No, I’d been busy ogling. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch the last thing.”
“What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”
My gaze trailed down his pecs and back on those abs. “Yeah, that, I…” I squeezed my eyes shut and jutted a thumb at the windows. “The storm.”
“You’re afraid of thunderstorms?”
So much. “I just hate the sound.” Another boom of thunder made me jump, proving me a liar.
He chuckled. “What do you normally do to get back to sleep when youjust hate the sound?”
I bit my lip. “I cuddle with Nicky if she’s up, but she’s fast asleep. A hot drink helps or I just put some music on and play with it. I didn’t want to wake anybody up with my music, so I went down to find the kitchen, but I got lost…”
He grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”
I stifled a yelp. Uninvited touches, even the simplest as handshakes or friendly hugs from either boys or girls, agitated me, especially after yesterday.
Except with this man.
Every time he held my hand, it didn’t bother me at all. It was rather comforting than annoying. The warmth from his grasp soothed me like a balm. So protective. So…daddy like. In the nice, lovely, caring way I’d seen with my friends at school. Notmydaddy.
He only let go of my hand when he turned on the kitchen lights, and I mourned the loss of his touch.
When he spun around, I saw the gun in the back of his pants. Holy shit. He took it out and put it on the counter before he reached for the upper cabinets, his muscles flexing and stretching. He got out a mug and a glass. “What do you like to drink? Herbal tea? Regular tea?” He asked as he put water in the kettle.
“No, please. I’ll do it.” I hurried toward him to take the kettle from his hand.
He moved his arm away, smirking at me. “It’s not a big deal. Just tell me what you want.”
“Don Bellomo—”
“Tino. Nobody calls me Don Bellomo but my staff and soldiers. You’re neither.”
“So Nicky was right?”
“About?” He put the kettle on the stove.
I didn’t realize I said that out loud. I cleared my throat. “Uh…about your street name. She said Tino was your—”
“She’s right. It’s also short for Sebastiano. That’s what you’ll call me from now on. Now, about that tea?”
“Just please tell me where the sugar and the tea are.” I opened drawers and cabinets nervously, clumsily getting in his way, bumping into his hot, firm body. “I can make my own and will make some for you, too.” I almost hit his face, opening the cabinet above him, bumping into him again as I stretched on my toes.
Suddenly, his hands were on my waist, the kettle whistling with the boiling water, and as he lifted me and put me on the counter in front of him, my skin was whistling with heat.
My breath caught in my heaving chest, and my nipples hardened. Shoot. I was wearing a light t-shirt with no bra. If his gaze lowered a tad, he could see.
His gaze held me in place. “When I offer to do something for you, you don’t argue, you don’t negotiate, you only say thank you.”
“Thank you,” I said as if in a trance.
“Thank you what?”
“Thank you…Tino?”
“Atta girl. Now, anise or chamomile?”
“Chamomile, thank you.”
