Page 28 of Tall, Dark, and Grumpy
“Sugar between meals is bad for your teeth.”
He has a point on that. I am a sugar addict. “And the sandwiches you objected to?”
“That is not food.” Vito’s expression is affronted. “I lived in Italy for twenty years. If you want bread, it should be of excellent quality. The sort of food to give you a long, wonderful, healthy life. Not cheap packaged sandwiches.”
Have I misinterpreted everything about this situation?
“You told me off for fidgeting.”
“Because I wanted you to be taken seriously by the rest of the team, as you deserve to be, and it made you appear nervous.” His voice has gentled too, and he’s standing right in front of me now.
I sway towards him, drawn in by his magnetic pull.
“Everything I said, I said out of love. Because I adore you, and I want you to be healthy and happy until at least a hundred so the world can have the blessing of you in it. And me. I want you in my life forever, and the thought of you having a bad back is unbearable to me. What else have I growled at you about, amore mio dolce?” His mouth twitches with a tug of amusement.
“You snapped at me for working late when it wasyouwho insisted I redo all the numbers and so I had to stay late,” I add. Final damning evidence.
I didn’t mind the late night with him, but did he really have to be mean about it?
The laughter drops from his face, and he looks down at me with something like regret.
“Forgive me.” He reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek then rests there, blunt fingers on my jaw, stroking his thumb on my face. “I needed to see you. I craved being with you. I was out of my mind, and the only way I could think of for us to spend time together was to give you more work. But I also knew that you had to go home, and rest, and not be with me because you’re my employee and I’m a grizzled kingpin old enough to be your father. I was trying to care for you the way you deserve.”
Oh my heart. Is he going to continue saying things like this? I feel like my life has just been upgraded to First Class where I expected Economy.
“I don’t care about your age. In fact, I…” Am I really going to confess that his grey hair and air of authority turn me on?
“Continue,” he murmurs, sliding his other hand over my hip as he pushes his fingers into my hair to hold my head still.
“I like it,” I admit. “I like that you’re older and experienced. And you’re my boss.”
“Does it make you hot to have your older boss wrapped around your little finger?” He pulls me to him and the hardness of his erection presses into my belly, making excitement spiral through me. “I like that too, but if you’d prefer, you can be my barefoot, pregnant wife.”
“Vito…” I breathe, and reach for him, looping my wrists at the back of his neck and standing on tiptoe.
“Now tell me, Miss Meadows.” His voice drops to a hoarse whisper, and he leans down so our mouths are almost touching. “Tell me why you described me when you talked about your boyfriend.”
“Because I wanted it to be true,” I whisper, gazing into his blue eyes that are sparkling sapphires.
I only get a glimpse of his smile before he gathers me to him, his lips find mine, and he’s kissing me.
And all my fears dissolve with the strength of how he holds me, and how right he feels. His grip tightens in my hair, shooting pinpricks of pain into my scalp that far from hurting, enhance the pleasure of his mouth.
Vito’s passion matches my own. I try to climb him like the big dark cloud leading to heaven that he is. His kiss is bruising, powerful, and yet also sweet, even as he pulls me closer and closer, as though trying to meld us together.
“Mine. Cassie, I need you.” He lifts me off my feet and carries me easily backwards until my bottom hits his solid desk. “You’re mine, and I must have you. It’s already been too long.”
He pushes my cardigan off my shoulders as he kisses my neck, sending delicious shivers down my back.
“Bella. I’ve been dreaming of this, Cassie.”
I’m so drunk on him that I don’t protest as he tosses my purse aside and removes my clothes piece by piece, exploring with his hands and murmuring Italian words that sound like praise and appreciation as he presses his mouth to every revealed patch of skin. Nope, I revel in it. I arch and squirm and when he gets to my bra, I’m not even embarrassed by how large they are because he groans and cups both my breasts. And with his big hands on them, they don’t look too big, they look just right. Then I look on, entranced, as he lowers his head and sucks one nipple into his mouth. The flare of pleasure pulls a cry from me, and he responds with a purr of delight.
He runs his hands down my sides until he gets to my trousers, which he undoes with indecent haste. And I help him. I don’t point out that we’re in his office, with the sun rising over London and the enormous windows letting in creamy morning light and that other staff could arrive, knock on the door, and enter at any moment. I just give in to whatever my boss wants, and apparently that’s to undress and greedily touch every part of me.
I don’t even care when after he slides my knickers off, I’m totally naked and he’s still fully dressed, his only bare skin the triangle revealed by his undone collar and his strong forearms framed by rolled-up sleeves.
“Here.” He crowds me against the desk, grabbing my thighs and lifting me while distracting me with a deep kiss.