Page 57 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

He lifted me onto the counter and parted my legs.

“I hate you,” I whispered, even as I pulled him closer.

“Good,” he growled against my lips. “But you’re not leaving me. Ever.”

And then, there was no more talking—only the heat, the anger, and the undeniable pull that kept us both locked in this dangerous, dark dance.

I hated him. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

It was the only way I could justify my body’s betrayal whenever Vincenzo was near and the quickening of my pulse when his voice dropped into that dark, commanding tone.

Except, hate wasn’t what made my breath hitch when he pushed my dress up over my hips.

Hate wasn’t what made me lean into his touch, what made me tremble under the weight of his gaze.

I hated him because he made me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel—things I didn’t want to feel. And yet, as his hard length pressed against me, his groan rumbling through both of us like thunder, I realized I hated myself even more for how desperately I wanted him.

His hands slid under my dress, warm and rough, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When he finally shoved my panties down, baring me to him completely, I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

The cold air of the bathroom was nothing compared to the heat between us, to the burn of his eyes as they roamed over every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his voice low and reverent, like he was speaking a truth he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

I should’ve said something sharp in return, something to deflect the intensity of his words.

I couldn’t because his hands traced every curve and hollow of my body, stealing the very breath from my lungs.

We were a mess of groans and touching and limbs with no proclivity toward modesty.

His thumbs brushed over my nipples through the lace of my bra, teasing until they peaked under his touch.

My head fell back against the cool marble wall as heat pooled low in my belly, a slow, aching pulse that matched the steady press of his fingers against my skin.

“Vincenzo...” I wanted to push him away, to remind him—and myself—that this was just physical. But his name left my lips like a plea, and the smirk that tugged at his mouth told me he knew exactly how much I was fighting myself.

“Say it again,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against my neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “Say my name, dolcezza .”

I clenched my fists, trying to summon the anger I’d felt earlier, but it dissolved the moment his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down my collarbone, my chest. He tugged at the straps of my bra, letting them slide down my arms before unhooking the clasp with a practiced ease that made me want to curse him.

My breasts spilled free, and he wasted no time in flicking his tongue over one hard nipple while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck,” I gasped, my back arching involuntarily. The smooth coolness of the marble contrasted with the heat of his mouth and the roughness of his stubble against my skin. Every touch was a battle between pleasure and frustration, every kiss a reminder that I was losing control.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath.

His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my hips and my thighs.

When his fingers finally brushed against the wet heat between my legs, I bit back a cry, but the sound escaped anyway.

His touch was deliberate, almost punishing in its slowness, as if he wanted to savor every reaction he pulled from me.

“You hate this, don’t you?” he said, his voice a dark whisper against my ear. “Hate how much you want me. How much you need me.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, though the words lacked bite. I gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he slipped two fingers inside me, stretching me in a way that made my toes curl.

His laugh was low and dangerous. “Oh, dolcezza , you will. But not yet.”

His hands spread my thighs wider, exposing me completely, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the intensity in his eyes.

“Watch,” he commanded, his voice rough as he pushed my knees apart even farther.

I glanced at the mirror on the side, my reflection flushed and wild, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Vincenzo knelt between my legs and lowered his head. He teased my clit with feather-light flicks of his tongue that made me gasp, and my hips jerked forward in search of more.

“Stay still,” he growled, gripping my thighs to hold me in place. “You come when I say you can. Not a second before.”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, to shove him away and regain some semblance of control.

His mouth was relentless, his tongue circling and stroking with a precision that had me trembling within seconds.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white as I fought to hold back the orgasm building inside me.

“Vincenzo, please,” I whispered, hating the desperation in my voice.

He looked up at me, his lips glistening, and smirked. “Not yet, dolcezza . I’m not done with you yet.”

His fingers slid inside me with devastating precision, his thumb teasing my clit in a way that left me gasping, trembling, on the edge but unable to fall.

The pressure built with a torturous slowness, my body betraying me as it arched toward him, chasing relief I knew he wouldn’t grant yet.

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, a mix of frustration and overwhelming sensation. I hated how completely he unraveled me.

“You can fight it all you want, but your body already knows the truth. You’re mine.”

