Page 51 of The Italian Reckoning
But it’s so fucking hot.He’sso fucking hot.
The thoughts don’t calm even as I climb into the shower and turn the spray on full. Is it because he’s a criminal? Physical attraction aside, what is it that’s so fucking alluring about Rocky? Maybe it’s the biker connection. I was already lusting after him when I didn’t know who he was so there definitely has to be some confusing transfer there, and I’m not exactly mad about it, but does this mean I’ve lost my biker? All my fantasies will be replaced with Rocky and if so, is that even a bad thing?
Soap pours down my body, washing away every phantom touch he left behind, every drop of fluid that lingers, and every kiss he pressed against my skin with praise.
Is he sexy because deep down, I get off on breaking the rules I set for myself? That really, I’m so strict in my life because allI care about is finding something or someone to break them for and then I’m just some crazy nymphomaniac?
I can’t decide. Nothing feels right. Everything feels like a useless theory that eventually circles back around to my being too weak to stand up for myself. All it took was some wine, some teasing, and a kiss and I fell into bed with Rocky like he wasn’t a wanted criminal.
But he saved my life.
Stepping out of the shower, I’m back to staring at my clean, fresh pink body in the mirror and my attention drifts down to the array of scars across my abdomen. There’s no hiding the fact that Rocky saw them, but he avoided them after my first flinch. Is this the true reason I can’t get him out of my mind?
Because biker or no biker, he’s saved my life multiple times. He’s the first man to touch me since that terrible night—the first man who hasn’t utterly repulsed me. Is that also because he saved me? Is that really my criteria now to withstand the touch of a man?
I can’t deny the connection because Rocky’s done it twice and just thinking about it gets me all hot under the collar again.
If I’d known him five years ago, maybe I wouldn’t be the tangled up mess I am now.
By the time I dry myself off and dress in dry clothes Rocky slipped into the bathroom when I wasn’t looking, I feel better. Outside, the morning sun fills the penthouse with a welcoming, golden light that forces me to squint through my glasses and make me wish I’d brought my shades.
“So,” I say, finding my voice when I locate Rocky in the lounge surrounded by an array of breakfast foods, “should we talk about it?”
“About what?” Rocky, dressed in jeans and a sexy henley, walks forward and presses a glass of orange juice into my hand.
“Last night?”
“Depends.” He turns back to the trays of food filled with bacon, sausage and an array of meats and breads, fruit bowls, yogurt, waffles and more. “Do youwantto talk about it or is this the morning after guilt surging up?”
“Guilt?”
He flashes me a smile. “You’re a cop. I’m a criminal. I’m not even the faceless biker anymore. If you’re about to tell me that last night was a mistake then I’ll respect your honesty.”
I should tell him that. Something deep inside me surges up with those exact words as if it’s my moral obligation to say exactly that, but I can’t get the words past my lips. Instead, I drown them in a mouthful of orange juice and shake my head.
“Maybe later.” Later, when my thoughts aren’t jumbled and I’m not distracted by how sexy the open collar of the henley makes him look, or when I’m not overwhelmed by the urge to reach across and pull him in for another kiss just so I can hear those sweet sounds he made earlier.
“Maybe later,” he repeats, sitting on the other side of the table. “Maybe we should do the important thing first.”
“Which is?”
Rocky picks up a black phone from the table and holds it out to me. “My forty-eight hours are up. So do your thing. Call the cops. I won’t stop you.”
22
ROCKY
“Thank you.” Sarah hesitates for a moment, then she accepts the phone and stands. “This is…?”
“Untraceable,” I clarify. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to call it in anonymously or if there is someone specific you need to talk to given you’ve known about the second body for two days.”
“Good thinking.” Sarah taps the phone lightly against her palm, then her lips curl into a soft smile when she glances at me and steps through to the other room.
I guess I’m not privy to whatever happens next. Probably for the best. Cops always seems to know when I’m around and up to no good.
With a plateful of breakfast spread out before me, my hunger fades as my own phone vibrates for the umpteenth time since I woke up. My father has been blowing up my phone all night with demands for my location, who I’m with, and where I get off thinking I can murder his own men without consequences.
I knew he’d work it out but I’d been hoping it would take him a little longer.
