Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

He prowled toward me, but I didn’t move and took another sip from the whisky.
It burned a trail down my throat, and heat began to bloom in my belly—not only
from the alcohol. Something about the primal disapproval in Cassio’s face
awakened my body in ways I couldn’t use right now. We had to talk about Elia,
and I wouldn’t let sex get in the way of it.
“I don’t have time for games, Giulia. Was that photo meant to provoke me?”
He stopped right in front of the armchair, tall and foreboding. He looked
breathtaking and terrifying.
“No,” I said lightly. “I only wanted to keep you updated on my evening
activities, considering how eager you are to control every aspect of my life.”
He bent over me, his muscled arms braced on the armrests. The expensive
fabric of his jacket brushed my calves, and the friction, albeit distant, sent a thrill
through me. Maybe it was the alcohol that made me so sensible to Cassio’s aura.
He oozed dominance and primal sexiness. His eyes slid over my crossed legs,
lingering on the sliver of naked skin on my upper thighs. Then he cast his gaze
up. I swallowed at the intensity of his expression, as if he wasn’t sure if he
wanted to devour me or spank me. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Elia. Don’t tell me he didn’t call you today. I bet you expect status updates
on his mission every hour.”
His strong palm had somehow found its way onto the small patch of naked
skin between the hem of my skirt and my over-the-knee socks. I felt the touch
between my legs, wanted his fingers to move higher, but I reined myself in. He
took the glass from me and downed the whisky. “I told you I don’t want you to
drink hard liquor.”
“Because I’m not old enough.”
Cassio set the glass down on the table, leaning even closer. “Giulia.” The
word was a low growl, full of warning. I didn’t care. His hand slipped higher on
my leg, under my skirt, and his lips crashed down on mine. For an instant my
body arched toward him, eager for the touch, the kiss, and what it promised. But
I wasn’t going to let Cassio distract me with angry sex no matter how
desperately my body wanted him. I pushed against his chest, ripping my mouth
away from his. “No. Stop.”
Cassio’s fingers brushed my panties, soaked from our argument. He groaned.
“What are you doing to me?”
Me? What I was doing?
I pressed harder against him. “Cassio, stop.”
His eyes focused on me and his expression smoothed, becoming guarded and
aloof. He straightened, robbing me of his warmth, his touch, his scent. “We need
to talk about Elia,” I got out.
Cassio stepped back and brushed out the crinkles in his jacket as if nothing
had happened. “There’s nothing to talk about. You let your imagination run
free.”
Anger coursed through me. I swung my legs down and pushed to my feet.
Since he was more than a head taller, that didn’t really have the effect that I