Page 108 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms, trying—needing—to regain control. If he didn’t calm himself, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And if he let go now, there would be no turning back.

“Give me one second.”

Angelo pushed off the ground, cursing under his breath as Allison let out a frustrated whimper. He hated leaving her like that—needy, desperate, and soaking wet for him. Well, no, that was a lie. He loved it. Loved knowing she was upstairs, naked and spread out, her body aching for him, waiting for his touch, begging him to—

I need to get it together or I’ll come in my pants.

He was dangerously close to losing control already, and if he didn’t hurry, he might embarrass himself before he even touched her again. He rushed downstairs, each step faster than the last, desperate to deal with her brother and get back to what he truly craved.

“John!” he called out, scanning the living room, the kitchen, anywhere the man might be lurking. Angelo’s gaze flickered from corner to corner, searching for the one obstacle keeping him from the woman he lov—

No. The woman I want,he corrected himself, swallowing down the intrusive thought. But it gnawed at him, taunting him from the back of his mind.

What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t supposed to be thinking this way. Love? That wasn’t even on the table, not for him. He knew love—but only the kind that was real, unconditional, the type you got from family. His dad, his sister, even his mom in her better moments. That kind of love had no agenda.

Then there was the other kind. The false, shallow affection he’d received from women in his past. Women who wanted his money, his name, his body. He’d seen through all of it, never giving more than was necessary, keeping his heart locked away. That was how he survived; by staying unattached.

But Allison…

The idea of her waiting for him at the end of a long day, smiling up at him with those bright jade eyes, the thought of coming home to her, of trusting her with his heart, of maybe even building a future together—adaughter?

Damn it, Angelo, not now.

He couldn’t go down that road. Not when Allison Pink Lockwood was lying upstairs in his bed, waiting for him.

He found John in the kitchen, thank God. The man was meticulously stacking pink mugs, muttering something to himself as Angelo approached.

The sight made him pause. In the short time they’d been upstairs, John had apparently emptied nearly every box. Each one was now flattened and neatly stacked in the corner, like some twisted game of organizational Tetris.

What the hell?

“John,” Angelo called out, keeping his voice even, though his patience was razor-thin. He didn’t have time for small talk orwhatever the hell this was. He needed to get back upstairs to her. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Johnathan glanced over, his expression flat, as if this wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world. He turned back to his cups, adjusting them as if they were fine china instead.

Fucking psychopath, Angelo thought, but bit his tongue.

He just needed to wrap this up, fast, before his sanity—or his self-control—snapped.

Only two boxes remained for him and Allison to deal with later. Under normal circumstances, Angelo might have felt guilty that Johnathan had done nearly all the work himself. But guilt was the furthest thing from his mind when the sexiest woman alive was upstairs, waiting for him to devour her.

Johnathan looked up at him, his face twisted in disgust as Angelo awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to discreetly shield his very obvious arousal.

“Don’t even bother, man,” Johnathan said, waving him off. “I don’t need the mental image of whatever the hell you’re about to do.” He shuddered, visibly disturbed, and Angelo couldn’t help but sympathize.

If the roles were reversed—if he’d walked in on one of his sister’s hookups back in her wilder days he’d feel the same. Hell, hehadfelt the same. Many times.

“Just let me finish putting these away,” Johnathan said, turning back to the last of the pink cups. “No need to show me out.”

Angelo nodded, still trying to shift his focus away from Allison and failing miserably. His pants were uncomfortably tight, his thoughts spiraling back to her over and over. She was upstairs, probably dripping and panting for him.

Get it together, man,he thought, desperately searching for something to say, anything to salvage a shred of normalcy. It was kind of impressive, actually—he and Johnathan had onlyrecently started to get along, and it felt good to have that connection. Someone who understood the pressure of running a business, someone with his own empire to manage. He didn’t want to ruin that.

But no words came, nothing appropriate or calm enough for the situation. So instead, he turned on his heel, making a mental note to thank Johnathan later in a way that didn’t involve words. A new watch, maybe. Swiss-made, engraved with his name, something classic and gold. That would smooth things over, right?

Now’s not the time for that.

As Angelo climbed the stairs, he forced his thoughts back to Allison, anticipation flooding his system. The tension was electric, tightening every nerve in his body as he got closer to her.

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