“No, I want to know.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth and his arms wrapped around me so his fingers were resting on the sides of my br**sts.
Then he muttered, “Maybe we’ll just f**k.”
I felt my knees wobble as my lungs expanded. “I could spend time not f**king,” I blurted.
He grinned.
Foiled again!
I glared.
He caught the glare and his body started shaking with laughter again.
“Honestly, I hate you,” I told him.
“No,” his mouth came to mine, his eyes not leaving my own, “you don’t.”
Against my will, I started sliding into a fog. My head tilted back further, his slanted and he started to kiss me when the buzzer went. He disengaged from my lips but kissed my nose, then walked away.
In another fog, I watched him move. He’d put on another pair of sweatpants, these black with three black-on-black stripes up the sides.
Not surprisingly, his chest was bare.
I noticed, not for the first time but with my Luke Sense significantly more honed after our sex-a-thon that he moved well. He moved like he was in absolute command of every centimeter of muscle, sinew and bone in his body and there were a lot of them. I sighed at the sight and even I had to admit it was a contented sound.
Damn it all to hell.
He picked up the door phone and said, “Yeah?” Three seconds later, his eyes cut to me.
Whatever it was, I knew by the look of him was not good.
He listened for another couple of seconds then, without a word, he put down the phone. I watched him walk back to me and since he had a funny look on his face, as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or yell, I didn’t watch the way he moved just his expression. I was waiting for him to decide.
He came into the kitchen and leaned his h*ps against the counter opposite me, putting his palms on it at his sides.
“Santo Mancini wants you to know he’s ready just in case you wanna go somewhere,” he told me calmly neither laughing nor yelling (which was a relief).
I stared at him. “Who?” I asked.
“Santo Mancini.”
“Who’s San…?” Oh shit. Ren’s bodyguard.
Again, I wanted someone to tell me, why me? My life was so complicated, I couldn’t even keep track of all the f**ked up shit that was happening.
His voice started sliding into the “going to yell” zone. “You wanna tell me why the guy who kidnapped you a few days ago is buzzin’ up to the loft tellin’ me he’s waitin’ for you downstairs?”
No, I actually didn’t want to tell him.
“Um…”
“Ava,” he said low.
What the hell. “Well, I told Ren what was happening and he kind of arranged for Sissy and me to have bodyguards.”
He stared at me a beat then his head dropped and he might have been staring at his feet or he might have closed his eyes. I couldn’t see which one and it didn’t matter really. He was in another masculine position of reflection, this time likely wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into when he got mixed up with me.