Page 93 of Dangerous King
But it's not, not really. The spell is broken. The real world is back, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.
"I'm just going to take a shower," I mumble, brushing past him.
He doesn't stop me, but I feel the weight of his gaze on my back the whole way to the bathroom. Inside, I shut the door, lean against it for a breath, then take stock.
The bathroom is as perfect as the rest of the suite, marble and glass, and luxury everywhere. On the counter, a second toothbrush, still in its packaging, sits next to a tiny, complimentary tube of toothpaste.
I brush my teeth first, taking time with the small, normal act. Then I step into the shower and let the warm water sluice over me. It stings at first. Everything between my thighs is tender. Overused. Claimed. The thoughts bring a smile to my face. I'mglad he was my first. I will always have that memory. I will always cherish it, just like I will never regret it.
The soreness is a physical memory of everything we shared last night. The way he held me. The way he made me feel wanted, desired,his.I run my fingers gently over my skin, a little bruised, a little raw, and so full of things I can't say aloud. I'm not ready to name them yet. But they're there.
No matter what happens today… I'll carry last night with me. Always.
I step out of the shower wrapped in a thick white towel, hair dripping, cheeks pink from both heat and what I'm about to face. My feet barely touch the carpet in the bedroom before I freeze at the sight of Enrico, partially dressed, standing by the bed. Folding. The. Sheet.
The one with the evidence of what happened between us last night.
My mouth dries instantly.
"What… what are you doing?" My voice comes out higher than I intend.
He glances over his shoulder, completely calm. Too calm. "Just folding it."
I narrow my eyes, one hand tightening around my towel. "Why?"
A slow, sinful smile spreads across his face. "I'm going to hang it high from the rooftops,Piccolina. So the whole world knows you're mine."
"Oh hell no." I breathe, not even realizing that I cursed, yet again.
I surge forward, nearly tripping over a forgotten shoe. "You willnot!Give me that—Enrico—Enrico!"
He laughs, holding the sheet away like I'm some tiny, yapping dog trying to reach it. It's unfair how good he looks like this, shirtless, smug, muscles flexing with every effortless motion. The sheet dangles from one fist like a flag of victory—aliteral victory banner.
"Stop laughing!" I demand, yanking at the fabric. "This is not funny!"
"It's a little funny," he says, unrepentant.
"I swear, if you try to show this to anyone?—"
"Who would I show it to?" He muses, eyes glinting with mischief. "My mother? The staff? Your father?"
I make an unholy noise of embarrassment and slap his arm. "You're the devil."
"Possibly," he concedes. "But I'm the devil who made you scream his name, remember?"
My mouth drops open. My cheeks practically combust. "Enrico!"
He just smirks and tucks the sheet under his arm like it's priceless cargo. "Relax, Piccolina. I'll burn it if it'll make you feel better."
"Yes,burn it!" I jab a finger at him. "Immediately. And salt the ashes."
He chuckles again, deep and pleased, and leans in to steal a kiss from my still-flushed face. "You're even cuter when you're panicking."
I grumble something in Italian that might be another curse, I'm taking the fifth on that, because… it seems it's becoming second nature to me. He winks like he enjoys it. And I realize—somewhere between the horror and the heat—I'm smiling.
Enrico finally sets the sheet aside—mercifully out of sight—and wraps his arms around me from behind. I should still be scolding him, but instead, I find myself melting into his touch. His bare chest is warm against my back, his arms strong and possessive like they were made to hold me.
"You drive me insane," I mutter, tilting my head as he nuzzles behind my ear.
