Fire & Vice: Burning Beauty

Chapter 7

Maria frowned and shook her head, still trying to understand what kind of game Nic was playing. "What about Franco? What about the blackmail? Do you seriously intend to let him blackmail you?"

"Who says I'm vulnerable to blackmail?"

"Well, he must have something on you for him to think this would work."

"I suspect I know exactly how he intends to use this little interlude to his benefit, but I'd like to see this game through, find out if I'm right."

She looked at him like he was in the process of growing another head. "You're insane."

"No, my dear, just determined." He hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her into the heat of his solid body. She gasped at the contact and braced her hands against his chest. "I like a well-played game of chess. I have yet to find an opponent who can outmatch me."

She didn't think he meant literal chess, but the way in which he maneuvered his mafioso kingdom. She opened her mouth to reply, but he used the opportunity to take her mouth in another kiss. Her body remembered the last devastating kiss and almost immediately her libido woke up and clambered for more of this strange man's attentions.

She thought about struggling, thought about attempting to deny him. But realistically she was f****d, both literally and figuratively, no matter how she looked at it. If she somehow got out of the room, she would be picked up by Franco Delgado who would do terrible things to her. If she stayed and allowed the Italian to have his way, which he seemed to be taking no matter her opinion, then she might be able to save her brother. She might actually survive this whole ordeal unscathed.

And maybe she would become a unicorn and learn how to fly. She was under no illusion that her actions would have any bearing on the outcome of this encounter. She wasn't stupid enough to think that Franco was going to let her and Ruiz walk.

She eyed the man in front of her. She didn't think he was going to let her walk either. She may as well lay down and enjoy the ride.

"Okay, let's do this," she said bluntly, trying to throw him a little. She should've known he was unshakable. He calmly walked away from her, picked his glass up off the table and returned it to the bar.

She remained where she was, gloriously naked and a little chilled from, yup, she called it, the air conditioner kicking in. She watched intently as Nic poured two more drinks and walked back toward her. His stride was strangely graceful and masculine at the same time as though his long, lean body had been packed into a suit, but his soul longed to be free. She didn't think he would appreciate her fanciful thought, but then, she'd always been a romantic, even if it never got her anywhere.

He handed her one of the crystal glasses, which she took automatically and sniffed. Tequila. The beverage she'd originally requested.

"Drink it," he said, tapping the bottom of the glass to encourage her to lift it to her lips. "You'll need it."

She snorted. "You think you're that good?"

He didn't rise to her bait, just stood staring at her until she finally lifted the glass and swallowed the tequila. It went down smooth with a satisfying fire racing after the slide of the liquid from mouth to throat to belly. It warmed her, and she realized he was right, she had needed it.

He took the glass from her and handed her the second one.

"You don't want any?" she asked suspiciously. Was he trying to get her drunk? Because it would take a hell of a lot more tequila than two shots to do the trick. She'd practically been raised on the stuff.

"No." His answer was simple and final. Again, he tapped the glass, urging her to drink.

She did as he wanted, deciding that, while she wasn't going to get drunk off the two drinks, she might get enough of a buzz to help her through this ordeal. When she finished, he took another step into her space. He didn't touch her, but his sharp gaze was on her and his nostrils flared as though he was scenting her perfume, a light fruity body spray.

"You need to understand one thing about me." He pinched her chin and lifted her head to look at him, his amber eyes capturing her in a way that held her rooted to the spot. "I don't care about you. Not your family drama, not whatever it is that Franco Delgado wants with you, and not your pleasure. I am only here to satisfy myself."

Her heart pounded at his bleak words and she had to fight the sudden urge to cry. Why? What was wrong with her? She never let the words of men hurt her. She'd learned long ago to protect her heart. Yet when Nic spoke, his words cut through her like the sharpest of knives. They slid in easily, almost painlessly, but once they were embedded in her flesh they drew more blood than she was capable of dealing with.

Niccolo DeLuca was out of her league. Hell, the man was a league unto himself. She wouldn't stand a chance with him. He didn't give her the opportunity to run though. He took hold of her so suddenly that she dropped the empty tequila glass. It fell to the carpet and bounced harmlessly away from her feet.

He took her lips with his at the same time he shoved her back onto the bed. She gasped into his mouth as she fell. She expected to collapse in a heap, maybe accidentally bite his lip and force him to snap her scrawny neck.

Instead of falling though, she floated down onto the bed, wrapped tight in Nic's arms, his strength and scent surrounding her. Not once did he break their kiss as they landed on the bed together, enveloped by the silky softness of the bedspread. She had only a few precious seconds to marvel at his grace before he was once more overwhelming her with his overt brand of masculinity. His hands held tight to her, holding her still for his assault on her senses.

God, could Niccolo DeLuca kiss! He didn't just use his lips and tongue, but his whole body. He swamped her senses and took her on a voyage into the pleasure of something that once seemed so simple, but under Nic's guidance became a tutelage in his brand of brutal sensuality. She didn't think her heart could take it. She couldn't catch her breath as he f****d her into submission using only his lips.

His hands were hard on her skin but not hurtful. He swept her with intent, awakening her flesh and frightening her at the same time. With every kiss, every touch, she became more and more convinced that her life was about to alter irrevocably. That this man would be her destiny and probably her doom.

It was a strange thought because Maria was a practical woman, not given to fanciful thinking. Yet the way Niccolo DeLuca owned every part of her with just a few words, a look, a kiss, told her that something significant was happening between them. Which is why she needed to stop him from hurtling her into something she wasn't ready for.

She tore her mouth from his and twisted her head to the side, panting and gripping the bedspread as she tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. He wasn't giving an inch though, his lips trailed her jaw, tasting her, tantalizing and teasing. An ache started in her throat and moved lower into her stomach and then even lower, sweeping her breath away and making her moan at the sensations he was drawing from her.

"Please," she finally managed to gasp. Her voice was so quiet, so thready, so lost in the moment that he either didn't hear or didn't take it as a signal to stop. She needed to make him understand that she wasn't going to be a willing participant. She needed to make him understand that they shouldn't be doing this.

"Nic, please!" She managed to make her voice louder and sharper.

He lifted his head to look down at her. A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead giving him a ruffled look. It also made him look more sinister, with his seductive dark gaze that promised a lethal mix of death and pleasure. She became aware that his immaculate suit was still in place. Not even his tie was crooked, while she was completely vulnerable laying naked beneath him.

"Please, I don't want to do this," she whispered, trying to tell him with her eyes everything she was thinking and feeling. Trying to tell him that, while he lit up her body with a new kind of heat, she was terrified of taking this step with him.

"Bellissima," he spoke the endearment huskily, brushing the hair from her face and running his fingers down her cheek. She shook beneath him, feeling that simple touch right down to her bones. "There is no mercy in me."