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“Are you alone?”
“Si,” he responds, his voice getting low.
“Lock the bedroom door,” I tell him.
I hear the lock snap into place, and then I grab a towel. I come out of the bathroom and find him sitting on the chair next to the bed. He’s still wearing his black tactical clothes, still has blood on his face.
Elio Rossi is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I have to tell him.
Marching forward, I hold my head up. I look at him.
And I drop the towel.
I need him. I want him. My body is screaming at me to feel Elio’s touch, because I don’t want the memory of that awful man to be imprinted anywhere on my skin. Walking out of the shower naked is part of that plan.
More than that, though, I need to hold him. To remind myself that this is real. He’s real, he’s here, and he’s okay.
And so am I.
“Did he touch you?” Elio growls as he surveys my body.
I shake my head. “No. Not in any way that matters. He put me in that ugly lingerie and I let him kiss me, but only so I could grab his knife.”
Honesty feels kind of important right now, so that’s what I opt for.
Elio bristles, his eyes flashing dark. “I will kill him again…”
“You can’t, Elio. He’s dead.”
The words feel as final as the concept itself.
Finally, Elio sighs. “I suppose I should count myself lucky you never searched me for weapons when we kissed.”
“You probably should,” I respond.
Honestly, I never once thought to look and see if he was armed. All the time we kissed, I wouldn’t’ have remembered to look.
During those times, only Elio mattered.
He surveys my naked body. “I want to see if you’re alright,” he says gruffly.
I pull my hair back and over my shoulder. It’s wet, and the trail of water somehow manages to drip right over one of my nipples.
Elio watches the movement with clear, unfiltered lust.
He stands from where he’s been sitting and prowls around me in a circle. I hold my head up high, but I can practically feel his eyes on my skin. Everywhere he looks, goosebumps rise like daisies in the spring.
“You appear unhurt,” Elio growls.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
“I do not agree that you are fine, Caterina.”
He comes back around to my front. His knuckles skim my face, and he pushes the hair away from my ears. I shiver as he continues to use the back of his hand to glide down my front, brushing against my nipples before his fingers tip south.
He pauses, just outside of my core. “Caterina…” his voice trails off.
