Let Me Love You (5)

My nipples hardened as a response to his dirty talk, and a little pulse of energy had me tightening my thighs together. This was new for me. I didn’t get all hot and bothered by a man unless he was written by a woman and inside a book.

His eyes fell to my skirt like he knew what was happening beneath it. The man freaking snarled at me, as if realizing I was aroused, and why’d it feel like he wanted to take me over his knee and punish me for it?

Well hell, that can be number eight.

A litany of curses left his mouth, a mix of English and Italian, while he tossed the napkin into the trash bin by the desk.

“You’re too young,” he murmured under his breath. “Too fragile.” He abruptly turned, clawing at his black hair, mussing it up.

“What are you talking about? Too young and fragile for what? Hudson?”

“For me,” he seethed, swiveling back around, breathing hard.

My mouth hung open. The words were trapped behind my shock. And the longer he stared at me with such a dark, heated look, the harder it became for me to think clearly.

He shoved back his suit jacket to draw his hands to his hips, continuing to stare me down. “What do you want, Maria?” He finally broke the silence, which had felt like the only real fragile thing in the room.

What I wanted was for him to remove his jacket and roll his sleeves up to expose the ink on his arms. Unbutton his shirt so I could see the tattoo on his chest.

I wanted to study him. Pretend I had artistic talent so I could sketch this man before me. Capture the emotion on his face. Immortalize in a drawing the way his muscles were no doubt bunched and tense beneath his clothes.

“Maria?” he repeated. “So help me, I don’t know what’s in your head, but you’re walking a tightrope right now by being alone with me.”

I swallowed and tore my eyes back to his face. “Why?” I rolled my tongue along the seam of my mouth, and he tipped his head to the side and dragged his thumb along the line of his lips as if he were touching me instead.

“Because I don’t fuck virgins, and certainly not one I vowed to their father to protect.” His hands snapped into fists at his sides, and I stumbled back, hitting the wall. He lifted his hands as if realizing what he’d done, and it was the first time I saw the muscles in his face go lax. “I would never hurt you.” His Adam’s apple moved as he carried his attention back to my eyes. “I’m trying to refrain from giving you what you seem to want.”

Oh jeez, could he read me that well? I was supposed to be the reader, not be the one read. “What is it that I want?” For some reason, I needed to hear those words more than I needed anything right now.

His hands relaxed at his sides as he stalked toward me, eating up the space between us. He dipped his head to find my gaze as his palms went to the wall over my shoulders.

When he didn’t answer, I offered up the truth. “I—I want, um, a birthday kiss.” Damn the stammer betraying the confidence I wanted to pretend to have in this moment. “Or maybe for you to take my v-card so I can be done with it already.” There. I said it. The real “it” in my head.

“You’re sure as hell not kissing or screwing anyone out in that bar.” His words rippled through the air and slid under my clothes, hitting me right between the legs. Being told what to do shouldn’t have turned me on, and yet . . .

“Does your order extend outside the bar? To all the boroughs of New York?” I shot back, unsure where that spitfire came from.

The side of his lip hitched, a devilish smirk appearing. “You really want me to break my rules, don’t you?”

“Would you do it if it meant stopping someone else from touching me?” I challenged, allowing my backbone to remain as stiff and tough as possible. But he wasn’t the villain he was trying to portray. I remembered him from our trips to the Hamptons. The sweet boy who’d throw paper airplanes across the room with funny jokes on them to make me laugh. Then that boy went to the army and became a man.

“If you think for one second I’m letting any guy near you tonight, you’re gravely mistaken,” he growled.

“Any man?” I rasped, unsure how long I could remain imprisoned by his hard body with his mouth so close to mine and not draw myself even closer. Not fist his shirt and arch into him. “That include you?”

His eyes fell to my lips, and his brows stitched together. “For a virgin, you like to play with fire. Why is that?” His voice was deep, thick with intent. But the intent to do what?

“I’m not a kid anymore, remember?”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that fact.” He leaned in, his mouth nearly brushing my lips, and it took all my restraint not to kiss him. But like hell would I make the first move. “But I’m bad for you. You have no idea just how bad.”

My body had never responded to anyone like this before, and every nerve ending inside me was charged and ready to go. “I don’t believe you. The man you’re pretending to be right now is fake. The real you made dinner last night. You’re soft beneath this exterior.” I poked his chest. “I don’t know why you—” I cut myself off when he pinned his body to mine, letting me feel his rock-hard length, and my eyes widened.

“There’s nothing soft about me.” One hand left the wall, and he swept my long brown hair away from my face and palmed my cheek.