❝Book 1 in the 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 series
He spreads my folds wide, his hungry mouth latching onto my clit, sucking hard and licking expertly. My hips move on their own, riding his face as soft whimpers escape me.
Just when I think I can't take any more, he...
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P A R I S
As soon as I step inside, Luciano's gaze flicks up—sharp, assessing, and unmistakably lingering—but he doesn't break stride in his call. I place the file and the tote bag on the edge of his desk, then ease into the chair across from him. He doesn't look away from me—not once. His eyes stay locked on mine with an intensity that makes something low in my stomach tighten.
"Sì, il nuovo contratto deve essere rivisto entro domani... non possiamo permetterci ritardi con la spedizione del vino." He says evenly, but his fingers pause over his keyboard as though my arrival disrupted a rhythm he didn't notice he'd fallen into. (Yes, the new contract must be reviewed by tomorrow... we can't afford delays with the wine shipment)
I straighten my posture, crossing my legs. His gaze dips for half a second, but when he looks back at my face, it's with the same unreadable composure he always hides behind. It irritates me. It fascinates me.
I return his stare with one of my own. His brows tick up almost imperceptibly—like he wasn't expecting me to hold his gaze so boldly.
"Assicurati che il fornitore accetti i nuovi termini." He continues. (Make sure the supplier accepts the new terms)
The phone call clearly demands his mind, but his eyes... they're entirely on me.
Fine. Two can play the distraction game.
After a few seconds, I rise from the chair and circle behind him. He stiffens the moment he loses sight of me. There's something satisfying about how a simple shift in distance can throw off a man who's usually carved from stone.
"Sì, tutto deve essere pronto entro la prossima settimana." (Yes, everything needs to be ready by next week)
From behind him, the view is intoxicating—broad shoulders, crisp shirt, hair slightly tousled from his fingers. I reach forward and smooth a small wrinkle at the back of his collar.
He doesn't react at first.
Then he inhales and his hand tightens around the phone just enough for me to notice. Just because his hair is still slightly mussed from earlier, I gently slip my fingers through it.
He reacts instantly this time.
He exhales, long and quiet, shoulders sinking as if I've unlocked a tension he didn't know he was holding. His eyelids flutter—not fully, just enough for me to see he's fighting the instinct to melt into my hand.
So I keep going.
My nails graze lightly against his scalp as I comb through the thick strands again, and this time he tilts his head back—subtle, controlled, but unmistakably seeking the touch he shouldn't want.
A tiny smile tugs at my lips.
He's not as unaffected as he pretends.
"Dobbiamo assicurarci che i numeri siano esatti." Luciano says, voice slightly rougher now. (We need to make sure the numbers are accurate)
