Page 49 of Indulging Temptation (Tempting the Heart #1)

LORENA

C losing the bathroom door behind me, I look ahead, not expecting to see Santino standing in front of the staircase leading down to the main restaurant.

A mischievous expression stares back at me as he leans with one arm bent and propped up on the wall, with the other stashed away in his pocket. He looks so sexy. Eager. Confident .

My vision tunnels as my feet lead the way to him. Nerves surface making me feel as if I’m floating and not walking.

A ravenous grin spreads across his face as he shifts his stance, with his back now leaning on the wall. It’s as he does this slight maneuver I’m made aware that the hand not in his pocket is occupied with a glass.

The trance his presence put me in unexpectedly, as if this was the first time I’m seeing him, falters. I look down at the floor I’m walking on, registering that it’s not wood or marble or made of any opaque surface. It’s glass…completely see-through.

Flutters ignite in my stomach, knowing that we’re up here alone above the restaurant’s main dining room, where everyone is enjoying their food and drinks and each other's company, oblivious to our presence hovering above them.

I stop an inch or so in front of him, and the quickening of my heartbeat has grown harsher, vibrating against my chest, making my hearing feel dull as an undeniable heat spreads throughout my core.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Staring at you.”

As if my body didn’t already feel on fire, his matter-of-fact way of answering draws a heated flush to my cheeks.

“Didn’t you stare at me enough at dinner?” I ask rhetorically with a playful wink. “You know, the same dinner that we should be heading back down to.” I remind him with a lifted brow and my finger pointing downstairs.

The ice cubes in his glass clack as he swirls it in his palm. “Dinner’s over.”

“But we didn’t have dessert.” I stomp my heel in joking protest before I cross my arms in front of me, giving him a pout.

Tongue clicking with sheer amusement he corrects me with hunger in his eyes. “Two things. First, to answer your question, no, I didn’t.”

My pulse thrums in my ears, ricocheting throughout the entirety of my body.

I can’t describe it, but there is a shift in the air.

Tino’s demeanor, the entire vibe, everything, feels different.

And it’s throwing me off, making my senses come to life while also making my head feel fuzzy. “What do you mean?”

“You asked if I stared at you enough already. The answer is no. Actually, if I’m being honest, the limit doesn’t exist. I’ll never tire of indulging my eyes on you. And second, I believe what you meant to say is that we haven’t had dessert yet .”

The emphasis in his voice on the word yet , lets me know he’s up to no good.

“Santino,” I say his name with a drawn-out singsong.

“Don’t Santino me. You started this.”

My hand flies to my chest in pretend shock. “How’s that?”

“For starters, you do realize that there’s a perfectly functioning bathroom downstairs.”

“I know,” I breathe, feeling restless. Tino leans and takes a step closer to me, rendering me motionless. There’s barely any space between us, it’s minimal at best, yet it feels giant, drenched in anticipation.

“Why did you come up here then?” he asks as he takes his time circling around me. “And don’t tell me it’s because you prefer the quiet of upstairs by using the catering and event bathrooms.”

He knows me too well, since that’s exactly what I was going to say.

It’s not a lie. As much as I can adapt to any social setting I’m thrust into, the truth is I crave quiet.

There’s only so long that I can maintain a social mask before it starts slipping.

That was a factor in me choosing the bathroom in the event space, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that was hoping this exact scenario playing out in real time would happen.

“Hmm?” He takes a sip of water, and as he does, his Adam’s apple bobs down the column of his thick throat, making the simple act of draining the glass that much more erotic.

“I’m waiting, mi cielo.” He dips his finger into the glass, only adding to the oddly sensual act, moving it around, playing with the perfectly square ice cubes until he stops, settling on one to take out.

Flustered, aroused, feeling a multitude of emotions, I play along, knowing where this is headed, but thriving on the edging we seem to default to.

“I think the real question is how did you know I came up here?” My arms are crossed, but I feel every defense I insist on putting up lessen when he stops circling me, lowering his lips to my ear to answer.

“Same way I know that you didn’t wear any panties, I couldn’t help but look. Lucky for me, there so happens to be an all-glass floor or ceiling, depending how you look at it.”

“Why were you looking?” Heat rushes to my cheeks as the words leave my mouth.

“Because I can’t help myself. When you’re not around I’m always looking forward to when I can see you again. Now tell me, did you decide not to wear panties to tease me on purpose, or to make it easier for me to get another taste?”

