Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
He follows one step behind me, his shadow falling over the ground next to mine.
“How was business?” I ask.
His answer is evasive. “As usual.”
“Good then,” I conclude, glancing at him from over my shoulder and catching him ogling my ass.
“You could say that.”
I don’t insist that he elaborates. I know he wants to protect me.
“You did a good thing,” he says.
“Did I?”
“For Mrs. Campana.” He adds, “Teaching her to swim.”
Catching my hair in a ponytail, I squeeze out the water. “I said I would.”
“But you didn’t do it just to keep your promise.”
“No,” I admit. “It was important to her, and I was happy to do it.”
“The same goes for Sophie.”
I watch my step, taking care not to cut my soles on the sharp edges of the rocks. “She was a fast learner.”
“I’m not talking about teaching her to swim.”
I stop and turn around to look at him.
“I’m talking about giving her your bracelet,” he says. “The one we gave you for your sixteenth birthday.”
“Your father bought it, am I right?”
His nod is resigned. “He did.”
“I meant what I said to Sophie. It should stay in the family. As the oldest girl, it should be hers.”
“You see?” he says with a tender smile, hooking my hair behind my ear. “That’s what I’m talking about. You don’t differentiate. You treat her like she’s your own.”
“She is my own.”
His reply is gentle. “I know.”
I drink in his handsome features, enjoying the visual not in secret like when I met him when I was sixteen and he was already a man of twenty but openly. So dark. So turbulent and wild. He reserves his soft side only for the kids and me.
“Why does Mr. Luciani tread so carefully around you?” I ask. “He always seems terrified when you’re around.”
“I may have bashed his face in once,” he says casually. “I think I broke his nose.”
“What? Angelo Russo, you’re despicable.”
He shrugs. “He deserved it.”
I don’t even want to ask why. “Be nice to him. You can try a little harder to put him at ease. He’s my friend.”
“I am nice to him.” When I narrow my eyes, he says, “Have I broken his nose lately?”
I can only shake my head as I resume the climb to the house. “I invited Roch and Lydia for dinner.”
He grunts. “Do I have to share you?”
“You’re going to be nice and behave yourself. Lydia is scared enough of you as it is.”
He grumbles something under his breath.
Pausing, I prop my hands on my hips. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he says, smiling his innocent smile.
He follows me into the house and up the stairs, but as always, he stops in the bedroom, giving me privacy in the bathroom. He usually sits in the armchair next to the window, working on his phone until I’m done. Sometimes, he’ll hover in the doorframe when I brush out my hair in the dressing room, chatting about his day or arrangements that concern the kids, but he’ll never walk in while I’m getting dressed.
I stop in front of the bed and face him.
I’m ready.
He’s already taking his phone from his pocket when I reach behind my back and unfasten my top. He freezes with his phone in his hand as I push the straps over my shoulders and let the top fall at my feet. When I work the bikini bottom over my hips and down my thighs, his black eyes flare.
I step out of the bottom and toe it aside. He watches me like a wolf, sliding a hungry gaze over my naked body.
“Come here,” I say.
His jaw bunches. He stares at me as if he wants to devour me, desire etched on his face, but instead of coming closer, he stays where he is. Instead of touching me, he clutches his phone in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I close the distance, stopping flush against him. “This is what I want.”
His resolve is like static noise that crackles in the air. It only lasts until I wrap my arms around his neck, and then it snaps. He’s on me in a wink, pulling my body against his, but despite his urgency, his actions remain gentle when he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed.
He doesn’t take his eyes off my face as he lays me down on the mattress and straightens to undress. Our gazes remain locked as he unbuttons his shirt and pulls the shirttails from his pants. I watch unabashedly, taking my fill of his broad chest and the black ink that adorns his skin. I don’t mind showing him how much I enjoy the sight. I lie back, catching my weight on my elbows when he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his zipper. He removes his shoes and socks before getting rid of the rest of his clothes, and then he stands in front of me in all his naked glory, his hard, powerful body poised at the foot-end of the bed.