Page 86 of King of Omen

His eyes darkened with jealousy. ‘Friends? Maybe. Lovers or admirers? Assolutamente no! There’s no way I will allow it. I will never permit another to take my place in your heart.’

Blood pounded in my chest as I gazed at Lorenzo in his full glory, chest heaving, lips twisting in his passionate delivery.

Fuck, he was possessive AF, damn fierce and, to some degree, sweet and endearing, but it sent a bolt of wariness through me.

My freedom was essential, and I refused to be trapped in a cage, no matter how beautiful the walls were.

‘Lorenzo, I need to be able to have male and female friends. I don’t want to lose myself in this relationship.’

‘Bella,’ he rumbled, gentle but firm. ‘I would never ask you to sacrifice yourself. But when it comes to others in your world, I will always be watching, always be on guard. Fuck woman, you’ve left your mark on me, and I’ll never take my eyes off you.’

I inhaled deeply, trying to reconcile the two opposing feelings in my chest—the desire to be his and the necessity to remain myself.

‘I understand,’ I exhaled. ‘I’ll say the same for you too.’

His freakin’ sensual lips curled into a satisfied smile. ‘We are agreed. I will never let anyone else have a piece of your heart. I will fight for you until my last breath.’

Chapter 17

MIA

Iopened my eyes to Lorenzo propped on his elbow, gazing down at me, framed by the sunlight streaming in the window.

I reached a hand to trace his jaw.

‘Hey.’

‘Bella.’

He leaned in, stroking my hair from my face as he gave me a long, gentle kiss.

I curved into his muscular body, nestling into his sinewed length.

His cock stirred as our embrace deepened, echoing the growing wetness between my thighs.

With a rumble, he moved away, panting.

‘I’d continue this, baby, but it’s already 9 a.m., and I have a fucking crazy day ahead of me.’

I inhaled. ‘I have an online class at 11.’

‘Then we’d better get our act together,’ he rasped.

His heat left me as he rose, moving with panther-like grace. His eyes never left mine as he led me to his bathroom.

We showered, exchanging heated glances and occasional kisses under hot running water before I ran from his arms and his room with only a towel to track down clean clothes in my designated guest room.

I found him downstairs in the kitchen, dressed in an elegant tee, an unstructured linen jacket with patch pockets, slim-fit pants, and leather sneakers like he’d stepped out of an Italian Men’s GQ page.

I was in velvet sweats and a gym top. Winning.

Breakfast was simple yet delicious: eggs, broccolini on sourdough, as he liked it, and coffee, black and piping hot.

We ate in silence, relishing each other’s presence, hands brushing, lips touching, fingers shaking any chance we got.

When our plates were clear, Lorenzo stood, his eyes far off, his mind shifting to work matters.

He returned to me, a thoughtful expression on his face.

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