Tasting The Virgin's Lips

Lorenzo halted just outside the bathroom threshold, the thick steam rolling out into the cooler bedroom air behind him. Hot water dripped steadily from the ends of his dark hair. The droplets trailed down the deep, defined ridges of his bare, muscular chest and soaked directly into the thick white fabric of the towel sitting low on his waist. He was already running incredibly late for his morning meetings. He had expected to rush through a quick shower and get dressed in peace, assuming Silvia had already departed the estate. Instead, he found the petite blonde maid standing frozen in the middle of his ruined personal space.

The universe clearly possessed a twisted, sick sense of humor. His mind had been a messy battlefield of inner turmoil regarding her since last night, and now fate was throwing her directly into his path yet again. He watched her chest heave with shallow, erratic breaths as she refused to turn around. She purposefully kept her gaze locked on the floorboards, trying to pretend he did not exist. Even from his vantage point, he could see the deep crimson flush rapidly spreading across her cheeks and down the back of her pale neck. A smug sense of amusement washed over him.

He grabbed a small cloth to dry his face. "What exactly are you doing in my bedroom?"

Gemma flinched at the sudden boom of his voice. She slowly turned to face him, though she kept her eyes strictly glued to the plush rug beneath her feet.

"Agata instructed me to clean your room this morning, sir. I came to do that." Her small, fragile voice wavered in the quiet space.

Lorenzo tossed the cloth onto a nearby leather armchair and folded his thick arms across his wet chest. A wicked, knowing grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He had seen this exact script play out dozens of times. Over his years running the criminal empire, countless maids and staff members had used simple household chores as a weak, convenient pretense to sneak into his private quarters. They would conveniently forget to knock or accidentally leave buttons undone on their uniforms. Women constantly threw themselves at his feet, desperate for a taste of his money, influence, and power. He had zero doubt this innocent, shy routine was just another calculated, manipulative attempt to get into his bed.

"Is that right?" He took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Are you going to stand there and tell me you genuinely did not know I was in here?"

Gemma shrank back. Raw fear flared wildly in her wide, doe-like eyes. "I did not know you were here, sir. I promise I did not know."

Lorenzo let out a dark, low chuckle. He stalked closer, moving with the heavy, calculated grace of a predator cornering its prey. With every step he took, Gemma took a frantic step backward.

"You do not need to lie to me, little bird."

She kept retreating until the back of her knees abruptly hit the edge of the mattress. She lost her balance and tumbled backward, her body sinking into the soft, unmade bedsheets. Lorenzo did not stop. He closed the remaining distance in a second, his massive frame towering over her trapped form. He leaned down, placing his large hands flat on the mattress on either side of her hips, effectively caging her in. The scent of his expensive soap mixed with the raw, masculine sweat from his morning run wrapped around her.

His husky, low voice pinned her securely to the bed. "You came in here because you wanted a piece of me."

Gemma stared up at him in pure horror, pressing her spine deep into the mattress. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

Lorenzo scoffed. He rolled his eyes, convinced her pure, naive confusion was just a well-rehearsed act. She wanted to play the virgin card to make him chase her.

"I am pretty sure you came in here because you want me to touch you. You have heard the wild stories about me and the things I can do, and you want to experience it for yourself." He lowered his face even closer, his arrogant, dark gaze dropping down to focus intensely on her trembling pink lips. "I do not usually fuck my workers. I prefer to keep my business separate from my bed. But since you want it so desperately, I am willing to make an exception for you just this once."

He leaned in close enough for their noses to brush. He inhaled deep into his lungs, taking in the intoxicating scent of her soft blonde hair. It smelled vividly of lavender and chamomile. The sweet, clean fragrance flooded his senses, pulling him in further.

Chills wracked Gemma's small frame at the close contact. The raw heat radiating from his wet, bare chest burned against her skin even through the fabric of her uniform. The sinful proposition horrified her. The strict, rigid teachings of the monastery sisters echoed loudly in her mind, warning her against the illicit, dirty desires of the flesh.

Her chin flew up in sudden, fiery defiance. She planted both of her small hands flat against the hard, wet muscle of his bare chest and shoved him as hard as she could.

"Do not come close to me. It is not right."

Lorenzo did not budge an inch. The physical rejection only fueled his arrogance. "Do not play pretend with me. I know you want this just as much as I do."

Before she could process his words or move her head away, Lorenzo forcefully crashed his mouth directly onto hers. He did not ask for permission. He pressed his lips hard against her soft, plush mouth, dominating her space and claiming her mouth with brutal confidence. The kiss was an instant, electric shock to his system. It was unlike any shallow, empty kiss he had ever experienced in his life. Her lips were incredibly soft, lush, and intoxicatingly divine beneath his own. A heavy, dark surge of raw lust slammed into him, making his pulse roar in his ears. He tasted her deeply, dragging his mouth over hers, realizing in a split second that he desperately wanted more of this feeling.

Instead of melting into his forceful embrace, Gemma reacted with pure panic. She shoved his shoulders with all of her might, breaking the kiss. She swung her arm back and delivered a hard, stinging slap directly across his right cheek.

The sharp crack echoed through the silent bedroom.

Shock coursed through Lorenzo. Blinding confusion froze him in place. He slowly lifted his hand, pressing his long fingers against the stinging flesh of his cheek. No woman had ever dared to strike him in his entire life. The sheer disrespect was a death sentence in his world. He looked down at the petite maid, his jaw clenched tight, fully prepared to unleash his terrifying wrath for the physical assault.

The blazing anger died instantly in his throat. Her large, innocent eyes were flooded with thick, undeniable tears. Heavy droplets spilled over her eyelashes and raced down her flushed cheeks.

Before Lorenzo could even begin to comprehend why she was the one crying when he was the one who had just been slapped, Gemma scrambled frantically off the mattress. She stumbled over her own feet, regained her balance, and bolted out of the open bedroom door. She ran down the hallway with desperate speed, looking exactly like a terrified victim fleeing from a gang of robbers.

Lorenzo stood alone in the wrecked suite. The silence of the room pressed heavily against his ringing ears. He lowered his hand from his stinging cheek and slowly traced his thumb across his own bottom lip. He felt the lingering moisture from her mouth.

He did not regret the kiss. She had tasted exactly like honey straight from a nectar. He stared at the empty doorway, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, knowing with heavy certainty that given the chance, he would do it over and over again.