—and desire stabs me so hard I almost buckle. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for months,” he growls, biting my inner thigh. “From the day that fucking strap slipped down your shoulder, and I first set eyes on your perfect, round breast. . .”

His fingers part my folds. I take an instinctive step back, clenching my eyes shut with pleasure, andmy ass hits the wall. He exhales a breath on my clit, and a shiver runs through me. “So wet,” he hisses. “So fucking wet.” I open my eyes to see him looking at me, his expression hot and glazed with lust. “Have you touched yourself here, Rosa?”

Have I— “Leo,” I say crossly. “I’m a virgin; I’m not clueless. Of course, I’ve touched myself. I’m an expert at getting myself off.”

“Excellent.” His smile widens with satisfaction. “Show me.”

Oh.Oh.I flush as his suggestion sinks in. “I can’t.”

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