Page 68 of Because I Need You
“I know exactly how lawyers are,” he mumbled, looking at his wrapped fists. “He was touching you,” he said. “He was fucking touching you.”
“He was touching my hand,” I said.
“Still counts as touching.” He shut his eyes and backed into the furthest wall from me, breathing hard. It seemed to me like he was really, really, trying not to lose his shit. Why that turned me on was a mystery to me, but it did.
“It does,” I said quietly. His eyes opened and he pinned me with a look that I could only describe as feral. My heart skipped ten beats as I held his gaze, fully expecting him to pounce at any minute, to break the damn promise I’d make him make me. He didn’t, though. He just stared. The elevator stopped again, opened. This time, there were two men in suits there, about to walk in.
“Take the next one,” Giovanni said, no room for argument in his voice. Their eyes widened as they backed away, letting the doors close.
“Why would you do this?” I asked, pointing at the panel. It still had about ten more numbers lit up.
“It gives us time.”
“For what? To talk about a man that I’m never going to see again in my life touching my hand?” I asked. “Is this your way of telling me you’re jealous? Of staking a claim on me or something? Is that what’s happening?”
He took a step forward, then another. I didn’t know why I’d chosen today to wear flats. Maybe because I knew I was already wearing a short dress and I didn’t want to risk tripping over my feet. Regardless, I had to really crane my neck to keep eye contact. He stopped as close as he could get without touching me. My heart pounding frantically.
“I don’t have to stake my claim on you,” he said, his voice low, gruff. “You’re my fucking wife.”
I knew he was going to say that, and I still gaped at him. The words and the way he said them sent a shock between my legs. My nipples pinning against the thin bra I wore. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember why the no touching rule was even a rule and why I’d thought he’d be the one to cave first. I felt my breath coming in a little faster as he looked at me, his dark eyes bouncing between mine, a contained fire in them that I felt blaze through my entire body.
“I would bet my life,” he said, inching forward, still not touching me. “That if I put my hand up your dress and dip it into whatever sexy as hell underwear I know you’re wearing under it, you’d wet as fuck.” He didn’t touch me, though. I swallowed, pressing my thighs together. “I can tell you want me. I know you do. Say the word, babe. Say it and I’ll make you come on my fingers before we reach the next floor.”
My mouth popped open. God, I wanted that, but I shook my head, it wasn’t a firm shake, but it was a shake.
He groaned, throwing his head back slightly. “God damn it, Isabel. Let me fucking touch you.”
“I can’t give you everything,” I whispered. His eyes snapped back to mine. “You either get my body or you get my secrets. Which one do you want? You can’t have both.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because if I give you both, you’ll leave me with nothing.” I tried to swallow back tears, but I was still freaking out about the stuff in my hand, the briefcase biting into my fingers as I gripped it, a reminder. A tear fell, then another. He breathed even heavier, his chest expanding fully with it, nearly brushing against my breasts. “Don’t you understand that? I’ll have nothing. I already have nothing. I can’t risk losing myself, too.”
The elevator opened on the garage floor. Finally. Giovanni took one huge step back, eyes narrowed on mine. Tony was waiting for us right outside. He walked out first and looked around, then made way for me to walk out. It reminded me of the movie The Bodyguard, except I was no Whitney and Giovanni Masseria was certainly not my knight. The way he walked out and looked to make sure I was safe, though, I liked that. He was quiet as we walked to the SUV that Petra and Joey were standing by.
Petra raised both eyebrows but didn’t say anything as she opened the door for me. I set the briefcase and envelope down, curling and uncurling my hand to fight the cramp it’d gotten from gripping it so tightly. I turned to face him, to say something or wait for him to say something, I didn’t even know what I was expecting. Maybe for him to answer and tell me what he wanted from me. Maybe for him to say fuck it, and just take it without asking. I wasn’t expecting just silence or the way he was looking at me with that blank expression, as if he was done with the conversation all together.
