I smile. Not a dream. My eyes flutter open. His bedroom has blackout curtains, so I have no idea what time it is. I roll over and take in the beauty of his full mouth, morning stubble and long lashes resting against his cheeks. “How did you know I was awake?”
He tugs me closer against his body, and his warmth seeps into my bones. I’ve never felt safer. “Your breathing changed.”
The memory of the car accident and kidnapping hits me and ends the blissful moment. On its heels, the events of last night rush in. My new half-brother. My Irish mob father. So much to process.
I pull back and rest my hand against his cheek. “Were you hurt in the accident?”
He presses his forehead against mine. “I’m fine, now that you’re back where you belong.”
The tenderness in his voice almost crushes me. Because no, this isn’t where I belong. I don’t belong in his bed or in his life.
He must feel the shift in my mood because he sighs and strokes my hair. “Tell me.”
“I should go,” I whisper. “I have to call work.”
“They’ve already been informed of your car accident and that you’ll be out for the rest of the week.” His jaw tightens as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want my doctor to look at you first.” He kisses me tenderly and then slips out of bed. He’s walking stiffly. Hiding an injury from the car accident, most likely. “Go ahead and use my shower. She should be here by the time you’re finished.”
She?A stab of jealousy makes me sit up.
I watch as he slips on a T-shirt, the hard muscles in his back rippling beneath a large tattoo of a snake, its mouth stretched wide around an apple. I wonder if that’s a Garden of Eden reference. There’s so much I want to learn about the man he’s become.
He grabs his phone, runs a hand through his hair and then turns to me. Even in the dark room, I can see the haunting sadness in his eyes. “Breakfast will be waiting when you’re done.”
After he steps out, I force myself from the warm bed and into the bathroom.
The bathroom is white marble and chrome with a tiled shower big enough for six people. Slipping off my clothes, I step into the shower and play with the knobs, trying to get the water to turn on. Suddenly it does… from four different directions, and it's obviously piped in straight from Antarctica.
I squeal and jump back.
The door bangs open and Sandro rushes in. Our eyes lock, and then his slowly travel down my naked body. He visibly swallows and forces his gaze back on mine. “You okay?”
I wrap an arm around my breasts and motion helplessly at the icy sprays that just hit the top of my head, my chest, between my legs and shins at the same time. “I was violated by your shower.”
The most beautiful grin stretches his mouth, popping his dimples. “Fuck it,” he growls. His eyes sparkle deviously as he pulls off his shirt and then drops his black boxers.
“What… what are you…” My gaze catches on the deep purple bruise over his ribs, but then drops to his heavy cock, which is becoming harder by the second.
With just a few steps, he adjusts the temperature and stands between me and the offending water. Resting his hands on my hips, he digs his fingers into my soft flesh. With a touch of humor he says, “My eyes are up here, Angel.”
I blink and tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “This isn’t a good idea.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my brain goes to war with my body.
Don’t do this. It will only make it harder to leave.
One more time. You deserve one more memory to revisit when you’re lonely.
“I disagree. Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you in this shower?” Before I can even process that thought, he leans down and captures my mouth. It’s pure possession, both hands moving to grip my hair, his tongue exploring with an urgency I understand and embrace.
My palms are on his chest, over the rose tattoo of my name. I slide them down and feel him wince when I brush the bruise. “Sorry,” I whisper and pull away.
“You never have to be sorry for anything.” He kisses my nose and flips us around, so my chest is to the water. I’m grateful it’s warm now and only coming out of the top faucet like rain.
He gathers my wet mass of hair, and I catch the scent of his shampoo as he squeezes some into his palm. Gently, he lathers it into my hair, massaging my scalp with expert fingers.
“Mmmm.” I lean back into him, my ass against the top of his thighs. My core contracts as I feel how hard his cock is against my body, and I can’t help but wiggle against it.
“Is that an invitation?” The question is a low whisper in my ear. One of his hands drops between our bodies. “Because if it is, I accept.” He slides a finger through my slick folds, then pushes deep inside me, sending a white-hot jolt of pleasure up my spine.
I gasp, and he mumbles something in Italian. “Your body was made for me.”
