“My name is Sierra,” I said.
He repeated it slowly, tasting it like whiskey on his tongue. “That’s an innocent name, Sierra.”
I downed my shot and smirked. “I’m definitely not innocent.”
His eyes stayed on me. Sharp. Studying. “Why do you say you’re not an angel?” he asked, wearing that dangerous half-smirk.
“Angels are sweet and innocent,” I said.
“And you’re not sweet and innocent?” he pressed.
I shrugged. “I can be sweet… but innocent? No. That died a long time ago.”
Before he could ask more, I cut in. “What’s your name?”
He stood, leaned in, and grabbed my jaw gently but firmly—control without permission. “If I tell you,” he murmured, “will you let me have you tonight, angel?”
I stared right back, unblinking. “Maybe. Maybe not. Tell me your name first.”
He chuckled, low. “Giovanni.”
Of course his name is Giovanni. Dangerous men always have beautiful names.
“Well, Gio,” I said, “your place, my place, or are we pretending we gotta be in a relationship first?”
His smirk deepened before he kissed me—slow at first, then claiming. When he pulled back, his voice dropped. “Your place, angel.”
“Then let’s go,” He said.
“Before I take you right here,” he added,his voice low and husky, the heat in his voice turn me the fuck on.
I laughed, because he wasn’t joking—and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be.
I already knew I was going home with him the minute he said my name.
He took my hand and pulled me outside. Men like him don’t ask—they lead. He opened the car door for me like a gentleman, even though we both knew he wasn’t one. Not tonight at least.
He got in, started the engine, and glanced at me. “Address?”
I gave it, and less than ten minutes later, we pulled up to my building.
In the elevator, it didn’t take long before restraint died. We were on each other—his mouth owning mine, my breathing uneven. I hated how good he already felt.
The elevator dinged. A couple walked in. We pulled apart but his hand stayed on my waist, gripping like he didn’t want to let go. That told me more than anything he’d said.
When we hit my floor, we stepped out fast and kissed again on the way to my door. I fumbled through my bag, lips still on his, laughing against his mouth because suddenly my keys hated me.
Finally I swung the door open and the second it clicked shut, Gio kicked it closed and pulled me back in—his mouth on mine again like he was starving.
God. His lips. They tasted like sin and secrets.
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