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“I’m glad you are,” I whispered, turning my head to press a kiss on his neck. God, he smelled good. Even with this crazy eucalyptus bath scent, he still smelled like him. Sandalwood and spice.

We stayed in the bath for another few minutes before we both started to get antsy. Together we climbed out of the tub, and he wrapped me in the towel first. Then he sat me on the counter before he wrapped a towel around his waist.

A regretful sigh left me, while amusement entered his eyes. “What?”

“I love seeing you naked.”

He laughed. A warm, deep laugh that was so sexy it had my toes curling with happiness.

“I love seeing you naked more,” he responded. My cheeks turned red but I made no move to discard the towel. I wasn’t shy but I wasn’t exactly walking around the penthouse naked type either.

So I sat on the counter, while he stood in front of the sink and started to apply shaving cream to his face. I leaned back on my hands and watched his sure movements. His muscles gracefully moved with each motion.

“Want me to help you?” I offered and surprise flickered in his eyes. When he didn’t refuse, I tugged him gently to me, then placed my legs on either side of him. He handed me the razor and I leaned closer to him, putting the blade to his throat. He tensed. “Don’t worry, Alessandro. I like your throat and pulse too much to let anything happen to you.”

A corner of his lips lifted.

“That’s comforting,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. He didn’t look worried so I started to shave him.

“I like your stubble,” I mumbled as I gently pulled the razor down his jaw. “Gives you a bad boy vibe.” I repeated the movement, my eyes focused on the task at hand and careful not to cut him.

“I don’t like to see the marks my stubble leaves on your skin.”

My movement stopped and my eyes flicked up. “It leaves a mark?”

“Yes, red marks. Like someone hurt you.”

I resumed shaving him, my brows furrowed. “You bit me on my shoulder. That leaves a mark, not your stubble.”

“I bit you to mark you, so everyone knows it’s me fucking you and not to touch you. That’s different.”

My lips tugged up. “You don’t have to mark me. It’s not like I’ll be running to another man.”

“If you do, he’s a dead man.”

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was I loved his possessiveness.

“Your tattoos, do they mean something?” I asked, changing the subject. His breathing stilled for a second before resuming. “Looks like a lion and a crown.” My fingers trailed down to his navel area. A tattoo of a skull with eagle wings.

I wanted to ask him about the scars, but I didn’t want to bring up any painful memories. So I stuck to the ink, and if he wanted to tell me, he would.

“It is.” I never stopped my movement, but my heart paused its beat, waiting. “A lion will tear down enemies who wear the crown. He’s the king of the jungle, but he’ll always worship his lioness.”

I wanted to be his lioness, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. Not to him.

“Are you the lion?” I questioned instead.

He shrugged.

“Who wears the crown?” I asked softly. He remained quiet, but the tension in his muscles didn’t escape me. My first guess would be maybe he had something against his father’s ruling, but I couldn’t be sure. “Do you want to wear the crown?”

“Not really.” I believed him.

“And the skull?” I murmured, tracing it with my fingers.

“Represents death.”

“You have a lot of enemies?”