Page 14 of Beauty and the Daddy

"Luca." His name breaks from my lips as I push my underwear aside, fingers sliding through wetness.

I find that spot, that rhythm, hips rocking against my hand.

In my fantasy, he has me pinned to this bed, that powerful body covering mine, those gray eyes watching me fall apart beneath him.

"Please," I whimper to my empty room, chasing release like it could cure this insanity.

The pressure builds violent and fast. My back arches, his name on my lips again...

The door opens.

I freeze mid-gasp, fingers still buried inside myself, dress rucked up around my waist.

Luca stands in my doorway. Hair still damp from a shower. Gray sweatpants riding low on his hips.

His eyes take in everything—my position, my hand between my thighs, the flush on my chest.

For one eternal second, we stare at each other.

Predator and prey, except I'm not sure which is which anymore.

Then his eyes go dark as winter storms.

LUCA

Icome to apologize for earlier.

That's the lie I tell myself walking down the hall. That I'm being considerate. Checking on her. Making sure she's settled in.

Then I hear my name.

Not called. Not spoken.

Moaned.

Through her door, breathy and desperate: "Luca."

My hand freezes on the doorknob. Every muscle in my body locks, blood rushing south so fast I actually get lightheaded.

I should walk away. Should give her privacy.

Instead, I open the door.

And find Belle Donovan spread across silk sheets, dress bunched at her waist, hand buried between her thighs, coming apart to the sound of my name.

Sweet fucking Christ.

I step into her doorway just as she falls apart under her own hand to the gasp of my name.

She lies on her bed with her hand between her thighs, her dress indecently high.

When she turns to stare right at me in shock, it's like I've caught a little thief in the act.

Time does that thing it does before violence, stretches like taffy, every detail carved in crystal.

Her eyes, wide with horror and something else. Something darker.