Page 114 of King of Omen

It was mid-morning, and the sun was streaming through the windows, illuminating the whole place with warm light.

I found Lorenzo in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows; his muscles tensed as he chopped some herbs, his hair falling into his eyes.

He glanced up when I walked in, his eyes softening when they landed on me.

‘Buongiorno, baby,’ he said, his Italian accent thick and sensual.

‘Morning,’ I murmured, smile sweet, lips to his as we kissed.

‘I hope you slept well,’ he asked when I pulled away, pouring coffee into a cup for me.

‘I did. Thank you.’

I took the beverage from him and sipped the steaming hot liquid.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘I made poached eggs with avocado on toast. Do you want some?’

‘That sounds lovely,’ I murmured, trying to keep the hitch from my voice, missing him before I left.

‘You all packed?’ he drawled.

‘Yes, I need to get back to real life,’ I teased with a wink. ‘To the slog of toil and study, which I’ve ignored for far too long.’

‘Not if we’re together. I can take care of you,’ he growled, trailing his lips over my shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind to prevent me from escaping his clasp.

He’d been vocal over the last few days about me not needing a job.

Hearing it once more, I frowned. ‘One of the reasons you adore me is that I’m independent. I love what I do, honey, and it gives me joy—along with studying and bettering myself.’

‘When you’re my wife, I won’t let you work.’

I raised a brow. ‘Let me, Lorenzo?’ I said with a sweet smile. ‘That’s one of the most alpha statements ever. When did I give you the impression I would obey you?’

‘It’s my way.’ He snarled, possessive, rough and hella pushy.

It got me bristling, and I twisted away from him to face him.

I poked a forefinger into his muscled chest.

‘If you want me to love you with grace, you’re going to have to grant me my freedom,’ I snipped back. ‘Not that it’s yours to bestow anyway.’

He nabbed my hand, eyes glittering, and growled. ‘Touchy, aren’t we?’ he said, a dangerous smile on his lips.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing steady. Despite my irritation at his overbearing nature, I couldn’t deny his effect on me.

He leaned closer, his eyes locked with mine, and a shiver ran down my spine as he could read me like an open book.

The heat in his eyes only fueled the fire within me.

‘Do you think you can stop me from getting my way?’ he rasped, almost taunting me.

I didn’t respond, my body tightening, wet pooling between my thighs at the alpha way he gazed at me.

His gaze travelled down my frame, taking in every curve as my nipples hardened in response.

This conversation was about to descend into a mind-blowing sensual distraction, but I wasn’t about letting him get away with his old-fashioned concepts.

What might have worked in a Mafia setting in Napoli wouldn’t cut it in Sydney.

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