Sam flushed as his aunt approached, a first-aid kit in her hand.
“Leave us,Zia.”
Maria gave Sam a quizzical look and left.
Deafening tension crackled around them. Sounds from the outside breezed into the room, the table dappled in bright morning light as if the universe itself was orchestrating the moment. That sharp pain persisted in her foot, but the feel of Alessandro’s powerful thighs pushing hers wide apart trumped every other sensation. Awareness pulsed with a vengeance between her thighs.
With that tightness to his movements that betrayed his lack of control, he undid the cuffs of his dress shirt and pushed the sleeves back. The sight of his corded forearms sprinkled with dark hair made her think of those arms holding her down, of those long fingers touching her everywhere.
God, everything about the man made her think of sex.
“Alessandro…” she said, suddenly glad for Angelina’s stunt. Which made her more than a little twisted in the head. “It was just juice—”
Pushing the wooden bench back, he brought her foot to his thigh. Even the sight of her foot in his large, elegant hands made her core flutter. Not looking at her, he laid out a bunch of things from the kit on the dark wood of the table.
Sam pressed her heel into the hard muscle while he, with infinite care, pulled out the shard stuck in her foot. Her heart expanded to dangerous proportions as she watched him clean up the cut, apply an antibiotic and wrap her foot in layers of gauze.
A muscle jumped in his cheek as he packed up the supplies. “Do you still think I’m overreacting?”
“I never thought that.” Gripping his wrist, she whispered, “Won’t you look at me?”
Those long lashes lifted, and the cocktail of emotions there made her swallow.
Not because she was afraid of him. Never.
But she’d never seen him at the edge of control like this. The devil in her wanted to push a little more to see what she could get out of it. God, when had she become so conniving? “You’re very angry.”
“What if it had been hot soup or that ginger chai you drink in the mornings?”
How was she not supposed to feel flattered by the fact that he didn’t miss a single thing about her? “It wasn’t.”
“She could have seriously hurt you.”
“She scared me, yes, but she didn’t hurt me. What she wanted more than anything was to make herself feel better.”
Eyes wide, he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Sam was thinking the same. But for other reasons. “How would you know this?”
“I have a cousin like her, a total diva. And I’ve seen the lingering panic in Angelina’s eyes. She’s scared that she’ll lose Matteo. To something worse than me. I’m the option she can control. If you’d given me a moment with her, I could—”
His scowl deepened. “You’re not going near her.”
“And who are you to order me around?”
“Per piacere, Sam. Do not push me around right now.”
“You called me Sam,” she whispered, beaming wide. Her foot hurt, her heart was getting entangled in this man, but that he called her Sam was enough to send her on a fizzy trip.
He looked at her, finally. Properly looked into her eyes. And the hook was back in her lower belly tugging and pulling her into those gray depths.
“I don’t want to fight with you about her,” she said in a low whisper.
A soft, breathtaking smile lifted the edge of his mouth. It was like standing in a patch of sunshine created just for her. “And here I thought you loved nothing more than to put me in my place.”
Lifting her hand, Sam almost touched the groove the smile dug in one cheek. “I miss you,” she said, her fingers hovering over his jaw.
Every inch of her wanted to touch him, to mark him. To claim every small part of him as her own. Beginning with that smile. If it were up to her, she’d make sure everyone knew they belonged to her. The ones where his gray eyes turned warm and one corner of his mouth tugged up…they came out for her, only her.
He tensed. “Youmissme?” he said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite get the texture of the words on his lips.
