Oh,boy.
“Gotta tell you, Delilah,” he murmurs, voice gravelly. “Your outfits get more intriguing every time we crosspaths.”
I hold my ground, feigning aloofness even as my face turns red enough to rival the shade ofmyhair.
“As if you’re a maven of fashion.” I narrow my eyes at his attire. “Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black boots. I’m sensing a theme. What, you afraid a little color will make you lessintimidating?”
“Less?” He takes a purposeful step into my space, then leans in until his mouth is only a handful of inches away. Of their own accord, my thighs squeeze together as I watch that mouth twist into a smirk. “That mean you’re finally admitting you find meintimidating?”
“No,” I breathe, staring at his lips —God, why can’t I stop staring at his lips?— before I tear my eyes up to his. “Notatall.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
So fast I barely see him coming, he closes the distance between us until our bodies are flush together. I gasp as we collide, as every hard line of his body presses up against my curves in an electrifying impact. It’s a shocking invasion of privacy; an intimate, unsettlingembrace.
I’m instantlyfurious.
Notturnedon.
Atall.
No matter that my weak knees and screaming nerve endings might suggestotherwise.
“So, when I do this…” Luca whispers, his hand landing on the small of my back in the barest of touches. I feel the callused tips of his fingers, light as butterfly wings, against my exposed skin. As with every other time he’s touched me, I find myself marveling at his ability to wield such brutal instruments with unparalleled gentleness. There’s something about a man like Luca, who could crush me without blinking, beingtenderthat damn nearkillsme.
“This doesn’t make younervous?”
“N-no,” Istammer.
Shit.
His index finger trails agonizingly slow up the indentation of my spine, sending shockwaves through my system. When he reaches the strap of my bra he stops, poised at the clasp. One skilled flick of his fingers and I’ll be completely exposedtohim.
Back up! Move away, now!Somewhere in the back of my mind, my last sliver of common sense is screaming.Why aren’t youmoving?
That sensible suggestion is quickly drowned out by a chorus of other voices. Voices that whisper dangerousthings.
It’s been such aterribleweek…
You’ve been sostressed…
His hands will feelsogood…
He can help youforget…
You’ve wanted him forsolong…
Luca’s mouth lowers toward mine, until we’re practically kissing. I feel my lips part in preparation, inanticipation…
Blessedly, the dog at my feet lets out a low whine, indignant at our lack of attention. The sound makes me jump. Common sense returns in aflash.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss, pulling out of his grip and backpedaling away, cursing myself for practically losing my mind. And maybemybra.
Luca’s smirk gets even more pronounced. “Proving apoint.”
“And that would be?” I ask, not meetinghiseyes.