Page 27 of Alessio

It was easier not to ask.

Alessio didn’t want to explain that he’d felt the strangest urge to sneak that book from Ginevra’s bedside table and take a peek at where she left off before falling asleep.

“I’ll put it back before she wakes up,” he muttered.

That was way too defensive, asshole.

Corrado’s brow lifted, but he said nothing in reply to that. “Just curious.”

“I noticed she’s not in your bed,” Alessio said.

“You’re here,” Corrado replied. “I left the option open, if she wanted, and I think her conscience sent her across the hall.”

Right.

“Or her morals, yeah?”

Corrado sighed. “Are they not the same thing?”

“Not really. One means she might feel guilty, and the other says she thinks it’s wrong to have sex with someone in a relationship with someone else, Corrado. Guilt is a byproduct of an action.”

“I don’t think the latter is the problem, all things considered.”

“Or it becomes a problem when the other person is using the bedroom down the hall.”

“I didn’t come find you to talk about where Ginevra is sleeping,” Corrado said sharply.

Ah.

Who’s defensive now?

“Well,” Alessio said, shifting and dropping to the floor eight feet below soundlessly, “I suppose that means you’re sleeping alone then, doesn’t it?”

Corrado gave him a look.

Alessio just shrugged.

That was his way of telling his lover he wouldn’t be joining him in bed, either. And if there was anything Corrado hated the most, it was sleeping alone. Maybe it was because he’d become used to Alessio sharing a bed with him over the years, or because he woke up ready to fuck as soon as he cracked his eyes open.

It could have been a lot of things.

“You should suffer a little,” Alessio murmured as he came to stand in front of Corrado in the doorway, “for what you did. Take your penance, Corrado.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Do you have something new to tell me?”

“I have a question.”

Alessio tipped his head to the side, tucking that book under his arm as he shoved his other hand into his pocket. “Give it to me, then.”

“Why did you go to my family when you needed time alone? I think I know … I want to hear you say it.”

Alessio’s shoulders tensed at the question, his heart thundering with sharp beats that ached all the way through his bloodstream. If Corrado owed him certain things, then he might as well admit there was shit he should give back to the man, too.

“They remind me of you.”

Corrado’s gaze drifted over Alessio with slow intent. He wanted something. To be close—closer—to touch, or to fuck. To have the thing he wanted, or one, which was Alessio. It was his gaze that always told the truth when his mouth didn’t.