Page 55 of The Art of You

This wasn’t the plan.Walk on the beach to calm down and cool off, followed by a shower—thathad been the plan. Instead, I was a moment away from giving in to Bella.

But if I did, I’d be a selfish prick. I wouldn’t deserve her friendship or her brothers’. I’d inevitably lose her. And for that reason, I allowed the responsible part of my brain to take over.

I set my finger under her chin, urging her adorably parted lips to close. She’d either been stunned into silence at my words or the fact I admitted I had feelings for her.

Backing away from temptation, I grabbed my shirt from the bed, deciding to wait on the shower.

“Need help?” I was surprised she didn’t dig her heels in and push me to change my mind about the kiss. It wouldn’t take much to get me to bend to her will, and she had to know that.

“I’m fine.” I tried to put on the shirt and failed. “I don’t need this.” My frustration flared and I flung it on the bed. When Bella sidestepped me and bent forward for it, I didn’t stop myself from staring at her ass in those short shorts. Itwasn’t the distraction I should have been looking for, but it definitely took my mind off my arm.

“Probably not the best idea to remain shirtless.” She bunched the fabric between her hands, holding it between us like a security blanket.

“Right. Constantine.” I’d nearly shattered the promise I made to him just this morning—remaining only friends with his sister.

“You’re not worried about Enzo or Alessandro, are you?”

Her question was so innocent and soft that it took me a moment to realize she was right.

I’m not.“Constantine’s the one that thinks he’s your dad. Means I have two to deal with if I want . . .” Shit, where was I going with that? More importantly, why the hell did I just say that?

Her shocked brown eyes hit my face in record time. The littlehmmmnoise from her was a delayed reaction before she busied herself with fixing my shirt, adjusting it from the inside out. I hadn’t even noticed it’d been like that. “Surprised you got this off.”

“I was highly motivated. Needed that shower.”Still do. With you in it. Fuck.Time for one more step back.

“I don’t blame you after that filth I read online. I actually wanted to jump into the Atlantic, hoping the waves might wash it off me as well.” She gestured for me to come closer—such a bad idea—and bend my head forward.

With the shirt hanging around my neck, she shifted around to my side, helping my arms through the sleeves. I wasn’tthatincapable, but part of me didn’t mind letting her take care of me.

“Mission success. How’s the pain level?” She smoothed the fabric down over my abs, taking her time to allow her fingers to roam there. She definitely enjoyed torturingme.

“Tolerable,” I lied as our gazes connected, and I found myself walking forward.

She backed up against the wall.

Unable to stop myself, I nailed my forearm flat alongside her, drawing my body nearly flush to hers.

“Hmmm. And now your arm really has to be hurting up in that position.”

“Consider me highly motivated again to not care about the pain.”What am I doing, dammit?And yet, my other hand went to the wall, locking her between my arms. “You came here full of piss and vinegar, strutting around in those tiny shorts, looking to start trouble with me. You need a distraction. A little bit of tension relief in the form of an argument.” I left off the fact she wanted me to adjust both her attitudeandher hips by holding on to them while she rode my cock.

The immediate scrunch of her forehead was a definite yes.

I knew how much biting my head off for the silliest things helped relax her, and I’d always been willing to take one for the team.

“I’m tense and upset from what I read. I’m as angry as I assume you are. Hence your walk and need for a shower.ButI wasn’t looking for a fight, and you know it. I was looking for . . . a different kind of tension relief.”

She lowered her hands from my chest, and I quickly dropped my good arm to reach for her wrist, planting her palm back where it belonged. Right over my heart.

“I didn’t expect”—I dropped my gaze between us to where I held her—“you to want that tonight. Not with what you’ve learned about my past. I thought I’d find you wearing your go-to faded gray hoodie, holding a bottle of scotch, prepared to offer me your favorite teddy bear to try and talk me off the cliff.”

“What cliff?” She sounded both exasperatedand scared.

“A metaphorical one.” I frowned, once again peering at her. “Because I’m not just angry.”I’m slowly dying on the inside.

“And what are you?” she whispered. “What would make me want to wear my hoodie and give you Rugby?”

I didn’t give her an answer, unsure how or where to start.

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