Page 46 of King of Obsession

He stood waiting, expectant.

‘Cleo?’

‘Of course,’ I replied.

He sat back on the sofa as I leaned in and re-tied the rudimentary brace, stretching the two reinforced elastic straps on the upper arm, across his chest, and under his other arm to provide extra support for the shoulder and give him more unrestricted movement.

‘You’re good now,’ I soon announced.

‘Bene,’ he grunted, moving past me with the deliberate care of a man who respected his body’s limits.

As he did so, the air around us shifted, carrying with it the essence of his skin—a blend of heady cologne and an indefinable spice that was so him. It came off him in waves, a musk that seemed to settle over my senses and leave me disarmed.

To avoid him, I canted away from him, albeit too fast, and he paused, a smirk on his face.

‘Don’t fret, woman,’ he growled. ‘When I touch you, it’s because you’ll be begging for it.’

I jolted at his crude estimation.

‘You’re so up yourself,’ I whispered.

He raked his eyes over me, lips twitching.

I took a ragged breath.

‘The only thing I want to be up in is you, carissima, drilling you deeper.’

He rasped the vulgar sentence, and I inhaled at his moxie,my response tumbling out unbidden. ‘You going to do what?’

He bent his head, drew his mouth parallel to my ear, and drawled into it. ‘Up you, in you, balls deep.’

The undertone, raw, sultry, shredded me on the inside and sent ecstasy through every fiber of my being.

I struggled not to fumble my outrage. ‘In your wildest dreams.’

He pulled back, the whisper of his breath playing on my skin. ‘See? It’s intriguing, no? Pensaci. Dream on it.’

He straightened with a lionizing gaze, his mouth curling, eyes predatory like a hunter’s.

‘Never.’

The unholy nerve.

I sliced my eyes away from his colossal frame, biting my lip to stop hissing at the jolt between us.

Italian men were bold as brass, but Alessio took the cake. His balls had to be coated in freakin’ gold and diamonds.

He huffed, leonine eyes gleaming in triumph as he stalked off.

Leaving me sopping wet, nipples throbbing.

The sensation wasn’t just physical; it was as if his presence was shattering my control, dismantling the walls I’d built over the years.

He was raw and aggressive, with a bullish sensuality that reached out and wrapped itself around the stony resolve I prided myself on.

His scent lingered where he’d passed, and I hissed, drawing it in.

Damn, he was a portrait of male beauty as he made his way to the kitchen, the fabric of his jeans hugging him in all the right places. He walked with stealthed grace, silent, raptorial,the kind of energy that slayed.

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