Page 25 of Magic or Madness

He takes my hand, wrapping his muscular arms around me, and he looks down at me with a sweet smile on his face, using a finger to brush the hair away from my eyes.

“Sei Bellissima,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to understand.

“Sei perfetto,” I counter, biting my lip, and watching as his eyes light up in the darkness.

“You speak Italian?”

“A little. I spent a lot of time studying in high school,” I confess, and he laughs softly, a faint sparkle in his eye when he looks at me that I’d have missed if I weren’t paying attention.

“My little nerd,” he says proudly, leaning around me to turn on the lamp.

I slap his chest, and he lifts me off the ground, spinning me around until we reach the bed, his body collapsing onto mine, our faces inches apart. I can’t help but laugh, and his eyes arelocked onto mine, looking at me with pure adoration plastered on his face.

“I could listen to your laugh for the rest of my life, Bambi.” He kisses my forehead, a gentle touch of affection that I’ve grown accustomed to from him.

“I need to change out of these gross clothes,” I say against his chest, and he slowly lifts off me, helping me off the bed.

I feel his eyes on me as I carefully choose clothes from my dresser drawer, deciding on a cute set of pajamas.

“Do you want me to look away?” He steps closer, and I laugh, thinking he’s joking, but his face tells a different story.

“Uh, no, it’s okay. You saw everything already.” I giggle, but he abruptly takes my face in his hands, a more serious expression crossing his face.

“I’ll always make sure you’re comfortable with me, Fallon. If you want privacy when you’re changing, say the word. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen you naked,” he says, a fire lit behind those dark brown eyes.

His concern with my privacy is endearing, and it clearly means a lot to him that I feel safe, so I lean into it. There’s somethingseriously sexyabout a man who prioritizes consent and welcomes open communication.

“I know, Ozzy. Thank you, but I’m okay if you sneak peeks. You make me feel … beautiful when you look at me.” I slowly lift my work shirt off, lazily dropping it on the floor, and Ozzy’s eyes never leave mine.

He watches intently while I drag my finger across the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down my thighs. I carefully slip them over my ankles, leaving them in a pile with my discarded shirt.

I run my hands through my hair, standing in front of Ozzy in my bra, underwear, and the marks he left on my collarbone in plain sight. For the first time, his eyes break away from mine,gazing at his work, the red-purple love bites standing out in stark contrast to my pale skin.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing at my bra, and I allow him to reach around, giving him permission to make quick work of the clasp.

As he tosses it with the rest of my outfit, more marks reveal themselves on my breasts, and he trails his fingers along the places his mouth left tattoo kisses. He takes the pajamas from my hand, unfolding the light pink shirt, and pulling it over my head. The silky bottoms match, and Ozzy helps those over my thighs, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps on my skin.

I watch in awe as Ozzy rips off his shirt and jeans, standing in front of me in only his boxers. His thighs are just as toned as his chest, and his hair flows around his shoulders, encompassing the look of a God that I’m so smitten with.

“Lay with me, Bambi,” he whispers in my ear, leading us toward my bed.

I rest my head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his arms cradling me into a cocoon. Our legs tangle at the end of the bed, and I feel him placing soft kisses on the top of my head.

“When you hold me, it holds me together,” I whisper, unable to keep my thoughts from spilling out of my mouth.

“This is where you’re the safest,my beautiful girl,” he says sweetly, and my heart melts.

“Tell me about your day. Besides bringing me those gorgeous purple flowers.” I trail my fingers around his chest, drawing little circles and tracing his scars as I listen to his breathing.

“I almost cut Journey’s throat out of his body this morning,” he says calmly, and I twist upward to face him.

“What, why?” I ask, alarmed at the fact they’re supposed to be brothers.

“He commented on you. He thought it was funny to call you Cinderella. I had to make it clear that I’m the only one who calls you out of your name, but he kept pushing the line further and further,” he recalls, the tension in his body thick around me.

“You defended my honor to one of your brothers?” I repeat, making sure I understand correctly.

“Of course, Bambi. You’re mine, and they all know it now. Journey’s on borrowed time with me, though, for his disrespectful attitude,” he says sternly, his voice dripping with anger.

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