I break out into a laugh. “I’m sorry, but are you seriously suggesting we have sex?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He says it so nonchalantly, as if he really doesn’t see anything wrong with it. I shouldn’t even be shocked anymore.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I say as he walks us into his room and finally sets me down.
“You’re loss,mia moglie.”
I look around the room and notice my boxes aren’t anywhere to be found. “What happened to all my stuff?”
“I had my housekeeper put it away for you,” Massimo calls out from the walk-in closet he’s disappeared into.
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Yeah, she just comes once a week to clean. She was here yesterday. Your clothes are all put away on the right side of the closet. Toiletries are already in the bathroom—your side is the left side—and anything she wasn’t sure where to put, she left in a box in here.” He walks out of his closet in nothing but his black boxer briefs.
My eyes widen and I gasp. “Oh my gosh! What’re you doing?”
I can’t help but let my eyes wander down his broad chest, to his narrow waist that boasts a ridiculously chiseled eight-pack, following the fine line of hair that leads to the band of his boxers. When I take in the bulge being restricted only by a thin layer of fabric, I snap my gaze back up to his, and he gives me another one of his annoyingly smug looks.
I hate that he just caught me checking him out, but I couldn’t help myself. When a godlike creature is put in front of you, you’re bound to slip up.
I let out an agitated sigh. “Put on some clothes, will you?”
“I’m about to take a shower,mia moglie. You’re more than welcome to join me.”
“Yeah, I’d really rather not.”
He chuckles and walks toward the en suite. “Your loss,” he says over his shoulder as he hooks his thumb under the back of the waistband of his boxers.
My jaw drops when he starts sliding them down before he gets into the bathroom, and as he disappears into it, all I’m left with is a blush that heats my cheeks at the sight of my new husband’s ass.
I feel like I’m being seduced, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.
When the sound of the shower turning on fills the air, I hurry toward the walk-in closet and quickly find my silk pajamas and a fresh pair of underwear.
I refuse to join Massimo in that shower.
I rush out of the room, the weight of the train of my dress slowing me down, and find another bathroom down the hall.
Closing the door and locking it, I press my back against it and close my eyes, letting out a long breath.
Get it together, Liana.
That might’ve been one hell of an ass, but there are plenty of asses out there. There’s nothing special about Massimo’s.
Pushing myself off the door, I turn on the shower and am thankful there’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash already in here. It’s not what I usually use, but I refuse to enter his bathroom.
I rummage through the drawers under the sink and am pleased to find everything you could possibly need to get ready for bed. I’m not sure if I should be impressed with Massimo or his housekeeper.
I’m choosing his housekeeper. I don’t want to give that man any more credit than he deserves.
I take my time in the shower, trying to figure out what I’m going to do when I get back to the room. Massimo is clearly not going to take the couch, but what if I ignore him and take it first? That could give me the separation my body clearly needs from him.
When I get back to our room, he’s already in bed on his phone with the lamp from his nightstand on. He’s sitting up, shirtless, and my face heats again.
Why does he have to be so damn attractive?
