Russo is part of that family. So true, I've got that blood in my body. True, I grew up knowing the Barsantis. And true, that also makes Johnny Amaro my uncle through marriage, but none of that makes me one of them. Because also true is the fact that I took care of you, the fact that I didn't judge you, the fact that I spoke up for you when nobody else would. I let you into my apartment and welcomed you into my life, even though I'm a Brazzi, which is apparently a problem for some reason, but whatever. Any more questions?"
Dante's gaze drifted to her face. "Where are your clothes?"
"My what?"
"Clothes," he said again, waving her direction."It's kind of hard to pay attention to what you're saying when you're standing in front of me not wearing any clothes."
She glanced down at herself, rolling her eyes when she got a look at herself. Cheeky black panties. Threadbare tank top. Plain black bra. Hideous white tube socks that almost reached her knees. Ugh. Ridiculous, maybe, but she was far from naked. "You see people wearing a lot less than this at the beach."
"I don't go to the beach."
"Strip club, then. Is that more your speed?"
A small smirk cracked his expression. His whole face lit up when he smiled, no matter how slightly. He hadn't done it often since barreling into her life, usually surrounded by dark storms, but those rare moments he smiled, it felt like the sun coming out, peeking through the rain clouds. It warmed her.
"Been to a few of those," he said. "Never seen a woman this beautiful working the pole, though."
His gaze unabashedly scanned her, tingles trailing wherever his eyes went. Her face heated, her stupid heart doing some crazy pitter-patter in her chest.
"Stop flirting with me," she said. "I'm trying to be mad at you."
"Why?"
Why?
Why?
"Seriously? Did you just ask me why?"
His eyes met hers, his eyebrows raised. "What?"
What?
What?
"Are you seriously not listening to me? Like, no bullcrap… you legitimately haven't heard a word I've said."
"Oh, I heard you," he said. "Something about strip clubs and beaches and Brazzis. It just doesn't seem that important when you're not wearing any pants."
"Oh my God."
"Is that a birthmark on your inner thigh?" he asked, cocking his head, his gaze trailing her body again, going to her legs. "Looks like one, but I can't really see it unless you, well, spread your legs for me."
Oh. My. God.
"I swear, you…" She shook her head, flustered by his gaze as her words trailed off. She'd always considered herself confident, but he looked at her like he was memorizing every inch of exposed skin, and that made her nervous. Self-conscious. More than a little turned on, too. "You're the reason stupid dress codes exist these days, you know. Guys like you, blowing loads over seeing collar bones."
His gaze darted up to her shoulders and along her chest. "Those are nice, too."
"Stop. Seriously. Stop checking out my bones and stuff. I mean it, Dante."
Leaning back on the couch, he crossed his arms over his chest, his face alight with amusement. That smirk was still on his lips, not helping her predicament. The blush from her cheeks was spreading all through her body, and she knew there was no way he hadn't noticed.
"Fine," he said. "You were saying?"
"I was saying, you know…" Ugh, what the heck was I saying? "I'm a Brazzi."
"I know," he said. "We established that outside."
"And whatever, if that's a problem, I guess it's just a problem. There's nothing I can do about it. I can't change my DNA."
"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said. "Genetics gave you those collar bones and that birthmark. Would be a pity to never see them again."
"Well… good."
"Good," he repeated. "Are you done being mad now? Can I flirt some more?"
"Yes. Wait. No. I'm not, I mean… ugh!"
He laughed. Genuinely laughed. The sound was so light and carefree that it drained away most of her irritation. Had she ever heard him laugh like that? She didn't think so. A soft chuckle here and there, always restrained, weighed down. But this laughter came from somewhere deep down, like some of those clouds parted, letting the real him shine through.
Standing, Dante strolled over to where she stood. The closer he got, the more her heart acted up, her body reacting to him. Butterflies. She had butterflies. They battered her stomach from the inside.
She felt like a lovesick teenage girl. What the heck?