Page 37 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

She just laughs, sauntering out with the smugness of someone who knows exactly the chaos she’s left behind.

Once the door clicks shut, I turn and find Alessio watching me with a lazy amusement that makes my skin itch.

He has one brow raised. “Jealous?”

“Of what? Watching you flirt with anything with a pulse? Please.”

He moves closer, not touching, just hovering near enough to short-circuit my nervous system. “You’re cute when you lie to yourself,dolcezza.”

And then he walks away, leaving me breathless, fuming... and far too aware of every inch of my body.

***

I can’t sleep. Just toss and turn in bed, limbs tangled in too-hot sheets, my brain refusing to shut the hell up.

Alessio’s voice still echoes in my head, like he’s in here with me, grinning, smug, cocky.You’re cute when you lie to yourself,dolcezza.

And worse?

He’s right. I am lying. To everyone. Especially myself.

Because every time I close my eyes, I see his face. The teasing lift of his eyebrow. The way he looked at Halie... and then at me. That damn confidence that makes me want to throat-punch him and climb him at the same time.

I flip onto my back with a frustrated sigh, the cotton of my tank top riding up my stomach.

My body is on edge. Humming. Hungry.

God, I hate this.

I try to think of anything else. Emails, deadlines, Bratva threats.

But it all dissolves into one thing:him.

The smirk on his lips. The heat in his eyes. The way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing just enough to keep me sleepless and stupid.

I squeeze my thighs together, as if that’ll help.

It doesn’t. Not even close.

My fingers ghost over my exposed mid-section, then just above bottoms. Grazing slow and tentative at first.

The images keep coming.

Alessio above me, skin hot and hard against mine. His hand tangled in my hair, lips dragging over my throat, teasing, owning. The rough edge in his voice when he growls my name. The way his thumb traces my hip, brushing the butterfly tattoo he never got to finish discovering that night.

My hand slips under the waistband of my panties, and I let out a soft breath as my fingers find the ache.

I circle slowly, eyes shut, thighs parting further as my hips begin to move.

I bite down on a moan, remembering how it felt when he touched me there.

God, his hands, big and rough, the kind that make you feel delicate even when you’re not, knowing exactly how to unravel me.

His mouth everywhere at once.

That dirty whisper against my ear. “You want it rough, don’t you, baby?”

I close my eyes and let the memory pull me under.

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