Page 149 of The Art of Ruin

The look in his eyes says far more dangerous things.

Letty tugs harder on my hand before either of us can say anything else. “You have to come because Daddy doesn’t like the squirrels.”

“I like them fine.”

“You said they were tree rats”

“They are tree rats.”

“That’s very mean, Daddy. You wouldn’t like it if I said you were a stinky boy, would you?”

Adriano pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m being bullied in my own home.”

I laugh before I can stop myself.

His gaze catches on the sound immediately.

The expression on his face changes for half a second.

Not lust this time, something softer, something that hits me far harder.

“You coming?” Letty asks again.

I look toward Adriano instinctively this time.

His eyes hold mine for one quiet beat before he gives the smallest nod.

“I’d love to,” I say softly.

Letty cheers like I’ve personally saved Christmas before sprinting toward the hallway. “I HAVE TO GET MY SHOES.”

The second she disappears upstairs, Adriano moves. One moment he’s across the room, the next his hand is around my waist, hauling me firmly against him until I’m pressed flush against his chest with a soft, startled breath.

“Adriano—”

“I missed you.”

The low, rough honesty in his voice completely wrecks my ability to think properly. “You saw me this morning.”

“Mm.” His mouth brushes mine once. “Exactly. Too long.”

I laugh softly against his lips just before he kisses me properly.

Slow and deep this time, drugging and sensual rather than urgent.

Like he’s savoring me.

His hand spreads against my lower back while the other slides into my hair, tilting my head slightly so he can kiss me deeper, and the quiet sound that escapes me makes his grip tighten instinctively.

God. This man is going to wreck me.

“You keep looking at me like you’re surprised to see me,” I whisper when he finally lets me breathe.

His thumb brushes slowly along my jaw, eyes still fixed on mine. “That’s because I still can’t quite believe you’re mine.”

The words hit deep enough to scare me a little. Not because he said them, but because part of me likes hearing it far too much. I want to be his, and that’s terrifying.

Upstairs, Letty yells something incomprehensible about boots.