Page 68 of My Italian Love Affair

She stiffens.

"It’s adorable," I continue. "Really."

"I -" she falters, shaking her head. "You -god, you’reinsufferable."

"Don’t act like you don’t love it."

She scowls, but as I move my head back slightly and fully drink her in, I note that her breathing has gone shallower, her pulse visibly fluttering against her throat.

I can’t help myself.

I lift a hand, brushing a knuckle along her jaw, watching her shiver at the contact.

"Say it," I murmur.

Her brows knit together.

"Say what?"

"Say you don’t feel this too."

She hesitates.

I see it - the second of doubt, the quick, subconscious dart of her tongue over her bottom lip, the way her shoulders tense like she’s gearing up for a fight.

"You’re ridiculous," she mutters.

I smirk, gently pushing her.

"Say. It."

She glares at me.

"This isnothing."

I lean in just a little more, until our nosesare almost brushing, until I can feel the heat of breath against my face.

"Then why are you shaking,cara mia?"

Her breath hitches, and I fuckingfeelit.

The way her chest rises against mine, the way her fingers twitch at her sides like she doesn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer.

I shift slightly, pressing just a little closer, just enough to brush my thigh against hers.

She exhales sharply, her fingers clenching into fists.

She’s right there. Right on the edge.

One little push, and I know she’ll fall.

My gaze flickers to her lips.

I should kiss her.

Fuck, Iwantto kiss her.

I want to press her into this wall and drag my teeth over her bottom lip until she moans for me, until she forgets whatever weak excuse she’s been telling herself about why this shouldn’t happen.

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