Page 53 of Pietro

The single word ignites something primal in me. I lean closer, my breath mingling with hers. "If you don't, Mark won't make it home tonight."

"You wouldn't." But there's a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes now.

"Try me." I tighten my grip slightly, just enough to make my point. "You think I got where I am by making empty threats? Mark breathes because I allow it."

Her jaw clenches, that stubborn defiance I've come to expect from her. "You don't own me, Pietro."

"No?" I press my body against hers, pinning her to the counter. "Then why does seeing you with him make me want to paint this bathroom with his blood?"

She freezes, but she doesn't look away. "That's your problem, not mine."

"It became your problem the moment you walked into my office." I release her throat, my hand sliding to cup her jaw instead. "I don't share what's mine."

"I'm not yours," she whispers.

"Aren't you?" I brush my thumb across her freshly applied lipstick, smearing it slightly. "Tell Mark you're leaving. Or I'll tell him myself, right before I show him exactly what happens to men who touch what belongs to me." I say letting her throat.

NORA

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss, shoving against his chest. He barely moves.

Murder flashes across his face. "I don't want you with him."

"That's not good enough." I push against him again, harder this time. "You don't get to decide who I spend time with."

"Nora—"

"No." I cut him off. "I have needs, Pietro. If I want to fuck someone, I'm not going to ask your permission."

His hands grip the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

"Is that what this is?" His voice drops to a lethal whisper. "You're going to fuck Mark tonight?"

The truth is I had no intention of sleeping with Mark. He's nice, normal—everything I should want—but there's no spark. No fire.

Not like with the man currently pinning me against the bathroom sink.

But the possessive rage in Pietro's eyes pushes me to lie.

"Yes," I say, lifting my chin defiantly. "I am."

Pietro goes completely still. His eyes bore into mine, searching for the lie. Then his hand slides into my hair, gripping tight enough to sting but not hurt.

"No, you're not." His voice is pure darkness, sending shivers down my spine. "The only man who's going to be inside you is me. The only name you'll scream is mine."

"You don't get to decide that."

"I already have." His lips brush against my ear, his body pressing harder against mine. "You think I don't know how your body responds when I'm close?" His free hand slides down my side, gripping my hip. "You're not going to fuck Mark because he can't give you what you need. He can't make you feel what I can."

"You're delusional," I manage to say, but my voice betrays me, coming out breathless.

"Am I?" His lips ghost over my neck. "Tell me you don't think about that kiss. Tell me you don't lie awake imagining my hands on you, my mouth on you." His grip tightens in my hair. "Tell me, and I'll let you go back to your date."

I open my mouth, but the lie won't come.

"That's what I thought." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "You're mine, Nora Kelly. Whether you admit it or not."

His thumb presses against my bottom lip, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're going to leave this restaurant right now. Alone."