Page 79 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
My gaze crawls upward, taking in a snug-fitting black shirt, thick and tan neck, and a jawline so sharp it could cut a steak. My breath escapes as I reach his eyes. They’re black from this angle and weighted down with the promise of possession.
“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I reply, breathily. “I was thinking about other things.”
Benito doesn’t budge and his hands remain firmly settled in the pockets of his slacks.
“What ‘other things’?”
The intensity in his eyes makes me blink away but that doesn’t stop a full flush of heat from crawling up my throat.
“Oh, you know…” I shrug. “Ice.” I could kick myself because that isn’t the word I had in my head.
I flick my gaze back to him nervously, and he’s chewing the inside of his cheek.
He lifts a curled fist to his lips. “Ice?”
I nod. “Mm-hm.”
“You likeice?”
“I do,” I reply.
“Interesting.” A glimmer of something squeezes through his narrowed eyes. “Howdo you like your ice?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze all sexy and distracting. He lifts a shoulder. “Do you like it crushed? Cubed? Or just, you know, as it comes?”
I swallow. My mouth and throat are so dry I’ll take any form of ice right now.
“Melting,” I say. “I like my ice melting.”
His eyes widen a fraction, then he nods. “Noted.”
My skin feels like a livewire, getting more charged the longer I stand here, so I smile and go to walk past him, but long fingers curl around my wrist pulling me to a halt at his shoulder.
His chin dips but his gaze remains on something in the distance. His voice rolls like a tropical thunderstorm. “You look like afuckinggoddess. Stay where I can see you.”
My entire body vibrates with his compliment, chased by the electric current of his command. I can’t find the words to respond so I simply nod once and feel his fingers slip from my skin.
As I walk to the restroom I have to cradle that hand in my other, purely to convince myself the skin he grazed wasn’t singed by the contact. My heart is fluttering so wildly that when I reach the restroom, lock the door and stare back at my reflection, I can’t remember why I’m standing over the faucet.
I cool my palms beneath the running water and press my fingertips to my temples. My pulse is racing and the base of my glistening collarbone rises and falls with every breath.
After a couple of minutes I walk back out to the terrace, allowing my gaze to search only for my family. When it settles on Allegra’s clenched brow I sigh with relief.
“Everything okay?” I ask her. “You look like you just swallowed detergent.”
“A large measure, I’d say,” Bambi mutters under her breath.
Allegra’s gaze darts to Cristiano’s second cousin Giulia and I pan my eyes toward Bambi.
“She just came over here asking what we think of her family residence,” Allegra hisses between pursed lips. “This place isn’t hers; it’s Cristiano’s.”
“Well, technically, it’s the Di Santo residence…” I start, clearly unappreciative of the nuances at play.
“Exactly. Which sheisn’t.”
“Isn’t she Cristiano’s cousin?” Bambi asks in a newly adopted, not unlikeable bored tone.
