Everyone in the hotel lobby seemed to be watching—the comings and goings, the whispers—but he didn’t care.
“Now you have a problem with my touch?” he breathed, amusement lacing his voice. Then it dropped—rough, raspy. “Funny… last night, you didn’t seem to mind when I was inside you, screaming my name, begging me not to stop.”
Her jaw clenched at his shameless audacity. He was bringing this up while they were standing right there, in front of half the hotel lobby. Even though she tried to hide it, her face burned crimson at the memory of last night’s passion.
“What do you want to hear, Mr. Mancini?” she shot back sarcastically, her narrowed eyes flashing with irritation—and for some reason, that only seemed to please him. Rosa burned inside at the thought that he enjoyed getting under h
