Page 149 of Sins of the Orchid
I’d never sleep in this house. And definitely not in this room. No fucking way. I’d imagine Santino thrusting into me, or him jerking off in the shower… No freaking way!
He walked by me and then paused at the doorway. “Not until you are married.”
I blinked, confusion in my eyes. Why would Adriano send me up here knowing his brother was here? And in the shower for God’s sake.
Santi disappeared into the bedroom, and I could hear him moving around. I wanted to shut myself in this bathroom, but Adriano waited for me downstairs. Yet if I followed Santi into the room, he might be naked.
My skin was tight and hot, my summer dress suddenly too heavy against my flesh. I could still remember how his hands felt on my skin and every fiber of me shook with need. This was how withdrawal felt, aching need for something you knew you couldn’t have. Or shouldn’t have. Another heartbeat, I steeled my spine and left the bathroom, rushing out of the bedroom without a glance at Santi.
Curse that man!There was no way I could ever come into this room and not picture him.
I rushed down the stairs in search of Adriano. Even if I married the wrong brother, I’d never live here. Ever! Even if my life depended on it. This place was Santi’s… I’d see him everywhere. And that shower scene. Oh my freaking God! I could not unsee that. Would I even want to?
“Adriano?” I called out. The only voice I heard back was my own. “Adriano,” I tried again, agitation lacing my voice and my nerves. If he left me without a word, I’d be majorly pissed.
I peeked into a large formal living room. Nothing. Large ballroom. Nothing. Dining room, kitchen.
He left, my instincts were practically shouting at me.He fucking left.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered. “Fucking bullshit.”
A familiar deep chuckle came from behind me and I whipped around, coming face-to-face with Santi. Again.
“What’s the matter, Amore?” Santi’s voice was a deep timbre soaking through my skin and into my bloodstream. He stood so close; I could smell his fresh, familiar scent. “I thought you enjoyed that little show in the bedroom. After all, you snuck in there.”
Santino would be the death of me.
My cheeks burned hot. The audacity of this man! But he was right. I fucking enjoyed it. I loved sex with him. I went on dates with other men and just their kiss on my hand sent creepy sensations down my spine. Santi had ruined me.
My eyes traveled over his body. He wore dark jeans that hugged his strong, muscular legs just right and a white t-shirt along with black combat boots. He looked good in anything and nothing.
And that right arm, covered in ink, would forever be so fucking sexy in my eyes. I still remembered how our hands looked tangled together. His inked, olive tan skin against my pale one. How he’d bend me over the bed or couch, his forearms paralleled with mine, his hands clutching mine as he thrust hard into me.
The sweet spot between my thighs ached with need. It has been two months since I felt him inside me, since I had any man’s hands on me, touching me. Yet it felt like two centuries without him.
His eyes burned, stirring the hunger for him in the pit of my belly.
“Where is Adriano?” I asked to break the unspoken lust sizzling between us.
He took a step closer. “I guess he left,” he said.
My heart thundered so hard my ribs ached from the impact. There was only so much strength I had. If he touched me, I’d cave. I knew I would. He was already too close, his body an inch from mine. My skin tingled with recognition at his heat, demanding I lean into him and get my relief.
“What are you wearing, Amore?” Santi’s question surprised me, and I looked down then instantly blushed crimson.
Stupid!
I wore the summer dress he bought me in Italy. It was vintage style with thick shoulder straps, snug against my upper body and flared down to my knees. It was his favorite color, green with large white polka dots. He joked that I reminded him of classic Hollywood movie stars.
“It’s just a dress,” I muttered. “Anyhow, I should go.” Yet, I remained standing. I could blame it on his dark expression, the clear demand in his eyes. I was never very good with orders, but with Santi, it was a thrilling and exciting event.
“Don’t,” I breathed out.
He seemed to consider the word for a second. Just as I went to sidestep him, he yanked me to his body, his mouth crushing against mine. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. It was rough, possessive and so… Santi. Nobody kissed like Santi.
My lips parted on their own, inviting his warm tongue into my mouth. His hand came to grip the base of my neck, holding me immobile.
I raised my palms with every intent to push him away, instead I pulled him closer as my fingers dug into his shoulders. He shifted forward, pressing my body hard against his. His rock-hard muscles felt good as I melted into his rough embrace.