I know I need to make a move and put an end to this song and dance between us.

I need him.

No.

I want him.

Now.

I take the glass from him, and I bend to place it on the floor. I don’t get to stand back up before the simple gesture of taking his glass away becomes the invitation he needs to swoop me up into his arms.

Slung across his shoulder, I notice there’s a velvet rope with a closed sign centered on the landing splitting the staircase that leads up here in half, as he walks me to the other side of the large open space upstairs.

“We can’t,” I breathe out, not sure if it’s for him or for me.

A sly chuckle sounds from him. “I think we’re past the can’t and shouldn’t stage, don’t you think?”

Yes.

Way past it.

Past the point of no return.

“Mhm,” I hum, though it sounds like a whimper laced with need. An accurate depiction of how I’m feeling right now.

We stop, and he carefully shifts me from his shoulder, keeping one hand at the back of my head, while he lowers me to the floor. “You know what I thought of the entire time I was filming today?”

I shake my head slowly side to side.

Hovering over me on the glass floor, he brings a hand to my knee, pushing it forward towards me, bending it, scrunching the fabric of my dress up for easier access as he does.

A cool, wet sensation makes contact with my skin, reminding me that he took the ice cube out from the glass he brought upstairs with him.

“How badly I need to be inside of you.” He brings the ice cube to my lips, wetting them.

“Now?” I breathe; the excitement of this moment causing my entire body to buzz.

“Yes. Now.”

“But…” I go to protest, but he centers the ice cube between my lips, silencing me.

“You’re so fucking adorable, you know that?

Here you are worried if someone can walk in on us, when at any moment they can just look up and see all the vile…

” The ice cube in his hand brushes against my lips, wetting them.

“Delicious.” Another swipe of the cold cube at my lips, and it begins to drip, practically beckoning his mouth to clean up the mess.

With teeth bared, he gently nibbles, then tugs at my lip, kneading it with enough pressure that blood could be drawn, but enough that it feels so good I wouldn’t dream of telling him to stop.

He lets go of my lips to speak again, now trailing the ice slowly down my throat, maintaining pace until it is down my cleavage, drawing a wet line for him to lap up.

“Unholy things I am going to do to you.” His pierced tongue follows the wet path he’s made with the ice cube. “Does that sound good?” A shiver runs down my spine as his breath, a warm contrast to the cool liquid he’s spreading onto my skin.

I whimper in response as I close my eyes. The need I have for him is overwhelming me. I’ve never had anyone be such a tease yet so attentive all at once.

His rough, calloused palm squeezes my cheeks together, commanding my attention. My mouth hollows from his touch and the ice cube he was spreading on my lips now becomes sucked into my mouth, freeing his hand to travel from my mouth to between my legs, finding solace in the apex of my thighs.

Eager fingers slip past my slit, burrowing themselves into my wet, ready warmth. With two fingers inside me, he angles his hand so his thumb is centered with my clit. A perfect combination of steady penetration and friction that’s driving me as wild as the noises he’s making.

Slowly, I grind my hips in a circle, working with his motion. The two of us moving in perfect harmony. My lids open, needing to see him hover above me, driving me crazy as I near what I’m sure will be the first of numerous orgasms, knowing him.

“You’re so fucking wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, biting his lip, fighting back a whimper.

“Yes,” I squeal as my back arches.

There’s no denying how wet I am. It’s audible.

“Fuck. I can hear it,” he whispers.

“Feel it,” I encourage him, voice laced in wanton need.

He eyes the floor just as his fingers work my pulsing clit. “You mean more than I am right now?”

Yes, please.

“With all these eyes on us?” The thrill in his voice is undeniable. It’s contagious.

“I don’t care.”

He quickens the pace his fingers are fucking me, as I ride his hand to orgasm, squeezing around his fingers.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, keeping his hand in place, soaking up every remnant of my release.

“You look so pretty when you come for me.”

“I bet I’d look even prettier if you’d come…in me.”

He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, you can’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not?” I pout my lip.

“Because I’ll do it.”

“You mean you’ll do what I’ve been craving since you teased my mouth earlier with those piercings?”

“Is that all you care about? My piercings?”

“Yep. That’s it,” I say it as a challenge, an invitation to do whatever he wants to me…and it works.