“I’m thorough.” His dark gaze drops heavily to my mouth. “I read every single word. Twice. You wanted us to know exactly what you were doing alone in the dark.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You know enough.” Nick shifts his weight. He presses his hard thigh directly against mine. “You know we’re dangerous. You know your brother brought us here because things in the city are getting bloody.”
“I am a Costa. I am not afraid of Dominic’s business.”
“You should be.” Nick’s smirk vanishes entirely. His expression turns completely feral. “You’re standing in a glass house, Lucia. And the wolves are already inside.”
The air in the kitchenette grows dangerously thick. The sexual tension is a living, breathing entity in the tiny space between our bodies.
I don’t back down. I can’t afford to show weakness. Not to a man who looks at me like I am his next meal.
I lift my right hand. I press my thumb against my lower lip. I drag the pad of my thumb slowly across the full, bottom curve in a calculated, soothing swipe.
Nick’s eyes flare violently.
His pupils blow wide open, instantly swallowing the dark color of his irises.
He tracks the slow movement of my thumb like a starving man watching a feast. His jaw clenches so hard a thick muscle ticks fiercely in his cheek. His breathing hitches, turning ragged and uneven.
“Stop that,” Nick orders. His voice is a harsh, agonizing rasp.
“Stop what?” I challenge softly. I drop my hand back to my side.
“Playing games.” He leans fully into my airspace. “I told you downstairs in the foyer, Principessa. I draw the lines. You cross them, I’m the one who doles out the consequences.”
“I am a grown woman. I don’t need a bodyguard assigning me detention.”
Nick lets out a low, incredibly dark chuckle. “Detention isn’t what I have in mind for you.”
“She’s lying.”
The rough, gravelly voice shatters the heavy moment.
I jump. I look past Nick’s broad shoulder.
Rafe stands at the entrance to the kitchenette. He completely blocks the only exit.
He has abandoned the balcony windows. He stands with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His tattoos peek out from the rolled sleeves of his black henley.
He stares at me with pure, unfiltered suspicion.
Nick doesn’t step back. He doesn’t give me an inch of breathing room. He just turns his head slightly.
“Introduce yourself, Beast,” Nick commands.
Rafe pushes off the doorframe. He takes two slow, aggressive steps into the tiny kitchen.
The temperature in the room skyrockets.
“I’m Rafe,” he states. He doesn’t offer his hand.
He looks at my mouth. He looks at the heavy, dark hair spilling over my shoulders. His golden eyes drop to the deep plunge of my emerald dress.
He inhales slowly through his nose. He catches the scent of my rose perfume again.
Another deep, painful growl rumbles in his chest. His hands flex at his sides. He looks like he wants to throttle me and drag me into his lap at the exact same time.