He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking, the tight pinch of her voice as if she was afraid of revealing too much. And yet, he wanted to know it all.
“Home,” he told her, “is where you are, Ana.”
He lowered his hand and took a tenuous step closer to her, drawing in a long breath of her scent.
“I’ve seen my brothers find their mates and I’ve seen their struggles, but I’ve also seen their joy. I’ve seen what mates can be, Ana… and I want to share that with you. Wherever you are, is where I want to be.”
“I have responsibilities here,” she spoke around her answer, her words like her steps, pacing along the line between them.
“So do I.” He saw the hesitation in her face. “I came back as the representative of my family,” he acknowledged that first, “but I knew what else I wanted when I returned to Santa Biago.”
“And what was that?” She turned and nailed him with a look. Emiliana set her hands on her hips and he saw the tantalizing view of her calves as she took a solid stance in the doorway. The nip of the hem on her pencil skirt held her knees close together, but he loved every inch of the seductive curve that her skirt traced along the outside of her thigh to her waist. From there he saw the wink of gold bracelets at her wrists, warmed by the sun-kissed tan of her skin.
His tongue was tied by his need for her.
He may have matured in many ways during the last ten years, but one glance at Ana and he was reduced to a baser man driven by the ruthless drive of his nature. His need.
There were pretty words he could have offered her. That was more like his brother Valerio, the most thoughtful of the three.
He could have lifted her into his arms and held her tightly to him, offering his strength. And yet, that was more Salvatore, the eldest of their family.
But pretty wasn’t what Ana needed. Nor was his strength. She was a Bruno and had plenty of that on her own.
Uberto was left to offer her all that he had left.
The truth.
“You.” He saw her eyes flare with anger, heard the deep indrawn breath that pressed her breasts against her blouse, making the contrast between her warm skin and the pristine white cotton even lovelier. “I will do whatever it takes to prove that I’m the match for you. Not just the one who knows how to worship your body.”
He heard a growl and felt a frisson of desire crawl over his skin.
A subtle shift of her body and the light caught the white flash of a fang against the fire-engine red of her lipstick.
“You’re magnificent.” He couldn’t help the breathless tone of his voice as it pulled from his throat. “Everything I need.”
“Put your priorities in order, Uberto. I have.” She tossed her head, and he saw the way the ends of her thick head of wavy hair swept about her shoulders. “Until then, the only way you’ll worship me, is in your dreams.”
She turned, drawing his attention to the tiny bows at the back of her shoes where they met the perfection of her flesh. She’d barely taken a step when he let go of a pent-up breath. “You’ve always been there, mia anima. You’ve always been in my dreams.”
She paused for a moment, a hesitation in her step.
And for one moment, he wondered if she would turn around, even to give him a look.
He was wrong.