She could hear him moving now, the soft creak of the bed as he stood, but she still didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Not when her past—the part of her life she had worked so hard to separate from who she was with him—was looming between them again.It was like a dark cloud she couldn’t shake, always there, always pulling her back.
His footsteps were slow, careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal that might bolt. “Is that meant to be comforting or smug?” she asked quietly, the tension in her voice betraying the hurt underneath.
“Neither.” His response came from much closer than she expected, and she jumped, startled by how quietly he had closed the distance between them once more.
She let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Angelo said, stretching out the words as if giving her time to really hear him, “I don’t care who your family is, Allison. I just care aboutyou.”
The finality in his tone made her heart stutter. She turned then, slowly, as if unsure of what she’d see when she faced him. He was standing right behind her, towering over her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those intense, dark eyes—held her in place. The way he looked at her wasn’t just desire. It was more. It was certainty.
Her breath hitched, but before she could say anything, he broke the moment. “How about that shower?” His voice was lighter now, the sudden shift making her blink in confusion.
She stared at him for a second, trying to process the abrupt change in tone. He had a way of doing that, flipping the switch when things got too heavy. Desperately needing a break from the intensity of his gaze, she glanced down, nodding slightly.
“Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t about the shower. Not really. It was about everything else—the walls she had put up, the fear she had of being judged by the weight of her familyname, and the way Angelo kept tearing down those walls without even trying.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Angelo whispered, his voice low and reverent.
If Allison was honest with herself and she always tried to be—she had been feeling a little self-conscious earlier. But right now? This was seriously helping.
Fuck, earlier.
Just thirty minutes ago, Angelo had buried his face between her legs, teasing her until she was teetering on the edge, every touch and whispered word setting her ablaze. He had become wild, possessive—something that might have scared her a few of months ago. But these days she was enjoying it far too much to care.
Now, they were in his luxurious bathroom, sharing a steamy shower. Or more accurately, Angelo was showering her with soap and praise, likely just because he could.
“Yes, I’m sure my cellulite-filled ass is a great sight,” she teased.
Angelo swatted her backside, the sound echoing through the spacious bathroom, making her yelp. “None of that,” he growled, “Your ass is fucking perfect.” He grabbed a handful, squeezing as if laying a claim on her. “Trust me, I’ve stared at it enough to know.”
A soft, breathy sound escaped her lips. She would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t been between her legs just moments ago.
Thank God he can’t see me blushing right now.
“Is that how you spend your free time?” she quipped.
“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation.
She laughed. “Not sure if I should be flattered or creeped out.”
Angelo chuckled, and once again, she wished she could bottle that sound, savor it. It was refreshing.
When his hands left her body, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from begging him to touch her again. But before she could protest, he was back—this time, gently working his shampoo through her hair.
A deep moan escaped her lips. Angelo’s fingers tangled in her hair, massaging her scalp with a tenderness that felt downright glorious. It was ridiculous how turned on she was by something so simple. She wanted him to massage her somewhere else, because, seriously, this was getting her worked up.
I will never not get horny around this man, will I?
His fingers froze for a second when she moaned again, before he cleared his throat and continued. “So, about earlier…”
Allison let her head fall back, only to realize how close Angelo was. She leaned against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, his chin resting just above her head. She suddenly appreciated their height difference more than ever. Maybe she could reach back and touch his naked—
“Allison?” His voice snapped her out of her wandering thoughts.
She blinked, realizing Angelo had stopped lathering her hair and was now gently holding her shoulders.