Page 167 of Sinful Lies

“See?” He whispered. “You’re already warming up to the idea.”

I huffed out a laugh, my pulse still unsteady.

Grabbing my bag, I dropped it onto the kitchen stool and turned to face him, already preparing some sharp remarks—only to lose my train of thought entirely.

He stood there, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black pants that clung to his hips in a way that should’ve been illegal.

He was barefoot, with water droplets clinging to his still-damp hair, falling in lazy trails down his temples and cheeks. The soft curls were messier than usual, as though he’d barely run a hand through them after his shower.

And that V.The sharp cut of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband. The faint trail of dark hair leading my gaze exactly where it shouldn’t go.

Life’s unfair. Completely, brutally unfair.

I pressed my palms against his chest. Rising onto my toes, I captured his lips, kissing him with a desperation I couldn’t seem to suppress.

This man. This annoying, beautiful,addictiveman.

He was going to be the end of me.

The universe must really get a kick out of watching me suffer.

His hand slid to the back of my neck.

His tongue brushed mine and the stupid butterflies I swore I didn’t have for him?

Yeah, they were staging a coup. Between my legs.

“Buongiorno,amore,” he murmured against my lips.

“Hi,” I whispered back, my voice embarrassingly soft.

I pulled away before I could embarrass myself further, turning to the sink like I had a purpose. Opening one cabinet, then another, pretending to look for a glass when really, I was just stalling.

When I finally found one, I filled it, stared at it for a second, and then left it untouched on the counter.

His gaze scorched my back.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” I said, turning to face him, crossing my arms like I was trying to protect what little dignity I had left. “And you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow, measured step toward me.

Then another.

By the time he stopped, he was close.Soclose.

His hands gripped the edge of the sink on either side of me, caging me in.

I tilted my head up, my heart hammering against my ribs. His nose brushed mine before his lips found me again—this time softer, slower, leaving me aching for more.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, too quickly, and way too unconvincingly.

“Jade,” he said, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear now. “I’ve known you for six years. Do you really think I can’t tell when something’s off?”

I exhaled shakily. “I’m just stressed about tonight. It’s the first time we’re hosting a ball, and?—”

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