Page 72 of Assassin's Obsession

With his propensity for covering them, I would expect Angelo's hands to be pale. But they aren't. He has the swarthy complexion a lot of people identify with Sicilians. Only, just like the rest of Italy and Europe, Sicilians run the gamut from pale as marble to looking like they have a perpetual tan.

Like Angelo.

My skin prickles with the need to be touched by those hands.

"The way you're looking at me is not helping my self-control," he grits out and shoves his black knit boxers down his legs.

My breath catches as his large, veiny cock springs upward to curve toward his stomach.

I may not have had sex before, but I've seen enough blowjobs given in the public areas of the club to know he's bigger than average and the level of rigidness is not normal.

"Are you always that turned on when I dance?" I can't help asking.

"Sometimes."

"Why not all the time?" pops out before I have a chance to stop it.

"Some nights you look tired, and I want you to be able to go home and rest, but I know you won't."

Even though I'm almost naked and undulating on a pole, seeing me work when I'm tired does not turn him on. That should not hit me as hard in the feels as it does.

He squeezes the base of his hardon in what looks like a painful grip. "If you keep looking at me like that, we are never going to make it into the shower."

"You keep saying that like it's a threat. You're the one who wants a shower so bad." But not without reason, I have to admit.

I'm crusted in dried sweat from all of the running and stress adrenaline.

The fact a guy like him is struggling so hard to keep his hands off me in this condition does more for my libido than a hundred punters chanting, "Take it off!"

He takes a step toward me, but stops, an inner war reflected in his stormy gray eyes. "I want to wash your hair."

I only have to glance at myself in the mirror that covers the entire wall behind the vanity to know why.

With a wry grimace, I put my hands up self-consciously to touch the matted tangles of my hair. "I'm nobody's fantasy right now."

I really should wash it and at least try to get the tangles out. If I don't, mom will insist on using her homemade recipe for detangler and I'll end up smelling like apple cider vinegar.

Besides, there was blood on my face when I got here. Angelo cleaned it off, butI'llfeel better after washing my face, brushing my teeth and gargling with antiseptic mouthwash. Something I'm sure he keeps on hand.

"You are always my fantasy." He runs his hand up and down his erection. "Isn't that obvious?"

Swallowing to bring moisture to my suddenly dry throat, I nod.

Precum forms pearlescent beads on the tip of his erection and he spreads it over the hard column. "I want to wash every inch of your beautiful skin so I can lick it after."

A shudder works its way from the bottom of my feet up to the top of my head. "Sounds like fun."

"I think so too." He prowls another step nearer bringing the earthy scent of his body and arousal with him. "First my hands will get the privilege of touching you and then my tongue will get to taste you."

I'm 100% behind that plan. "I can't decide if I should make sure I'm freshly showered the next time we do this, or not, because both the touching and the tasting sound amazing."

Because no way is this a one off. I may not be able to wrap my head around whathethinks this is, but the feelings I have for him are too big to be satisfied with a single night, or day as the case may be, in his bed.

If only it were just the sex, that would be easier to figure out, but I like being around him and he's the only man I've ever known to make me feel safe.

Angelo reaches past me, his arm brushing against my breasts and I suck in a startled breath but I don't pull away.

"I'm only turning on the water,amate." He does something behind me and it sounds like raindrops start falling from the ceiling to patter against the tile floor at the bottom of the shower.

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