Chapter 5 MICELI

She asks me to dance.

I like her confidence. Lala's snark hasn't fazed my beautiful Aphrodite.

The anonymity of the pseudonyms fits my mood tonight too. Across the country from the territory I help my brother rule and the home I will never leave, the only option between us is a one-and-done.

Although that one is going to last all night if I can trust my instincts.

I take her hand in mine and lead her to the crowded dance floor. The press of bodies only means we have to stay close together.

Spinning her around, I slide my hand over her stomach and pull her generous ass against me. She jolts into stillness, like I surprised her?

Did I misread the situation? I take an immediate step back, but she follows me, her smaller hand pressing over my own. Her other hand reaches up to latch onto the back of my neck.

I lean down. "This okay?"

I'm a forceful lover, but until the terms are set, I don't take anything for granted.

Wiggling her ass, she nods.

This is one of my favorite positions with a woman. Her body in front of me, every juicy curve accessible to my touch. I'll like it even better when Aphrodite is naked.

And we will be naked together.

The chemistry between us could power nighttime in Times Square .

Aphrodite's fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck while her body shimmies enticingly to the music. Her hand on mine guides our entwined fingers in a circle over her belly.

Cazzo . That's sexy.

My cock rises to meet the little temptress. Even in her heels, she's several inches shorter than me so her backside presses against my upper thighs.

I'm tucked to the left and my semi-hard cock grows with my arousal so she can't help but feel the bulge as she grinds against me.

She pauses again, her body going unnaturally still. But then she presses even harder against me, massaging my erection with her bouncy curves.

We dance like that, close together, our bodies teasing each other, regardless of the beat of the song. When it's fast, we increase our speed. When it's slow, she seduces me with every leisurely glide of her ass.

I let my hand slide lower until my fingertips are just above the apex of her thighs.

She turns suddenly, not trying to get away, but pushing closer. One of her hands is against my chest, her fingers kneading like a cat's claws and the other grips my hair hard enough to sting.

An atavistic growl rumbles my chest.

Her eyes go hazy with passion.

I lean down and demand close to her ear, "Come back to my hotel room with me."

"Yes."

I turn us both and head toward the exit, weaving my way through the crowd while keeping my body between hers and everyone else.

One of my men falls into subtle position behind us, keeping his distance. Although we used mercenaries in Colombia, I took my personal crew with me. I don't travel anywhere without them.

The five men have tonight off, but they followed me to the club and of course one of them plays bodyguard when I leave. Ordered to, or not.

Silvio, one of the deadliest men alive, follows us across the parking lot on silent feet.

When we reach my rental, a sleek black Mercedes SL-Class, Aphrodite pulls up short and steps away from me. "Wait, um…"

I don't crowd her. If she wants to come with me, she will. And she wants to. The proof is in the pheromone saturated air around us.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, my libido riding me as hard as the steel pipe in my pants.

"Tell me where you're staying, and I'll meet you there. "

Good girl. I like that she's watching out for herself. She should ask for my driver's license, but that would negate our anonymity. Not that I'd show her the Miceli De Luca identification.

I didn't travel to Colombia under my own name and I'm not giving it out to this stranger. Even one as sexy as Aphrodite.

"I'm at the Ritz-Carlton. Meet me in the lobby."

She nods, her platinum blonde hair looking white under the parking lot lights.

"Order your ride share and I'll wait with you until it gets here." Silvio will follow the rideshare to the hotel.

I wouldn't let women under my protection take one at all. Tonight, this woman is mine and I'll make sure she's protected.

"You don't need to," she says softly, unconsciously biting her bottom lip. "I can wait for my driver in front of the club, near the bouncer."

"No."

Her eyes narrow. "Wanting to have sex with you does not make you the boss of me."

"In the bedroom it does."

She sucks in an audible breath. "You want to get kinky?"

"It's not kink. It's me. I'm a controlling bastard in the bedroom, but I promise you the pleasure I give you will make up for it."

"What does that mean?" She blinks up at me, her perfectly made-up features reflecting unexpected innocence.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tie you up." Not on our first time together and since there won't be a follow up fuck, not at all. "But I won't stop to ask if every kiss is okay with you or if I can fuck you now."

"But—"

I put my finger against her lips. "You can always say no . Or stop . Any time. And I will listen. But I will take your silence as consent."

"You won't hurt me?"

"Fuck no. I might fuck you until you are too sore to walk tomorrow, but I don't hurt women."

"I believe you."

"You probably shouldn't." I give her my most charming grin. "But I'm glad you do."

She definitely should not trust a man she just met, but I won't hurt her. I know she's safe. She doesn't, but she believes she is.

If she belonged to me, I would spank her ass for following a strange man to his hotel .

Manaja . What the hell? I've never spanked a woman and don't intend to start, no matter how much her luscious ass tempts me.

If she asked, on the other hand…

Hell, if she belonged to me, I'd kill the man and tie her to our bed until she repented even thinking about letting anyone but me touch her.

Where in the three hells is this possessiveness coming from? And the need to protect her?

Both have no place in a one-and-done sex encounter.

It's that damn marriage of convenience hanging over my head. It's short-circuiting my brain.

While I've been thinking ridiculous thoughts, she's been ordering her rideshare.

She looks up from the phone she pulled from the tiny evening bag she's wearing on a gold crossbody chain. "Done. He'll be here in six minutes."

"Just enough time."

"For what?" she asks with more innocence than a woman who dances and looks like she does should be able to project.

"This." Cupping her face, I tilt her head up.

Her lips part on a small gasp and I swallow the sound with my mouth.