"Is this yours?" I asked as we took a step inside. The rug beneath us dampened the sound of my heels, and the only noise I could hear outside of the very faint shuffle of the streets below was that of my heart racing.
"It is," Vitale admitted, shutting the door carefully behind us. "I have one in most cities I manage clubs in. This one is my second favorite."
"Second to?" I wondered. I didn't know how they could get better than this.
"Prague," he told me, and led me over to the window. "It has the best view."
"Better than this?" My eyes roamed over the buildings, the lights, the people, the Eiffel Tower, just taking in each minute detail. We were, from my calculations, to the left of the rooftop, but slightly higher. The view was equally magnificent, though the quiet the space offered had a lulling effect.
"Maybe not now," Vitale said from next to me, and I glanced up to see him watching me. I felt heat rise from my chest to my face, and bit my lips together. Now that we were completely alone, I had absolutely no choice but to face him, and the inexplicable draw I had to him.
"Vitale," I began, though I had no idea what I planned on saying. His name came out like a plea, and I watched as his eyes fell to my lips.
"I don't bring girls here," he told me before I had to think of more words. "You're the first."
"You expect me to believe that?" I asked with an airy smirk of my own. Vitale matched it as he moved a step closer. My back was to the window now, but the cold press of the glass was the last thing on my mind.
"No," he said honestly, "but it's the truth."
"So why now?" My question was more breathless now, and I watched Vitale's eyes dilate as they roamed my face. When he leaned forward to kiss me, I met him halfway.
His lips caught mine in a trap I never wanted to escape, and took them in a slow, sensuous dance. It wasn't fast paced like the dancefloor, with grinding of hips and sweat and loud music. At least, not at first. When he kissed me, he did it savoringly, as if wanting to know the shape of my mouth, the softness of my lips, and I did the same. When he added his tongue, teasing gently at my top lip, I couldn't help the hum of pleasure that vibrated through my chest.
I subconsciously leaned into him, wanting him close, needing his warmth, and his hands went to my waist. My own went to the back of his neck, my fingers brushing the silky strands of hair that grew too long, and I pressed closer to him. The cold of the window at my back warred with his heat, and a delightful shiver shot up my spine. My body was on full alert, eagerly accepting his every touch, and when his tongue swirled against mine, I found myself clenching my thighs.
Our kisses became more desperate, and hands began to wander. One of mine was buried in Vitale's hair, and his roamed over my sides, my back, into my hair, touching and squeezing and pulling me closer. Vitale bit my top lip, and I sucked his bottom, and we kissed until we were breathless.
"Cazzo," Vitale said hoarsely against my lips. "I want you so f*cking bad, Violet. You don't know what you do to me."
"Then show me," I breathed, confidence bubbling up from somewhere within me, and caution blowing away with winter's breeze.
In response, Vitale let his hands slide down and over my ass, squeezing my hips to his so that I could feel how turned on he was, and then lower to pick me up by my thighs. I gasped as my dress rode up, but it turned to a breathy moan when I felt his hardness press between my legs. Vitale was kissing me again, and I used my legs to pull myself closer. Our lips battled for a moment while our bodies pressed and ground together, until we were both complete messes from raw arousal.
YOU ARE READING
Christmas in Paris- A Rough Love Novel Alternate TimelineRomance
Violet, an art student studying abroad, is stuck in Paris for the holidays. She plans to spend Christmas Eve relaxing in her dorm room and reading a book, but when her friend, Cadence comes by, feeling lonely in a foreign country without her family...