Page 9 of Her UnBearable Protector

“You haven’t been in New York very long, have you?”

The question caught him off guard. “Nearly a decade,” he explained. “Valerio moved here nearly ten years ago and Uberto and I followed him the next year, once we had everything in order in Italy while we would be here.”

“So there’s three of you.”

“Yes.” He picked up a handle and clipped it on to the wire basket, turning when she gasped.

“So that’s what that clip-thing was for!” She looked up at him, her full lower lip nipped in between her teeth. When she released it on a laugh he ached to close the distance between them and sweep his tongue over the pale white line made by her teeth. “I told you, I don’t spend much time in the kitchen.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“To cook?” She laughed and her towel slipped free of her hair.

She made a frantic grasp for it, but he already had it in hand. By the time she realized what had happened she'd knocked the towel from his hand and covered his hand and forearm with her own. She left it there for a moment and he was glad that he'd chosen to roll his sleeves up to his elbows before starting dinner. The feel of her skin against his was incredible, heat without fire, and pleasure from the pain of longing.

The more time he spent with Natale, the more he knew that his instinct had been right. She was his mate, the only woman in existence who could complete him, tame his bear and make him a greater man with her love.

“I'd teach you.”

He saw the short indrawn breath that parted her lips. The narrowing of her eyes, and knew she'd heard the intent beneath his words. He’d teach her how to cook if it made her happy, but he was perfectly happy to cook for her. He’d teach her anything she wanted to know.

And if she wanted, he'd teach her how very precious and desired she was.

The boiling water in the pot roiled over the edge and landed on the burner, sending up a quick burst of steam between them.

“That might be a little overdone,” he explained, his voice deepening as his accent thickened, “you distracted me.”

The blush on her cheeks nearly reached her hairline. “Then we’re even,” she declared. “Today in the workroom, it was almost a losing battle to get my work done. With the staff drooling over you, I'm surprised we only had a half dozen injuries.”

His instinctual concern overrode his conscious thought and he moved closer.

She put a hand on his chest to hold him in place and the belt of her robe loosened, treating him to an enticing look at the creamy skin beneath the navy-blue terrycloth.

“Whoa there, cowboy.” She sighed. “It wasn't me. Do you see any cuts?” She held up her hands and turned them over in the air for him to see that she didn't have any bandages or blood visible. “One of the models turned a little too far around trying to get a look at you, for that she got a pin in her hip and the fitter stuck a pin through her own finger. You’re a dangerous man to have in my workroom.”

“And you were able to keep your focus on your work?”

“Sure!” Her tone was bright, but it was forced. He could hear the subtle hitch in her breathing, the slight elevation in her tone. She was teasing him, and the knowledge only brought him closer to the hunt. “I didn't notice you for a moment when you were across the room. And I definitely didn’t notice how your suit is perfectly tailored for you. I’ll have to take a peek inside later to see how they built it to fit so well.”

He pulled the basket from the boiling water and set it in a bowl of ice water in the sink. That brought him close enough that he pressed up against her side. It probably would have ended right there if she didn't turn to face him.

From his knees to his stomach he was pressed deliciously against her body.

Heat flared within him as he breathed her in, and the movement of his body against hers only spread the heat like a wildfire, flames licking against his skin.

“Goodness,” she sucked in a breath and he saw the tip of her tongue flick against her bottom lip before it retreated.

He wanted to taste her. Wanted to tangle his tongue with hers and draw her into his mouth.

With one hand, he moved the pan off of the burner and set a hand on the counter. “And when I'm this close?”

Her nervous laughter squeaked from her throat. “Well, that's not fair,” she swallowed and he felt his silent growl tremble through both of them.

He wanted to put his lips against her throat and taste her there too.

“You're right here,” she explained, “of course you're going to distract me now.”

“That's not enough.” He saw her eyes widen and he kept a smile at bay. He leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose, and turned slightly.

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