“Because… you call me on my shit. Because you don’t flinch when I’m messy. Because when I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m performing. I don’t feel like I have to."
My breath catches.
And the weight of his honesty crashes over me like a wave, stealing the air from my lungs.
I grip my knees, suddenly unsteady, and force myself not to look away.
I don’t know what to say to that, what to do with the truth sitting heavy between us.
I want to brush it off, make a joke, keep things light. But I can’t. Not when my heart’s racing like this.
So, I do the only thing that feels right.
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder.
He shifts his body so I'm nuzzled into his chest. He wraps his arms around me like it’s nothing.
But it’s everything.
As I begin to fall asleep in his arms, I let myself believe this could be something real.
***
I stand in my bedroom, surrounded by a battlefield of potential outfits.
There’s another charity event on the schedule, something boring, glossy, and far too public, but I can’t focus on that. Not when everything I own suddenly feels wrong. Too stiff. Too corporate. Too not-me.
I pull on a silk camisole and blazer combination, planning to test it with the heels I stashed by the front door.
Maybe Alessio can help me decide.
I walk into the living room. “Alessio, can you…”
He looks up from the couch.
And freezes.
And I realize why.
Did I do this on purpose or really not realize that I was wearing next to nothing?
His gaze drops slowly, trailing from the lapels of my blazer to the hem that barely kisses the top of my thighs. His mouth parts slightly as he eyes my lacey panties. Then closes. Then parts again.
“You trying to kill me,dolcezza?” His voice is low. Rough, with a hint of something darker threading through it.
His fists clench at his sides, like it’s taking everything in him not to close the distance between us.
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to act unfazed as his eyes are devouring me.
“It’s just an outfit.”
He stands. “That’snotan outfit. That’s foreplay.”
Heat races through me, pooling between my thighs.
“I’m not changing.” I lift my chin.
He takes a step closer. “Didn’t ask you to. But I think you should have something to cover up the lace undies. That won't go over well at the charity event.”