I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

When his mouth returned to my clit, sucking and flicking with a feral hunger, the cry that tore from my throat betrayed me.

My hips bucked against his face, and the sheer intensity of it all left me trembling on the precipice of release.

And then he stopped.

A shocked gasp escaped me as the sudden absence of his mouth and fingers left me hanging in agonizing need.

I reached out, trying to pull him back, but he rose to his feet, his towering presence pinning me in place.

His eyes, dark with lust and command, locked onto mine, and I shivered under his gaze as he unzipped his pants.

“No. Not like that.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he gripped my thighs with bruising strength and lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist, and he spun around, pressing my back against the wall. His hard cock pressed against my slick folds, teasing, but not giving me what I needed.

“Look,” he growled, tilting my chin toward the mirror. “Watch what I do to you.”

My breath hitched as I obeyed. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wild, hair sticking to my damp skin.

He held me there, suspended between him and the wall, every inch of my body on display.

The sight of his cock rubbing against my wetness made my core tighten with desperate need, and I hated how much I wanted this—how much I wanted him.

“Vincenzo,” I breathed, a curse and a plea.

His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and without warning, he thrust into me. The stretch was immediate, overwhelming, a delicious burn that stole the air from my lungs. My head fell back against the wall, a guttural moan escaping me as he filled me completely.

“Keep watching,” he commanded, his voice rough and ragged. “I want you to see what it looks like when you’re mine.”

I forced my gaze back to the mirror. His hands gripped my thighs with bruising force, his hips snapping against me with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect. The sight of it was intoxicating. I clung to him, my body moving instinctively with his, meeting each thrust with desperate need.

“Fuck,” he growled, his head dipping to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck. His teeth scraped against my skin, and the sharp sting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. “You’re so goddamn tight, dolcezza . Like you were made for me.”

I clenched around his cock, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through both of us.

His hands shifted, one sliding up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my ass as he drove into me harder, deeper.

The slap of skin against skin echoed in the bathroom, mingling with my ragged breaths and his guttural moans.

I couldn’t look away from the mirror. The sight of his body moving against mine, his cock disappearing into me with every thrust, the sheer hunger etched across his face…

It was too much and not enough all at once.

The pressure inside me built to an unbearable peak, every nerve-ending on fire, every muscle taut with the need to let go.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, slowing but thrusting deeper, harder. “Not until I say.”

“Vincenzo,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Please.”

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Not yet, dolcezza . You’ll wait. You’ll take every fucking second of it.”

I whimpered and trembled in his arms as he held me on the edge, refusing to let me fall.

His thrusts slowed even more, each one deliberate, almost cruel in their precision, dragging me higher but keeping me just out of reach.

Tears burned my eyes, this time from the sheer, unbearable need coiling tighter and tighter inside me.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “So beautiful when you’re desperate. So perfect.”

He slid a hand between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with the right amount of pressure to make me cry out. My hips bucked against him, seeking more, but he controlled every movement, holding me exactly where he wanted.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his thumb pressing harder, his hips snapping forward with renewed force. “Say it.”

“I hate you.” The words were a shaky whisper, lacking any conviction.

He smirked, his thrusts growing faster and harder as his thumb worked me closer to the edge. “Say it,” he demanded again, his voice a dark, commanding growl.

“I’m yours,” I finally gasped, the confession tearing out of me like a surrender. “Vincenzo, I’m yours.”

The words broke something inside me, and he shattered the hold he’d kept on my release.

His thumb pressed down, his cock driving into me with one final, devastating thrust, and the orgasm ripped through me like a tornado.

My body convulsed in his arms, every nerve alight, every muscle trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me.

He followed moments later, a guttural moan spilling from his lips as he buried himself deep inside me, his release hot and consuming. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us, our bodies entwined, our breaths mingling as we came down together.

As the haze of pleasure began to clear, I met his gaze in the mirror, and the intensity there stole what little breath I had left in my lungs.

I hated him for what he did to me, for how easily he tore me apart and put me back together.

But as he held me there, his hands still firm on my thighs, his lips brushing against my temple in a surprisingly gentle gesture, I hated myself even more for how much I didn’t hate him at all.