Luciano held her there—straddling his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips—as if the entire room were narrowing down to just her, just this moment, just the slow, inevitable pull between them. His hands settled on her waist, fingers splayed wide, grounding her while a coil of intense, deliberate hunger tightened low in his core.
Eloise swallowed hard. She could feel the tension radiating from him like a furnace, could feel the sharp line of his breath brushing her cheek. His heartbeat thudded beneath her palm—quick, powerful, nothing like the controlled cadence he usually carried.
And she knew, with a strange tremor of both fear and want, that she was the reason for it. She was the one who had disrupted his magnificent control.
"Luciano…" Her voice sounded different now—breathier, unsure, but drawn toward him like a moth to flame, confessing her state of arousal.
"Shh," he murmured, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "Don't say anything unless you want to."
