Every inch of my body burned as I walked toward him. Sensitive as freshly waxed skin, his pants felt abrasive against my inner thigh as I forced my leg between his slightly parted ones. He didn’t look at me, nor did he widen his stance so I could step fully between his legs. My breaths and the drumming of my heart fluttered in the air before silence liquefied them.

I brushed a hand across his neck and into the thick hair at his nape. He let out a quiet, tense breath. A heady warmth poured off his shirtless chest, and I absorbed it like an addict. My fingers laced through the soft strands, gripping a handful like I’d done days ago.

Feather-light, his hands skimmed up the backs of my thighs, and my pulse sparked like crackles in a fire. My breasts were bare beneath my shirt, heavy and tight so close to his face. He only had to lift his head to put his mouth on them, to relieve them of this pressure.

His fingers grew firmer on my thighs, gripping the flesh, caressing it. Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his palms burned through my skin. Every squeeze sent a thrum between my legs, settling into an empty ache. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though what he was doing deserved his full concentration.

The haze in the air began to thicken, to flare, to burn with every inhale.

My stomach tightened as his hands inched beneath my cotton shorts, teasing the curve of my cheeks with a touch I was beginning to believe was singular. His palms slid under the hem and gripped two handfuls of my ass. A throaty sigh escaped as he kneaded the flesh. Tingles, hot and slick, pooled between my legs, and my fingers curled in his hair.

He found my thong and traced the cotton downward. My body hummed in anticipation, but right before he reached where I needed him, he tugged the fabric to the side and let it snap back in place. The movement brushed my clit and sent a sizzling sensation up my spine that knocked me off balance. When my other hand found his nape to catch myself, my short nails trailed down the back of his neck.

He shook his head to throw my touch off like he hated it, and a low growl sounded from deep in his chest. My hand dropped away. I didn’t have time to weigh his reaction because his fingers slipped beneath my thong, sliding so low they brushed my back entrance before pausing. The touch was foreign to me, but I was so hot I found myself rolling my hips for friction.

A groan poured out of me when his hand slid further downward and one finger pushed inside of me without warning. His rough “Fuck” ran down my spine. He fucked me slowly, in and out, and the pressure built between my legs like too much steam collected in a glass jar.

My head fell back and my palm came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it. When he tensed, I suddenly realized what I did and dropped my hand. However, it was already done. I received a smack on the underside of my ass that sent a toe-curling rattle throughout my entire sex. I didn’t think it was a good punishment at all, but then he pulled his finger out of me and a desperate ache remained.

A haze had infiltrated my skin, my mind, my inhibitions, and the corners of my vision. I needed one thing, could think about only it, and it wasn’t physically possible to leave without getting it.

His legs parted, and I didn’t hesitate to step all the way between them. His gaze lifted and his eyes met mine; the blaze inside them was liquid lead and darker than shadow. Our lips were inches apart. Close enough we shared breaths. Close enough to kiss.

I realized how weak I truly was at that moment, because if this man told me to kiss him, I would. I would do anything he wanted. But he never did. He only watched me with a narrowed gaze while breathing my air like it was his to take.

“Take it off,” he gritted.

He didn’t speak of my clothes. He looked at my face, but he might as well have stared at my left hand. Now I understood it wasn’t the nails on his neck that had bothered him—it was the ring.

I swallowed and tried to think through the mist he’d created in my mind. I’d told myself I wouldn’t take the ring off until I did what I could to make amends. I hated to admit it, but I wanted this moment more than a guilt-ridden reminder. Though, the truth was, it wasn’t simply about what I wanted anymore.

I needed him. More than morality or honesty.

I knew I shouldn’t sleep with Nico, not with my deceit so close on the air I could taste it.

But, as I took the ring off and let it fall from my fingers to the floor, this was the moment I knew I wouldn’t be so bad a Russo after all.

Heat and satisfaction rolled off his body. Without another thought, I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt with both hands and pulled it off in one swoop.

He groaned, and before I could even lower my arms, his mouth latched onto my breast, giving it one slow suck while dragging his teeth across the nipple. White heat shot like lightning between my thighs before pulsing in an empty ache. I swayed into him, running one hand around his neck and into his hair.

His hand shoved down the front of my shorts, brushing over sensitive skin and cupping me with a roughness that brought me to my toes. His entire palm rubbed back and forth, a firm pressure against my clit. My head fell back with a moan.

“So fucking wet,” he growled. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and then slid two fingers deep inside me. Hot, sweet pressure filled me, threatening to overfill as he fingered me. Fast and then lazy. Over and over.

Maybe I should have been embarrassed that I was so wet the room filled with the sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of me. But my skin was hot enough it felt like I’d been doused with kerosene and then lit by a match. The fire burned into my lower stomach, creating a blaze that needed to be fed. And if not . . . I would go up in smoke.

“Oh, God . . .” I moaned, digging my nails into his shoulders. I was so close, so so close. “God, please.”

He trailed over every inch of my breasts, kissing them like he would my mouth: with lips and tongue and teeth. His fingers slipped out of me, pulling wetness to my clit, and when he pushed them back in, that was it.

Pressure burst into tingles and flame. My veins burned up like a line of gunpowder, shooting flames of light behind my eyes. A shudder fluttered through my body as though three shots of liquor poured straight into my bloodstream, before a languid heat spread.

As I came down, I realized my legs had given out and I sat on his thigh. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet when his lips and a deep rasp touched my ear. “Jesus, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Satisfaction still shimmering with an orange glow dripped into my chest like a leaky tap. “Thank you,” I breathed, my cheeks flushed enough to singe if touched. His hand slid from my shorts and I shivered at the loss of contact.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, the color black intoxicated. His thumb grazed my lips and his words were coarse like he hadn’t spoken in a while. “You’re welcome.”

He left a streak of wetness across my mouth, and I knew it was of me. I drew my tongue across my bottom lip and licked it off.

His gaze flashed. “Get on the bed.” It was a demand, his lazy mood hardening into a harsh one that made my heart thump against my ribcage.

I pulled away from him and crawled onto the bed. It felt like I lay on a cloud of Nico as I got settled on my back. It was too soft to be him, but it smelled like him: warm whiskey, sandalwood, and an unnamable scent I associated with sweet temptation and danger.

While holding my stare, he slipped his sweatpants off, and my cheeks grew warmer even though he still wore boxer briefs as black as his full sleeve. I swallowed as I glanced at his erection that strained through the fabric. Anticipation thrummed to life between my legs. He was so hard, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.