Page 57 of A New Days Don

“What do you mean? You’re the one who ran to the door like the building was on fire.” Massimo, still tense as he holds me near him, responds, his voice on edge.

My cheeks warm as I shove my hands over my face to hide my giggles, “There’s no fire.”

When I peer through my fingers, I see Massimo staring at me with an amused look on his face, “Were you just excited to see me?”

“Cocky,” I elbow him, stepping away so I can put a pair of black Converse on.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘correct.’” When I glare at him, he chuckles, his head falling back.

“You didn’t give me a lot of time to prepare…” I brush my hair out of my face, looking through one of the drawers in the tall table near the front door for a hair tie.

“You don’t need to prepare. You looked perfect.” Massimo’s words make me pause. Looked. As in the past tense. As in…

I eye him over my shoulder, and he chuckles, “There isn’t a thing you wouldn’t have looked perfect in.”

My body warms at the compliment, and I turn back to where my hand is still digging through a pile of random items. I grab the first hair tie I see, mixed in with a bunch of wires, paper, and other miscellaneous items that I have tossed into this drawer over time.

“Doubtful,” I mumble as I go to tie my hair up, but Massimo stops me. His calloused hand wraps gently around my elbow.

When I look over at him, his dark eyes are boring into me like I am the most interesting thing he’s seen, “Leave your hair down.”

Leave my hair down?

I haven’t left the house with my hair down in years. It has become a part of my identity, a ritual that prepares me for the outside world and reminds me of who I am now. The hand holding the elastic twitches, but when Massimo extends his hand and murmurs, “please,” a word that almost seems foreign falling from his lips, I drop the hair tie.

I place my hand in his outstretched one. The smile he gives me is sinful, and when his large hand wraps around my much smaller one, the constant electric hum of panic in my veins quiets down.

We sit out front of a very closed-looking gelato shop, directly across from the iconic Vegas fountain, which is currently spraying in patterns with strobing lights, adjacent to where we are parked. A group of girls, dressed in matching sequinned dresses that barely cover their bottoms, giggle past us.

Massimo cuts the engine to his Audi, and I whip my head over to him, “What are you doing?”

Massimo quirks a brow as if he doesn’t realize that he isn’t parked somewhere he is allowed to park, “Turning the car off.”

“This isn’t a parking space. In fact, you are partially on the sidewalk.” I note. His cheek twitches as if I am amusing him. My eyes narrow on him.

“I am aware of that. Are you going to cuff me this time?” The tease sends all the wrong signals all over my body. I blame the flirty lilt to his voice and the way his eyes burn with lingering desire.

My cheeks warm, but I keep my face schooled in a glare.

“There is probably a parking garage somewhere around here.” I change the topic, looking out the windshield in search of a green ‘P.’ I perk up when I see one down the road and point to it, “Over there.”

Massimo chuckles to himself, shaking his head, and turning over his engine. I realize that maybe I am being too strict about the law, but they are rules. I need rules and structure. Though this evening is far from my usual structured day. Hell, look at me, my hair is wild and untamed.

I itch my wrist, and when I don’t find a hair tie, I tap my fingers on my lap. When Massimo’s large hand wraps around my fingers, I gasp, stopping the anxious tick. I look over at him, his coffee-coloured eyes peer over at me from his peripherals.

“You’re jumpy.” Massimo comments, his hand returning to the steering wheel as he guides the car into the underground garage and presses the ticket button.

“Not any more than usual,” I bite back, pushing some of my hair out of my face. The darkness swallows the car as we search for a space.

Massimo pulls into the first one he sees and hops out of the car, not giving me time to open my own door. Before I can step out, I come face to face with his crotch. The bulge in his slacks reminds me of what we did earlier, and my face heats up.

When Massimo extends his hand, I dodge it and try to put some distance between us, for my sake more than anything else. Vivid images of his silver glinting tip flash through my mind, making warmth pool between my thighs. I swear I can feel the way his ridge rubbed against me, the friction sending sweet pulses of delicious pleasure through my tightly wound body, coaxing it to relax.

“Yes, more than usual.” He responds, repeating my words back to me. When he steps forward, advancing towards me, I take one back. We do this dance, his eyes warming as if he can see and feel my own body radiating my heat of arousal. My back presses against his Audi, making me gasp and arch into him.

His chest rumbles with satisfaction, and my toes curl in my shoes, “Call it exhaustion.”

I shrug a shoulder, trying to maintain whatever cool I have left while my mind spins, but Massimo doesn’t buy the excuse, and if there is one thing he is not, it’s amenable, so he pushes, “Mmm, yes, and why would my beautiful woman be exhausted?”