Page 21 of His to Possess

With a sultry look, I turn around and amble over to the lumpy couch. And, yeah, I may be strutting a little more than usual because I just kissed the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.

I’m officially obsessed.

And I don’t even know her damn name.

9

BLAKE

Angelo stays awake for exactly thirty minutes then drifts off to sleep. I’m not very surprised because he looks like the kind of guy who gets a good amount of sleep. No dark circles, no blemishes, no worry lines due to the fear that someone might be searching for him.

Even though someone is.

He doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. Just an easygoing, good time guy who all the girls probably love. And why wouldn’t they? He’s beyond gorgeous and must have a string of girlfriends.

It’s interesting to me that he belongs to a family with mafia ties, yet he doesn’t appear to be too deeply involved. Maybe it’s silly, but I always think of mafia men as broody, suit-wearing control freaks who carry a gun and aren’t afraid to use it.Kind of like me,I think. Except I try to stick to my stun gun and wear a leather jacket instead of a suit.

Angelo, on the other hand, could’ve just walked off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. Or, straight out of the ocean witha surfboard under his arm. He’s got that laid back attitude, seemingly not a care in the world, and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear him call someone “bro.” Or, wait. What’s the correct surfer lingo? Bra? I shove a hand through my hair and sigh, not remembering or really caring.

Currently, I’m sitting in a chair, my attention split between the front door, the side window and the dangerously attractive man sleeping on the couch. He is tempting me in ways that I’ve never been tempted before. Yet, I keep wavering. I’m loath to drag him deeper into my world by exposing myself any further than I already have. Keeping him safe is my first priority, not sleeping with him.

But, damn, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like being with a man like Angelo Rossi. My gaze drifts along his body, starting down at his feet which hang off the end of the couch. When we left the athletic club together, he quickly threw on a t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes. Right now, he’s stretched out, slumped down on the sofa, head tilted and resting on a pillow. His long legs are crossed at the ankles and I take a moment to study his big feet, knowing that the old adage is definitely true when it comes to this man. I felt his arousal when I momentarily lost my mind and started rubbing against him. And, it’s rather impressive. Okay, more than merely impressive. It’s huge—I saw him naked.

Immediately, my attention passes over the light dusting of dark hair on his legs and travels up, up, up, pausing on his groin. There’s no missing the bulge there and he’s not even hard. I can clearly picture the moment he turned around in the gym’s shower and gave me a full frontal view of his goods. Licking my lips, I force my eyes away, trying not to be a perverted creep.

Hell, I’m not sure I would even know what to do with all that. But, I’m a trooper and enjoy a good challenge. I’m sure I’d figure it out pretty fast.

His abs are flat and I remember the ridged six pack he sports.Mmm, delicious. Moving up his body, I take a moment to admire his firm chest, straining against the cotton of his t-shirt with every breath he takes. All that tanned skin. Thinking back, I don’t remember seeing any tan lines, so maybe he’s naturally this beautiful bronzed color.

Figures,I think and roll my eyes. Too perfect for words.

Then there’s his face. Good God, it belongs to a man who should be in movies. He’s so classically handsome and possesses high, chiseled cheekbones, an angular jaw exhibiting sexy stubble and a head of thick, dark hair. And, although his eyes are currently closed, I can easily picture their deep, swirling chocolate brown color.

With a soft sigh, I drag my gaze away and cross my legs in the opposite direction. He’s not even touching me and I’m getting worked up. There’s no denying the slickness between my thighs and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head. Or, at least trying to cool off a bit.

“What am I going to do with you?” I whisper softly.

A slight rattling snags my attention causing my eyes to pop open. My head whips over to the front door and my heart starts racing. I think someone just jiggled the handle, but it stopped so fast that I begin to second guess myself. Slowly, I stand up, reach for my jacket and pull it on. I quickly pat it down and make sure I have everything I need in my pockets.

After several long minutes, I release a slow breath. I must’ve imagined it. Still I keep watching and move closer, head cocked, listening intently. When I’m within a couple feet of the door, the handle rattles.Oh, shit.

Spinning around, I silently race over to Angelo and give him a shake. His eyes pop open, briefly disoriented, and I raise a finger to my lips indicating for him to be quiet. Then I point to the door. “There’s someone out there,” I say in the lowest voice possible. “They’re trying to break in.”

Motioning for him to follow me, we hurry into the bedroom. Unlike the other safehouse, this one doesn’t have a fire escape right outside the window and I’m not liking our options—either jump onto the hard concrete below and risk breaking bones, or somehow make our way over to the ladder by crossing two balconies.

This isn’t good. But we don’t have any decent options. “I hope you can jump and climb,” I mutter.

“No problem,” he murmurs as I quietly slide the glass door open. We step out onto the narrow balcony and he immediately looks over the side.

“There’s a fire ladder over there,” I say, pointing to it. “We need to get over to it and climb up onto the roof.”

He nods, looking ready to go, and I feel strangely proud of him. I know he isn’t used to running for his life like this.

“Follow me,” I say, moving to the far side of the tiny balcony. He stays right with me, but then I hear him groan under his breath.

“That ladder is nowhere near us. How the hell are we supposed to reach it?” He’s looking around my shoulder, gauging thedistance to the ladder then peering over the edge of the balcony to the ground below again.

“Stop looking at the ground,” I tell him. “It’ll just freak you out.”

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