Page 34 of Craving Danger

After spending time away from the office so I didn’t have to interact with Samantha, I knew tonight might be uncomfortable.

But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s brutal.

All I want to do is hold her. The fucking urge is driving me insane.

I link my fingers again and rest my hands on my lap while I tell her about my parents.

When Dad had the stroke, I had no choice but to take over as the leader of the Vitale family.

Christ, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. People looked to me to run the business even though I had no fucking idea what I was doing.

“Were you close with your dad?” Samantha asks.

“Not really. I was seventeen and at a stage in my life where I didn’t agree with anything my father said or did. Looking back now, I wish I had listened to him.”

“Don’t we all,” she chuckles. “I argued with my mom about everything when I was a teenager.”

Wanting to keep the conversation flowing, I ask, “What kind of tattoo do you want to get?”

I feel her arm brush against mine as she shifts a little. “I was thinking of bricks or blocks with some shading and a flower growing out of it.”

When I glance at her, it’s to find her looking at me.

She scrunches her nose and turns her gaze to her lap. “It means something good can grow in harsh conditions.”

“I think it will suit you.”

“Yeah?” Her gaze flits to mine again. “I also want to add the words ‘stronger than ever’ so it looks like graffiti on the bricks.”

“The words definitely describe you.” Knowing she might have a problem with the tattoo artist, I say, “The guy who did my tattoos is a friend. If you want, I can be there so you’re not alone with him.”

Her teeth tug at her bottom lip before she asks, “There isn’t a woman who can do the tattoo?”

I shake my head. “I can ask around and see if I can find a different place for you?”

Letting out a sigh, she glances down again. “Will you be okay sitting with me?”

“Of course.”

She nods, and while she nervously tugs at the seam of her shirt, she whispers, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Samantha turns her head, and I watch as she stares at my hands. Slowly, I unlink my fingers and lay my hand palm up on my thigh.

‘Take my hand,’I silently encourage her.

She keeps staring, and as the seconds pass, a weird tension fills my chest. Christ, I’ve never felt such a desperation to touch a woman.

She shifts her hand to her thigh, and another few seconds tick by before she reaches for me and places her palm on mine.

The simple touch sends one hell of an electric bolt up my arm.

The air around us feels charged as I slowly weave my fingers with hers.

For a moment, I forget who I am.

I forget Samantha’s my assistant.

While we both stare at our joined hands, I’m amazed by the emotions Samantha’s touch stirs in my chest. Pride, protectiveness, empathy – but mostly the attraction I felt for her when she first started as my PA comes back in full force.

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