Page 33 of Prideful Union
“I don’t like that in a woman,” I repeat, mocking him. “You sound ridiculous, Santino. A confident woman is the best. You know what you’re getting.”
“And what’s that?”
I shimmy some more. “No mystery. I’m an open book. I wanted this marriage to work, you know. I had such an open mind about meeting you. But you just stomped all over that. I don’t get it. Why are you like this? Why can’t you just accept me for me? If you did, I’m sure we’d get along.”
He somehow manages to frown deeper. Why does he still look hot when he does it? “And why can’t you just accept me for me?”
“Because you constantly insult me. It’s like you’re trying to tear my confidence down, but I won’t let you. So, either join me and dance, or stand and watch. But either way, don’t insult me. I’m not in the mood for it today.” I stretch my arms above my head, exposing my midriff. Santino looks at my stomach before his eyes flit up to my face.
I know he desires me. The truth is, from a physical standpoint, I desire him, too. He’s honestly the hottest man I’ve ever seen. My body desperately wants him. But I don’t want him. Not until he ditches the asshole attitude he’s always carrying around with him.
“What are you in the mood for, then?” His voice has taken on a huskier quality.
Goosebumps break out across my skin. “I’m in the mood to see you smile.”
I can tell what I said takes him aback. “I smile.”
“When?” I challenge. “When’s the last time you smiled? Because I haven’t seen you smile once since we met.”
“You just have to get it out of me. Become worthy of it.”
“Why am I not already worthy?” I purposefully run my hands over my body, and Santino’s eyes follow the motion.
“You have to earn my affection.”
I saunter over to him. “I don’t have to earn anything. It’s you who has to earn me.”
“A challenge, then?”
Our bodies are so close. Only a few inches separate us. I could just stand on my tiptoes and kiss him right here and now. I’ve craved it ever since the kiss in my bedroom.
But I refuse to give in to Santino.
I back away from him, dancing as I go. He looks smug as he leans against the wall. I continue to sashay around the room, throwing him glances every now and then. I smile dramatically and laugh dramatically and dance dramatically.
When I look back at Santino, I catch the barest hint of a smile.
I stop. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
I point at his face. “That smile. You smiled.”
“Did I?”
“For just a fraction of a moment, I saw you smile. And you said I had to earn it.”
“I guess your ridiculous dance moves made up for it.”
“Ridiculous? I’ll have you know, Mr. Ricci, my dance moves are superb.” I spin around in a circle, trying to aim for the perfect balance of elegance and showmanship.
But instead of any of that, my foot bumps against the couch, and I stumble. In the movement, I can’t stop myself. I’m falling toward the ground.
But instead of pain, there’s nothing. Because Santino is holding me.
I’m bent backward, clutching his arms. God, his arms are so muscular. He’s looking intently into my eyes with his stunning blue ones. For the first time since I’ve met Santino, I feel like he’s my prince charming.
We each take a breath …
