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A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face, turning his beauty into something feral.

“I don’t believe in fate—but you walked into that café like you were delivered to me. Serving coffee like you hadn’t just started a war in my head.”

He leans in, voice low, thick with something darker.

“Do you even know what you do to me, Chiara? The things you put in my head… they’re not the kind a man can walk away from.”

He calls me Chiara again.

I should tell him—I’m not her. I’m Aria.

But the second I do, he’ll stop.

Stop telling me the things I make him feel.

Stop looking at me like I’ve wrecked his world.

And right now? I need that.

I need something that feels this good.

Chiara’s taken enough. She’s not taking this, too.

He unbuttons my jeans, slides the zipper down so agonizingly slow that my legs begin to tremble.

“I think about your mouth,” he murmurs, tugging the denim down my hips. “Your taste.”

The fabric hits the floor along with the rest of my sanity.

His mouth follows, trailing heat as he kisses his way down my body, each touch branding fire into my skin.

Then he grips my thighs and spreads them—wide.

So fucking wide I let out a whimper.

He slides the panties down and tosses them aside. His eyes devour me, and his hand moves between my thighs as he slides his fingers through my clit. His fingers, cold to the touch, cut me with pleasure, and I writhe beneath his touch.

“You’re soaked,” he says, his voice rough. “Absolutely soaked for me.”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Touch me. Now.”

Let him wreck me. I want it all.

I don’t care if it’s a mistake. I don’t care if it breaks me.

Right now, I want the man whose stare shuts mouths and weakens knees to lose control all over me.

Do I want him? No—I crave him.

He’s fire and danger wrapped in control, and I want to burn.

He lowers his head, and the second his tongue makes contact with my clit, I fucking scream.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s filthy, wet, and possessive—his mouth on me like he’s starved for it. He licks me in long, greedy strokes, his tongue broad and heavy as it drags over the swollen bundle of nerves. My hips roll up uncontrollably, moaning like a goddamn porn star, but I don’t care. There’s no shame here—just raw, naked need.

Then his fingers slide into me—one, then two—and he fucks me with them, curling up hard to hit that impossible, perfect spot that makes my back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—right there,” I choke out, fists yanking at the sheets as his mouth sucks hard on my clit, obscene, wet sounds echoing in the room.