Rosa

Chapter 23

Spanning the same second, a contradictory shift seemed to occur in Mr. Massera. His muscles eased around Rosa even while his demeanor tensed with caution.

The man was either withholding something from her or gearing up to play more mind games.

She couldn't tell which way the wind would blow.

In cool, impartial tones, Mr. Massera muttered, "I know about Vosa, but what makes you think that I am tied to him?"

Only one way to find out.

Rosa sighed, "Drop the act."

The bastard did just the opposite as he asked innocently, "What act?"

She laid her hand upon his chest and nestled her face into the crook of his shoulder, whispering against the collar of his shirt, "I thought you wanted to get your money's worth with me?"

His breath hitched slightly at her sudden closeness. "I... did. I do."

She swallowed a knowing smile.

Her effect on him was quite noticeable.

Moments ago, after Mr. Massera had made it clear that he didn't hold the past against her, that he still considered her to be 'fucking perfect' from head to toe, Rosa felt inspired once more to use her charms to soften his resolve.

In truth, his acceptance over the ugliest parts of her old life meant more than Rosa could bring herself to verbalize.

As her hand rested on his chest, the man reached over to grasp it. He began caressing her palm with his thumb, drawing light, absent-minded circles and lines here and there. Pleasure prickled across her skin.

Her mouth ghosted along his neck, kissing him gently, here, there, while telling him, "I have been a good girl. I put in the overtime just for you, Monsieur Massera."

Mr. Massera protested quietly as Rosa continued to rain kisses along his jawline, but, this time, he didn't seem to possess the will to turn her away. Every kiss, every touch, appeared to chip away at his discipline a little more.

Soon, his other hand trailed down the slope of her back, gripping her rounded ass, to haul her towards him. As her mound pressed against his crotch, she could feel his shaft, rising, rousing, through the thin barriers of her blanket and his pants. He was getting hard as fuck. She was naked. Her pussy fluttered in response. It was as though her body already recognized the pleasure this man could give her.

Voice taut, he rasped, "What have you done, Miss Lenoir?"

Rosa didn't know whether his accusation was directed towards her 'overtime' activities—or the effect she was having on his cock. She wasn't able to respond right away. His next move mesmerized Rosa, leaving her breathless and enthralled.

Mr. Massera lifted her hand to his face. Without breaking eye contact, he swept his lips across her knuckles, kissed her fingertips one by one, and planted one final searing kiss into the palm of her hand.

Sparks of lust flared between them, and Rosa realized that she was beginning to fall for her own trap. The temptress was becoming tempted. Her skin yearned for more of his touch. She wanted him to keep kissing her, to keep making her feel as though she mattered to him.

She blamed Mr. Massera for making her weak.

He was quite possibly the most fuckable male she had ever laid eyes on. Even more so now that Rosa better understood how he carried himself as a man. He had been able to look beyond the surface and see her faceted dimensions, more so than anyone else, as a woman, a killer, and a survivor. She became human in his eyes. That alone made all the difference.