Diavolo

xvi

SILVIO ROSSI

Once again, I'd lost control. It seemed to be the pattern whenever she was concerned. An pattern that was slowly turning out to be routine, a state of mind. Something of a becoming.

I'd finally done it, touched her, gotten a little taste of her and fuck it if she wasn't the sweetest thing ever.

And the funny thing was, I'd been so terrified of touching her because I was always worried I wouldn't be able to handle it but now I wasn't sure if she could handle me. And everything that came with me.

Touching her was freeing, slipping away the little piece of armor that'd kept me from existing. When she first asked me why I cared so much about this threat, I'd planned to ignore her question or lead her to the answer with hints but the answer slipped out before I could think.

And there she was, standing in my damn clothes looking gorgeous and those big dark brown eyes staring at me. Waiting for me to do something.

I cautioned against it, my damn brain screamed at me to walk away but something tugged at my heart and before I knew it, we were separated by a inch of space between our lips. Molded together skin to skin and chest to chest.

And now the only thing stuck in my mind like a damn broken record, on fucking repeat was the sound of her little erotic moans in my ear and knowing how wet she was for me. All for me. Goddamn it to hell.

I wasn't supposed to touch her. She was mine but in all earnest, I didn't have the right to touch her or crave her. And now I'd gone even further as to taste her and like an addict, I wanted more.

I'd gotten a little slice of fucking heaven and I would almost certainly kill for another taste of it.

The reality of it all hit me like a fucking blow to the jaw as I stared into the far distance, the sizzling fire in the fireplace growing with each stock of wood added to it, and it didn't seem to diminish any second.

The cool glass of whiskey against my palm eased the nerves and turmoil boiling inside me temporarily. I knew I wasn't going to feel truly sane until I saw her again and indulged in my daily fix of Presley Carmichael.

"That bad?" A deep familiar voice asked, the sound of footsteps approaching where I was sitting on the large armchair. "Funny how she always has this effect on you. I like seeing you like this no?"

A deep bellowed laughter filled the room. Beast. "It's been like three hours. What happened to him?"

Idiots.

After the incident with Presley, I left the penthouse for a desperate need of fresh air but not before making sure one of my men were stationed outside and instructed to send me an update every five minutes.

I didn't give a damn if it was typically unheard of and I was taking another muscle power from important work, all I cared about was her safety. If anything happened to her.. even a hair on her goddamn head, I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of it.

"Never seen you like this. She fucked with your head that badly?" Octavius asked me walking closer till he was standing in front of me, blocking my direct line of sight to the burning fire consuming everything in the pit almost representing the need I had for her.