Page 48 of His Passerotta

I run my hand up her neck and tap her nose. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” With a wink, I grab the picture frame from Bailey’s hand. She gasps and reaches for it, but I bat her away before carefully setting it back in its place on the shelf.

“You’re very private for someone who rifled through my things just days ago,” I tease.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really feel like lying cuffed to your bed all day.”

“Mmm, but I was quite enjoying picturing it.”

Her smirk falls as her face reddens.

I laugh and shuffle to her couch. “It was a good thing you got the cuffs off. Lorenzo finding you would’ve been even more awkward than it was.” I plop down and pull the pillow from behind my back, giving it a once over before setting it beside me.

“He made me ruin the best damn butter chicken you would’ve ever had,” she says, following my lead and sitting with only the pillow to separate us.

“Well, you’ll just have to make it for me again.” I show my teeth, but she doesn’t return the smile. She has skepticism etched into every crevice of her face.

“What?” I ask, my tone light with amusement.

“Why are you flirting with me?”

My brain seems to freeze because I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Why am I flirting with her?

Does she not want that?

Shit.

“Umm…”

“I must’ve served you a dozen times at Freddy’s without you having any memory of me, and only a few days ago you considered killing me.”

“You kissed me since then,” I argue, although I see her point. She has no idea how many filthy thoughts I’ve had about her in the days since. No idea what that kiss did to me. “And if you’ll recall, I kissed you back.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“I didn’t know what your reasoning was for spying on my meeting when I considered killing you. Once I realized it truly was a misunderstanding, I promised not to hurt you, and I kept that promise.”

“And then you handcuffed me to your bed.”

“And I would love to do it again,” I say, unable to help myself when the imagery comes to mind.

She holds her neutral expression several seconds before a smile sparks. Dropping her gaze, she pulls the pillow between us into her lap, picking at the frayed edge.

“I like you, passerotta,” I say, laying my arm over the back of the couch. “Flirting is what people do when they like someone… Same with kissing.”

“People kiss for all kinds of reasons,” she retorts with a smile in her voice. “My adrenaline was through the roof. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I did.”

She looks over at me, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. I’ve been only teasing about the bedroom stuff, but when my eyes lock onto that lip, my cock hardens.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” she says.

I scoot her way with my brows raised, waiting for her to go on.

“Your white knight syndrome has me feeling like I owe you or something.”

“Oh, you do owe me.” I brush the back of her neck with my hand.

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