“I kept you safe.” Beneath the screen of her dress, his finger pushed the damp cotton of her panties aside while he kept his body close, shielding her from view. “I’ll always keep you safe. And you’re gonna hate how much you like it. Now, turn around or I’m gonna slide my finger in your hot, wet cunt and work you hard right here on the dance floor.”
Since ‘no’ didn’t seem to be an option, she turned as stared into the crowd seething in front of them. Nico yanked her against him, her back to his front, and his hands on her waist, spanning her stomach. He didn’t miss a beat as he rocked them from side to side, rolling his hips against her with the kind of sinfully sexy moves she had only ever seen on the big screen.
“Good girl.” He leaned down, feathered kisses along the sensitive curve of her neck. Mia lost herself in sensation—the pounding of the bass vibrating through her body, the sweet slide of alcohol through her veins, the energy of the crowd dancing to the party that was Vegas, and the heat that was Nico pressed up against her.
“I’m not a girl.”
“No, you’re not. You’re all woman. My woman.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and tugged her head to the side, baring her neck for the erotic nip of his teeth. A tremor ripped through her body. Fuck Papà. Fuck her family. No one could stop her from taking what she wanted, and she wanted this man. The enemy. Dark, dangerous and utterly delicious.
She turned in his arms, and her breasts pressed up against his chest, her nipples taut and throbbing. Nico grabbed her ass and pulled her against him. His scorching gaze slammed through her, melting her from the inside out. He licked his lips, leaned down until she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips, until he was so close she only had to reach up for a little taste.
“We’re leaving,” he murmured, pulling away seconds before their lips met.
“Good. Let’s go.” She nuzzled his neck, breathed in the fresh scent of his cologne. “I think you comped me a room. Let’s use that.”
“No.” Gritting his teeth, he gently detached her hands from where they had sunk into his very tight ass. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
She gave him a puzzled frown. “I don’t need to be wined and dined. I’m quite happy to go upstairs, tear off our clothes, and continue what we’ve started.”
“You deserve more.” He threaded his hand through hers and led her through the crowd. “But make no mistake, bella. I am going to pleasure the fuck out of you tonight.”
THIRTEEN
“So nice to see you, Mr. Toscani. I’ve got the best table in the house ready for you and your guest.” Lennie swept the door open and Mia preceded Nico into Il Tavolino.
Always on the alert, Nico checked out the other diners as Lennie led them to their table. Was that guy in the bowling shirt hiding a weapon under his table? Was that suit heading for the restroom going to pull a piece out from beneath his jacket? Were the two guys in track suits talking by the bar connected, or just stopping for a bite to eat after hitting the gym?
Lennie seated them in front of the stage, and Big Joe sat at a table a discrete distance away. He was Nico’s second pair of eyes, and Nico trusted him to have arranged for guards to be at every entrance to the building.
“What are we gonna eat today, Lennie?” He waved the offered menu away.
Lennie made a few suggestions that Nico ignored.
“You know what? I’ll tell you what we’re gonna have. Make me some prosciutt’, a little antipasti, some arancini, a little caponata, polenta with gorgonzola, some chicken masala, then when we’re done with that bring us a little red mullet in onion sauce. How’s that?”
“Very good, sir.”
Mia coughed discretely and he caught her frown. He’d ordered lots of food. Wasn’t it enough?
Lennie’s gaze flicked to Mia and back to Nico. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, like he’d been squeezed between a rock and a hard place. “Anything else, Mr. Toscani?”
What the fuck? “You unclear about something I said?”
Mia gave an irritated grunt, and curled her hand around her water glass, clutching it so hard her knuckles turned white. Something niggled at the back of Nico’s mind, but before he could work it out, Lennie backed away with an obsequious bow.
“Mi dispiace. I’ll get that order to your table right away.”
“Never had a problem with Lennie before.” He reached for Mia’s hand, and she moved it away.
The niggle in his mind became a prickle of warning. Fuck. Of course. Not everyone liked mullet.
“You don’t like the food? I’ll tell Lennie to make something else.”
“I like it,” she said, her tone clipped. “But I would have preferred to have been asked.”
Asked? He always ordered the food. He was the man. It was his job. And women ate what the men ate because men knew what was good. She needed to understand that when it came to matters of protection and providing, he was in charge.
“I’m the ma—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t go there. Just. Don’t.”
He felt the slightest twinge of regret that he hadn’t asked her opinion, especially since she’d been very careful not to disrespect him in front of Lennie. Given her views on empowering women, her restraint was a gift of immeasurable value.