He shook his head, some of the dark anger dissipating. “Bambina, you’re such an innocent. He wasn’t dancing with you. He was trying to get into your lacy little thong panties. His hand was on your ass.”

“I moved his hand back to my waist immediately.”

“Which is why the fucker is still alive. The only man who touches your ass or your panties is going to be me. Ever.” His hand slid down her hip to her bare thigh, fingers caressing her skin. “This dress doesn’t look the same on you as it did on that mannequin.”

His fingers began making little circles up her thigh. Barely there. Burning. Branding her. It felt as if he touched her with fire. She shuddered, leaning her weight into the wall, hoping it would keep her upright.

“I suppose the mannequin was board straight, and you’ve got all these sexy curves.” His other hand found her right breast, drifting over the soft curve until his fingertips were directly over her nipple. “I should have taken that into consideration.”

The fingers inched up her thigh, right under the hem of her dress, moving upward with soft, deliberate strokes. She put her hand on his wrist to stop him, her gaze moving around the club. It was dark and Stefano had taken her well back into the shadows for their little talk, but still, in another minute she knew she’d be too far gone to care what he did to her. She wanted his hands on her. His mouth on her. She had to have his touch more than she needed to breathe.

With her breath burning in her lungs and need driving her, she ran one palm up his chest to his shoulder. It was a tight fit because he refused to move back, his much larger body directly in front of her. Should anyone come up on them, they wouldn’t be able to see her the way he’d positioned himself. She realized that even when he was angry with her, he’d made certain to protect her.

“So you don’t like the dress?” Her voice came out sultry. A whisper of pure sin.

A soft groan escaped. “Dolce cuore, you can’t use that tone when we’re out in public.” His fingers dug into her inner thigh for a brief moment and then relaxed, gently caressing her skin over the sting. “I’ve never wanted a woman more in my entire life. There are half a dozen offices close by I could take you into and fuck you until neither one of us could move, but that’s not what I want for your first time with me. I want to at least try to be gentle with you. Right now I’m not certain I could be. Help me out a little, okay, bella?”

His fingers, sliding over her bare inner thigh, drove her crazy. She needed him right now, and the offices sounded good to her. His knuckles brushed her sex and deep inside, muscles contracted deliciously. She gasped and he immediately bent his head, his teeth finding her earlobe and biting down.

“Stefano.” His name came out as a moan.

“You’re already wet for me,” he whispered. “So ready. For me, bambina, that’s mine. All for me.”

She nodded helplessly, clutching at his wide shoulders to keep from falling at his feet. Her mind felt chaotic, her brain refusing to work. She couldn’t think of anything else but Stefano. She wanted his hands on her. His mouth. She needed that. “Please,” she pleaded softly, asking for something, but what she didn’t know.

His expression changed immediately. Gentled. Softened. Even his eyes changed color, darkening intently. His voice stroked caresses over her skin, making her shiver. “Kiss me. Right now. I need your mouth.”

She would have given him anything he asked for. She lifted her face up toward his, an offering, both hands at his shoulders, holding on for life. Stefano’s mouth instantly took command of hers. Took all control like a runaway train. The moment his tongue swept inside, he spread flames through her. Exquisite, perfect fire. Heat rushed through her veins straight to her sex, fanning the fireball that had lodged there.

His arms went around her, dragging her away from the wall and into his body so that she had no doubt she was imprinted on his bones—and he on hers.

“I want you,” he confessed, dragging his mouth from hers, resting his forehead against hers while they both tried to pull air into laboring lungs.

Her lashes swept down and faint color stole into her cheeks. “I want you, too,” she whispered. “So much, Stefano.”

“Say you’re mine.” There was steel in his voice.

She took a breath. Let it out. He was commanding more than that simple sentence. They both knew it. He was asking for commitment. Not just a night. A week. A month. He was asking her to say she belonged to him forever.

She heard the blood roaring in her ears. Her body was in flames. In terrible need. Wanting him. Could she give herself to him? She knew two things about him. He was a man with a strict code of honor, and he was a very dangerous man capable of swift violence.