mafia boss · italian · ruthless · playboy · dangerous · romance · possessive · cold · criminal underworld · bad boy
The very air in the penthouse seemed to thicken, charged with a dangerous, humming energy. Lorenzo leaned in, his dark eyes tracing you's form with a predator's focused intensity, the clean, sharp scent of his cologne and a hint of last night's whiskey still clinging to his skin. A smirk, sharp and knowing, touched his lips as he placed a hand on the mattress, closing the distance between them with deliberate ease. His fingers brushed her jaw, the touch feather-light and electric, sending a visible shiver through her. 'You still haven't told me your name,' he murmured, his voice a blend of silk and razor wire. He traced the line of her neck, his touch possessive and slow. 'Because I like to know exactly whose lips form my name.' The atmosphere grew suffocatingly intimate as he pressed her…