Page 110 of Dangerous King
Then I realize it's coming from the balcony. I freeze, and my heart kicks into overdrive. Shadow growls louder. The doors are still open. It's probably?—
Anotherscrape. My heart leaps into my throat as I spin toward the balcony and nearly die on the spot. Enrico is hauling himselfup over the iron railing. His flexing muscles give me a delicious rush, and his black shirt clings to him like a second skin. His hair's a little mussed, and his expression is focused on me, entirely unrepentant. Dio mio, I thought he was joking when he said to keep the balcony open.
We're three stories up.
"Are you insane?" I gasp, stumbling to the balcony doors, hands flying to my mouth. "I thought you were joking! I left thedooropen, you lunatic!"
He swings a leg over, then the other, and lands with silent grace, like this is something he does all the time.
"Enrico!"
He doesn't say a word. Just strides forward, hair windswept, shirt half-untucked, jaw shadowed, and eyes blazing. He looks like a pirate straight out of one of those old movies: dangerous, wind-blown, impossibly handsome.
So handsome, it steals the breath from my lungs. Then he grabs me around the waist and kisses me like the world is ending.
I gasp into his mouth. He is devouring me like he's starving. His hands are everywhere, my hips, my back, one sliding up into my damp hair, gripping, pulling me closer.
He tastes like scotch and salt and Enrico; he's addictive. When he finally lets me breathe, my lips are swollen, and I'm half-laughing, too breathless to scold any longer.
"Finally. I thought my dad was going to keep me hostage all night." He complains.
I press my hands to his chest, feeling the hard thump of his heart through the thin fabric. "And youclimbedthree stories?"
"I told you," he murmurs, brushing his mouth over mine again, "I'd scale heaven or hell to get to you."
I melt. Right there. Right into his arms, into his heat, into everything that is this impossible, dangerous, perfect man who makes the world fall away with a single kiss. He pulls back just enough to look at me. Really look at me. His eyes sweep over every inch, dark and intent.
"You look ravishing." His voice is so hoarse, it sends goosebumps down my spine.
But then something flickers in his expression. A shift. Not quite guilt, but close—concern, maybe. Sobered, certainly. His hand drifts down my back, gentler now. "Are you… sore?"
I nod with heating cheeks. "A bit."
His jaw clenches, and for a second, I think he's going to scold himself or me. Instead, he kisses my forehead, my temple, my cheek, each one softer than the last.
"I'll be good," he murmurs. "Tonight, I'll just hold you."
Oh hell—I'm getting too used to cursing—can he be any more perfect?
Out of nowhere, a black blur launches across the room.
"Shadow—wait!"
But it's too late.
The puppy charges, full tilt, and sinks his teeth into Enrico's calf with a growl that belongs to a much larger animal. There's a loudripas expensive fabric gives way beneath razor-sharp teeth.
"Merda!" Enrico snarls, jerking back, but the dog is latched on like a furry demon.
"Shadow!" I shout, grabbing his collar. "Let go! Let—Shadow, no!"
It takes everything I have to pry him off, twisting to wrestle him toward his crate. He's still growling, tail stiff, eyes locked on Enrico like he's the devil incarnate.
"In," I hiss, shoving the crate door closed. Shadow barks once, sharp and proud, like hewonsomething. I spin around, panting, and freeze.
Enrico's standing there, one hand braced on the wall, blood seeping through a jagged tear in his pants. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!"
He glares at the crate, jaw clenched, voice low and deadly. "There is somethinggenetically wrongwith that mutt."
