I had my answer not a heartbeat later as she went up on her tiptoes and sealed her lips to mine.
Chapter Fourteen
Alessa
What if it goes right?
Those were the words that finally snapped the self-control I'd been struggling to hold onto since the whole washing my hair thing.
Because all I'd done was think about all the reasons it was a terrible idea, all the ways it could go down in flames, and who I might hurt along the way. Especially Avi.
I never let myself consider the ways it could go right.
That wasn't my history. Nothing ever went right when men were concerned. When feelings were involved. Mostly because I never had them. Feelings. I figured I wasn't programmed that way, that my mom's choices, that the men she brought into my life at a young age, had warped my ability to connect with them on more than a superficial level, more than a purely sexual level.
The thing was, with Santi, I couldn't deny that they both coexisted, could I? The sexual attraction. And the feelings.
I'd denied it for a while, but eventually it became impossible to even try. There was no denying my respect and interest and affection for the man who was an amazing father, a good provider, a loyal friend, and a loving family member.
I had done the impossible.
I'd caught feelings.
For a man who was nothing but strings I would find myself tangled in.
A single dad.
A brother to the Capo dei Capi.
A friend of my brothers.
But it was too late now.
Yes, there were so many ways it could go wrong.
But what if it went right?
I was willing to see.
The second my lips touched his, a current of need jolted my system, sparked off every last nerve ending.
A low, rumbling noise moved through Santi as his hand grabbed the back of my neck, angling it back as he pressed his lips into mine harder, more demanding.
His body felt rigid against me, straining, struggling to hold onto control.
I'd pieced things together that he hadn't known the touch of a woman for a long time. Possibly years, if the timeline I'd worked out in my head was accurate.
A low whimper moved through me as I pressed more tightly against his body, wanting to push him to the brink, wanting to snap that control of his.
I didn't want it.
I wanted him to lose it.
I wanted him to be every bit as lost in me as I felt in him.
My hands slid across his bare shoulders, down his strong arms, finding the muscles tight, corded, as his finger crushed into the back of my neck. His other hand moved from my jaw, slipping down my shoulder, carefully skirting the still sore, though healed, wound there, sliding below it, then dipping lower, closing over my breast through the frustratingly thick material of the sweater I'd put on since my step-mother wouldn't allow me to wear my usual long-sleeve tees to a holiday dinner.
Similarly frustrated, a growl moved through Santi as his teeth nipped my lower lip, and his hand moved down my belly to slide under my sweater, moving up to squeeze my breast over the cup of my bra before slipping under, palm tightening almost to the point of pain when his skin met mine.
I arched back slightly, pushing my breast against his palm for a moment before his thumb found my nipple, gently working it into a tightened bud before rolling it between his two fingers, pinching hard enough for a gasp to escape me, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth, claiming mine.
His tongue teased mine for a long moment before retreating.
With a frustrated growl, his lips ripped from mine completely as his hands grabbed me at my sides right near my breasts, sinking in, and lifting me up and off my feet, settling me on the counter.
He reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling it up, easing it off my recovering side, then yanking it up and off all the way. Finished, his hands slid around my back, fumbling charmingly with my bra hooks for a moment before getting them free, then sliding the straps off my shoulders.
I barely got a second to feel the cool air prickling over my skin before Santi was lowering down, sealing his lips over my hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, making desire spread from the sensation and down my stomach, pooling between my spread thighs, making a moan coarse through me as his other hand moved up, closing over my other breast, teasing it with his fingers as his tongue circled, as his teeth nipped.
"Santi," I whimpered, the need a sharp, hot, relentless thing, demanding release.
On a rumbling sound, his head lifted.
His hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me back, lowering me flat against the cold countertop.
He towered over me, this gorgeous god of a man with heavy-lidded dark eyes that burned hot with desire for me as he looked down at me for a long moment before lowering again, sealing his lips over my other breast as his hand roamed, sliding up between my breasts, down my belly, up my side near my ribs.