Page 111 of Twisted Temptation

"Do not," he says, setting his espresso down, "buy a diamond-encrusted Bentley."

"What about a regular Bentley?"

"No."

"A diamond-encrusted Fiat?"

"No."

"You said limitless. That implies no limits. I feel like there's a false advertising issue here."

His jaw flexes the way it does when I drive him to distraction. But his eyes are warm, and the corner of his mouth is fighting a losing battle against a smile.

I rise on my toes and kiss him. A brief kiss with my lips against his for just a second.

"Killjoy," I murmur against his mouth before stepping away.

His hand catches my waist and he pulls me in. His mouth finds mine again, and this time there is nothing quick about it. This kiss is slow, deep, and thorough. His tongue slides against mine, and he tastes like espresso and heat. I grab the lapels of his suit jacket because my knees just stopped working, and I need something solid to hold onto.

His other hand slides under my T-shirt, his palm flat and warm against my bare skin, and my body melts into his like we didn't spend half the night tangled together.

He tips my head back with his hand on my jaw and kisses me like he has nowhere to be.

A wild ache pounds between my legs, making my fingers tighten in his hair and my hips press forward against his.

He groans, and it’s the deep groan of a man who knows he has to stop and hates it.

God, I like that sound.

He pulls back, his breathing uneven.

"I have things I can’t reschedule this morning," he says, his voice raspy. "John Marco is meeting me at eight."

"Go,” I say against his lips. “Be a casino magnate. Do casino magnate things. But don’t be late for dinner. I’m ordering pad thai and if you stand me up, I'm eating all the pad thai and I will not feel bad about it."

"I would never expect you to feel bad about pad thai."

He kisses my forehead and pauses there. I wonder if he's thinking about the nightmare I had last night and how I brushed it off.

He knows there's something to it. Dante Di Zaro is not a fool.

But he doesn't push, and I'm grateful because I'm just not ready to talk about it.

I know I will someday soon.

Just not today.

“What are you up to today?” he asks, pulling on his suit jacket.

I hold up the card. “Buying a Bentley.”

He gives me a look that warns me that under no circumstances am I buying a Bentley.

“Okay, grumpy, that was a joke. But I am going to buy a few things.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”