11. Hannah

Instead of driving me home, I notice Vin turns the car toward his place. I'm about to object, but something inside of me doesn't want to. The truth is I want to be with him. Running into Caleb like that, out in the wild, put me on edge. Even more so, I missed Vin and I just want to be near him again.

God, am I turning into a pathetic, needy woman after one night with the man? Technically, I slept beside him the last two nights. Of course, not much sleeping occurred in his bed, but lying in his arms, breathing in his citrusy scent and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek did something to me. It made me want more. So much more.

But after the way he closed off this morning, I began having massive doubts. While I'm sitting here hoping to spend more time with him, Vin closed off and rushed me straight back to my apartment. After the intense night we had, his actions left me confused and hurt. The moment I needed him, though, he came running straight to me. That has to mean something, right?

I'm not sure where we stand or what he wants, but I'll never forget how Vin is always there for me when I need someone the most. After losing my mom, I've had no one else in my life to rely on. Maybe now I do? The idea makes my heart swell with hope and something more. Something I'm too scared to even consider since I've only known him since Friday night.

By the time we arrive at Vin's apartment, I've settled down and I'm more relaxed. He parks in the underground garage and we take the elevator up to his floor. I'm not sure what to say and he has a grim, steely look on his face, so neither of us says anything. Once we're safely inside, he locks the door and turns to me.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

Shifting uneasily, trying to read his mood, I nod. I suppose it's the least I can do after he came to my rescue for a second time. "Well, it's like I told you. I had just left the cemetery?—"

"Cemetery?"

"Um, yeah," I say, twisting my hands and feeling my cheeks flush. "Sometimes I walk down to visit my mom. I like to sit there and talk to her. It probably sounds silly to you."

"No, not at all." His voice drops. "Losing her was really hard on you, wasn't it?"

"She was my best friend," I whisper, doing my best to force back the tears and failing miserably. Dammit. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to regain control of my emotions, but it's so damn hard. Losing her is still so raw and sometimes I can't help bursting into tears.

Vin immediately pulls me close, wrapping an arm around my lower back while the other holds my cheek to his chest. I melt into him and let the tears flow. A few minutes later, I sniffle against his nice white shirt, pull back and realize I got it all wet. An embarrassing combination of tears and snot.

"I'm sorry." I immediately try to brush it dry, but that doesn't work. I'm probably just making it worse.

"It's fine," he murmurs, his big hand still stroking up and down my back. "It's just a shirt."

When I can't seem to stop wiping at the spot, he grabs my hand, forcing it to stop, and lifts it to his mouth. Then he presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. Our gazes lock and my stomach fills with butterflies.

"Will you stay for dinner?" he asks huskily.

I can't look away from his amazing green eyes and I nod.

"Good." Vin releases my hand, leans in and kisses me. It's soft, tender and over before I'd like. "Want to help me make some lasagna? Maybe toss a salad?"

"Yes," I whisper, a little wobbly after the touch of his lips on mine.

We walk into the large, modern kitchen and he nods to a chair at the marble-topped island. "Have a seat and I'll pour us some wine. I think we could both use a glass while you finish telling me what happened with Caleb Durant."

I couldn't agree more. My nerves are still frazzled by the incident. But watching Vin move around the kitchen, pour us wine and start pulling out pots, pans and ingredients sets my mind and heart at ease. He has this calm energy that speaks to me and reassures me on a soul-deep level.

I tell Vin how I had stepped out of the cemetery gates and then Caleb pulled up out of nowhere in his flashy BMW. "He said things didn't turn out like he'd planned."

"I'm sure," Vin says dryly. I can't help but notice how tightly he's holding his wine glass and I watch him take a long, aggravated sip. "Then what happened?"

"He said he wanted to get to know me better, introduced himself and it's almost like he waited for my reaction. Like I should recognize his name or something."

"I checked with brother Enzo who knows everyone worth knowing and he said Caleb Durant thinks he's a bigshot in the finance world," Vin explained, a sour look on his face. "He's not."

"I told him I had to go and started walking. He still thought my name was Mary."

"Did you correct him?"

"No."

"Good girl."

