Page 43 of The Fixer

My cheeks feel hot.Stop looking at his cock,I scold myself.Stop wondering what touching it would feel like.

“I’m not in danger. The roof, on the other hand. . .”

I’m not the only one having difficulty keeping my eyes to myself. Leo’s gaze moves over my body slowly and appreciatively. I’m sure I look like a drenched rat, but he must not think so because when he looks at me, something intense flares in his eyes.

There’s a tingling in the pit of my stomach. Myheart jolts, and my pulse pounds. Desire keeps me rooted in place, a strong, crippling longing that only Leo can satisfy.

Just stop.

I make myself move. Grabbing the robe hanging on the back of the door, I toss it to him. He catches it, his expression puzzled, then appears to register his nakedness and puts it on. It’s ridiculously short on him. It barely covers his ass, his erect cock tents the front, and it does nothing to quench the flame burning inside me.

He looks at me as if he wants to devour me, and I want him to. I want him to consume me.

“The gun is real?” What a dumb question. Leo works for theMafia.Of course the gun is real.

“Yes.” He clicks the safety back on and runs his hand over his face. When he looks at me again, the moment is over, and he’s back to his calm, collected self. “You’re shivering,” he says. “You can’t sleep here. Take a hot shower, and I’ll make you something to drink.”

It’s not because I’m cold—I haven’t even registered the temperature. I’m shivering because of his nearness.

And it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how much Leo wants me because he’s not going to lethimself do anything about it. I’ve banged my head against this wall often enough that I’ve given myself a concussion, and it’s time I stopped.

“You’re snapping orders at me again, orsacchiotto mio,” I say through gritted teeth.

He exhales slowly. “You’re shivering,” he repeats. “I don’t want you to catch a cold. You can either take a shower of your own accord, or I will pick you up and put you there myself. Youwillbe safe under my watch. Is that clear, principessa?”

My forehead furrows. His voice is level, but a wild storm rages in his eyes.You will be safe under my watch.This isn’t about a leaky roof, and this isn’t about my soaking wet nightdress. This is about something else entirely.

I’m missing something important.

Without another word, I turn and head to the bathroom. My lord and master has ordered a hot shower. I live to obey.

Leo isin the kitchen when I emerge from the shower wearing black silk pajamas and a matchingtank top, and his eyes rest on me an instant too long before he drags his gaze away.

“Cocoa,” he says, handing me a mug. He’s fully dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt that clings to the taut muscles of his chest and abs. “My mother used to make me cocoa when I got caught in the rain.”

I cherish the freely volunteered snippet of personal information. “Thank you.”

“I checked the bedrooms. Your room took the brunt of the storm. I’m afraid your mattress is ruined.” His lips twitch. “Before you ask, your sewing room is dry, and your fabric is safe. The water damage seems to have confined itself to that floor.”

I hadn’t thought about my fabric at all. “That’s good.” The cocoa is hot, rich, and creamy. I tend to default to tea when I need a warm beverage during the day, but hot chocolate is coming in strong as a contender.

“I’ll find contractors in the morning. As for the rest of tonight, you can sleep in my bedroom.”

“Okay.”

I finish my cocoa and follow Leo back upstairs. Three of the empty bedrooms have buckets in them to catch the leaks. No buckets in my bedroom—there’s no point as my mattress is acting as a giant sponge—but towels cover the floor, soaking up the puddles. “You’ve been busy.”

He grunts in reply. I trail after him to his bedroom, which miraculously has remained completely dry. He waves me toward the king-size bed. “I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms.”

“Seriously?” This is ridiculous. “On what mattress?”

“The floor is fine.”

If I strangle him right now, there’s not a judge or jury in the city that will find me guilty. “Leo, half the bedrooms have leaks,” I say, clinging to my rapidly dwindling patience with both hands. “This is the only dry room on this floor, and you have a king-size mattress. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

It’s not just my patience that’s eroding. It’s also my optimism. Leo’s attracted to me, and yet he persists in pushing me away. His many rejections have worn me down, and I’m struggling not to burst into tears. The rest of my life stretches in front of me, a wasteland devoid of love, warmth,touch.I’ve never slept with anyone; I was waiting for fireworks and animal magnetism. Had I known my future would be a dry, sexless desert, I would have fucked the first guy I kissed.

He edges toward the door. “That’s a bad idea, Rosa.”

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