Page 70 of Savage King

His green eyes scrutinize mine, and he stares down at me like he wants to see the bottom of my soul.

"As long as it's not yours, I don't care," I say, running my hand up and down his arm.

He leans forward and kisses me. "Scarlet, you are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I'm not sure about that, but I'm working on it."

His lips open like he's about to say something, but then he shakes his head. "Shower," he mumbles, like he needs to remind himself.

On his way to the bathroom, he notices the two suitcases and turns back to me, "You didn't like what Gigi got you?"

"Oh no, I love it! Thank you, by the way. I'm sure you had more important things on your mind?—"

He raises his hand, "Then why are they here?"

"What do you mean?" He's confusing me.

"There's an empty closet right there," he points at the largeHerswalk-in closet.

"I…" I'm not sure what to say. I didn't want to assume anything, so I kept all the things Gigi brought me in the suitcases, making sure not to leave a trace of my presence in the bathroom.

"Passerotta," he breaches the distance between us in a few steps and folds me into his arms, "I want you to feel at home here."

I still don't know what to say, so I just nod against his chest.

He lifts my chin with his knuckles, "I don't know how long you'll have to stay here, but for however long, I want you to be comfortable."

I swallow down a flood of tears threatening to flow out.I don't know how long you'll have to stay here, but for however long,his words play on repeat inside my head. Over and over. For a moment there, when he said he wanted me to move my things into the closet, I thought… I thought… silly stuff. Stupid things. Yes, this man is burrowing himself deeper inside me thananybody ever has, changing me, but that doesn't mean he wants me to move in with him. It's not even been a week yet.

"Okay," I choke out, managing to keep the tears down and the hurt from my face.

He tilts his head, scrutinizing me, but then his phone rings.

"Go ahead, take it," I tell him, glad over the interruption. The last thing I want is for him to see me crying.Over nothing, my mind reprimands.Even if you were dating him for real, you wouldn't be moving in with him after knowing him for a few days.

That actually makes me feel better. I have no idea why I'm being this emotional.

To the side of me, Antonio is speaking in rapid Italian to someone, so quickly that I only make out a few hissed words, likekeep an eye on him,report,andmorning. He hangs up and turns back to me, "Now, you were saying?"

"That you need a shower," I remind him.

"Alright, but first," he picks up both suitcases like they weigh nothing and takes them into the closet. I follow with a grin on my face.Maybe I'm not moving in today, but that doesn't mean I won't one day…

That thought entertains me long enough to give Antonio a few minutes in the shower, before I decide it’s a good time to let out the new Scarlet a little more and toss the new clothes from my body to the ground.

My heart picks up speed, and I amaze myself by walking buck naked into the large, walled-off shower. God, this man is a gift from God. For a moment, I hesitate, taking in the sight of him with his back to me. His black hair is wet and slicked back, andwater is running down his back, which is just as hard, muscled, and defined as this chest. I marvel at his delts and traps as they flex with his movements, before my eyes move to his glutes. Shit, I can feel my pussy getting wet. I take another step forward, then another, press my face against his back, and sling my arms around his front. Underneath my palms, I feel his pecs move over the increasing beat of his heart. I plant a kiss on his back, and his hands capture mine as he holds them tight for a few seconds.

"Passerotta," he rasps, turning to face me.

He takes a step back, pulling me under the spray. The splattering of the warm water on my skin makes it prickle. Being so close to Antonio already has all my nerve endings on edge, so much so that the water is like a hundred kisses caressing my skin.

His large hands frame my face as he pulls it up for a deep kiss. I moan into his mouth when his tongue entangles with mine. Raising on my tiptoes, I melt into his body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he groans as he trails kisses down my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine. He turns me around. Wet hands move over my wet body, cupping my breasts, and all there is, is him and me and the millions of sensations spreading through my body at every single one of his kisses and touches.

He moves the hair away from my neck and sucks on the tender skin until I'm nothing but putty. Gently, he takes my hands and places them against the tiled shower wall.

"Let me worship you, passerotta."

---