"He asked if he could give me a ride and I said no. I think that made him mad because then he got snippy. I didn't want to encourage him, though. He ended up peeling away. I'm sure that's most likely the end of it and I probably made the whole thing into a much bigger deal than it really is."

"He harassed you," Vin said, voice steely. "It is a big deal and I won't let it happen again."

"Thank you, Vin," I say softly. Knowing he is looking out for me means everything. I slide off the stool and walk around, looking over all the ingredients. "I'll make the salad."

"Sounds good. I have a fresh loaf of French bread, too, if you'd like me to whip up some garlic bread."

"Wow, you seem pretty good in the kitchen." And in the bedroom, I think wickedly, pressing my lips together as I reach for the greens.

"My mom made sure all her kids knew how to at least cook lasagna. Some of us are better than others, but I'm pretty decent. I can make some mean manicotti, too."

I chuckle. "Tell me about your family. Is it big?"

"I have an older brother named Miceli. Then there's me, Enzo, Angelo and our baby sister Carlotta—who you met the other day. I told her to send the dress with a courier, but she's so damn nosy. I should've known she'd show up herself to deliver it."

"I'm glad I got to meet her, even just briefly. She seems sweet."

"She can be a handful," he informs me with a grin as he chops a fresh tomato. "But we love her. Then my parents live in Sicily on the vineyard."

"I bet it's beautiful. Do you get back there often?"

"The entire family goes every Christmas. Sicily is amazing during the holidays."

"Do you speak Italian?" I ask, cocking my head. He has no trace of an accent and it never occurred to me until now.

"We all do. Fluently."

"Really?" For whatever reason that amazes me. And impresses the hell out of me. Most people in America only speak one language—English. "Say something."

His lips edge up in a smirk and then a slew of beautiful, low-spoken Italian words spill from his mouth. My jaw drops and my panties are instantly soaked. It's the sexiest damn thing I've ever heard.

"What did you just say?" I ask, a little breathless and completely turned on.

"Come closer and I'll tell you."

Heart in my throat, I set the parmesan cheese down and move closer. Vin brushes my hair back off my shoulder, leans down and whispers in my ear, "I said you're absolutely stunning. A bright, golden light that washes away the darkness. So good, so pure. I want your light to consume me, my Angel."

Oh, God. I let out a shaky breath and then lose my mind a little. Desire infuses me and I turn my head. Popping up onto my toes, I slam my mouth against his hard and fast. I don't think he expects the move and he groans into my mouth as I kiss him passionately. After a little bit, Vin slides his hands through my hair, cupping the back of my neck and takes control, deepening the kiss. Commanding. Controlling. Making me want him on a primitive level I never knew existed.

Walking me backwards, devouring me, his tongue explores and caresses every square inch of my mouth. My rear end bumps into the table. Before I realize what's happening, Vin pushes forward, maneuvering himself between my legs, and forces me to lay back on the tabletop. He's on top of me, kissing me desperately, and reaches for my leggings. In one fell swoop, my leggings and panties get tossed. Then his hand is between my legs, caressing, spreading my juices over my folds and up around my clit.

With a cry, my head drops back against the table and my hips push against his hand. He slides two fingers into my soaked channel while his thumb massages my clit until I'm squeezing my thighs together and biting my lip to keep from screaming.

"Spread your legs, Angel," he rasps, thrusting his fingers in and out. Forcing my thighs apart. He's working me into a frenzy and I feel my control slip away. The orgasm hits me hard and waves of pleasure spread through my body. Before I can even begin to recover, Vin flips me over and I'm lying face down. My heart thunders as he leans over and whispers, "I'm going to take you like this, Angioletto. Sink deep into your sweet, wet pussy. Can I do that? Fuck you deep?"

"Yes…please," I beg, pushing my ass back against him. I hear his zipper go down and the crinkle of a condom packet. I have no idea where he got it from so quickly and I don't care. I just want to feel his big cock inside me.

I get my wish almost immediately. Vin grabs my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, hikes my ass up and sinks into me from behind. We both moan and the sensation of him stretching and filling me is almost too much to bear. It stings at first but then my body adjusts to the new position, welcoming him deeper as he begins to thrust. Sinking in and out of me.

"So fucking good," he rasps, grunting with each thrust. "Fuck, you're tight. You squeeze me so good…so goddamn wet…"

I turn my cheek, laying it against the cool surface of the table and try to hold on as Vin begins to move faster…harder. He's pounding into me and his hand finds its way beneath my body, zeroing in on my clit. Pressing, massaging, rolling the aching nub until I can't take it anymore. A scream tears from my throat and I buck hard as my release rocks through my body. Like a bolt of lightning it zaps and sears straight through me, setting everything on fire. The entire table lurches forward with the force of Vin's thrusts. Then he groans, stiffens above me and I feel a long shudder rack through the length of his frame as he orgasms. He hisses something in Italian then drops down on top of me. He's careful not to crush me and when he presses his lips against my shoulder, I let out a shaky sigh.

When he finally peels himself off me, I can't move. I'm breathing hard, unable to lift my head up. I can't believe that I just had sex with Vin on the kitchen table. Backwards. Oh, my God. He makes me lose every rational thought in my head when we're together. I like him so damn much. Hell, it's time to be honest with myself. It's so much more than like. I want so badly to call this man my significant other. I want to go to bed with him, have fantastic, mind-blowing sex all night long, then I want to wake up in his arms every morning. It's like he's cast some sort of magical spell over me.

Or, maybe my pussy.

No, it's more than that. I want to meet his family and go to Sicily with him on Christmas. I want him to teach me Italian and give me babies.

Holy shit.The first man I sleep with, I'm falling in love with. I'm not sure what to do with that. But, I need to be careful. One minute he's all in and the next, he cools off. Rolling over on the table, I look up and he's staring down at me, a strange look in his vibrant green eyes. Vin extends his hand and I take it with zero hesitation.

"I didn't…hurt you, did I?" He caresses a hand down my bare hip and I shiver.

"No."

Vin nods, moving his hand around and circling his fingertips on my lower back. "I didn't mean to be so intense. It's like I lost all control."

"I liked it," I admit shyly.

Heat flares in his expression, lighting his emerald eyes afire, and a muscle flexes in his cheek. "Are you coming to work for me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper, knowing it's the wisest decision.

A huge smile lights up his handsome face.

"But…"

"No buts," he murmurs and kisses me softly.

I enjoy the feel of our mouths moving together longer than I should. Placing a hand against his chest, I push him back and he frowns. "But," I repeat firmly, "if I'm going to be your employee, we can't be sleeping together."

There. I said it. Now the ball is in his court and all I want to hear is him say screw it then and that he wants me to be his girlfriend rather than his assistant.

Instead, a hooded look comes over his bright green eyes. He doesn't seem very thrilled with my answer, but he doesn't offer me an alternative, either. My heart sinks slightly, but I put on a strong outward appearance.

"We need to set some ground rules," I tell him, deciding to be tough with him. The alternative is me winding up with a broken heart and I don't want that. I need to protect myself. Seeing him every day in a professional environment means we need to act like professionals. Otherwise, things could get sticky fast. I also don't want the other employees to judge and think the only reason I'm there is because I'm fucking the boss. That doesn't sit well with me at all.

"What rules?" he growls, not looking happy.

I wave a hand between us. "This has to stop. As much as I enjoy being with you…" I clear my throat, flushing, "I'm a professional. I don't want people thinking you only hired me because you consider me a piece of ass."

"I don't think that," he hisses vehemently. "I'm hiring you because I believe it's a good decision and you're going to be a hard-working and competent employee."

"Good. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to work for you." Again, he narrows his eyes, glaring. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

"Fine," he grits out. "Let's finish dinner."

And just like that I've lost him. Something in the air changes and I have no idea how we went from a scorching fuck on the kitchen table to this…to nothing. At this point, I don't even know if we're friends. My heart hurts as I reach for the salad bowl and begin to toss the greens.

A part of me still holds out, hoping he will tell me to forget the job and be his girlfriend. But he doesn't. And that devastates me more than I care to admit.

You barely just met the guy,I try to tell myself. Get over it.

But that's so much easier said than done.

From this point forward, I know our relationship will be strictly professional and platonic—and no matter how difficult it will be for me, I know it's the right thing to do.