Liliana
I knew it was wrong. If someone found out, if my Father found out, heâd never let me leave Chicago again. He wouldnât even let me leave the house anymore. It was vastly inappropriate and unladylike. People were still bad-mouthing Gianna after all that time. Theyâd jump at the chance to find a new victim, and what could be better than another Scuderi sister getting caught in the act?
And deep down I knew that I was exactly like Gianna when it came to resisting temptation. I simply couldnât. Romeroâs door wasnât locked. I slipped into his bedroom on tiptoes, holding my breath. He wasnât there but I could hear water running in the adjoining bathroom. I crept in that direction. The door was ajar. I peered through the gap.
In the last few days Iâd learned that Romero was a creature of habit, so I found him under the shower as expected. But from my vantage point I couldnât see much. I edged the door open and slipped in.
My breath caught at the sight of him. He had his back turned to me and it was a glorious view. The muscles in his shoulders and back flexed as he washed his brown hair. Naturally, my eyes dipped lower to his perfectly shaped backside. Iâd never seen a man like this, but I couldnât imagine that anyone could compare to Romero.
He began to turn. I should have left then. But I stared in wonder at his body. Was he aroused? He tensed when he spotted me. His eyes captured my gaze before they slid over my nightgown and naked legs. And then I found an answer to my question. He hadnât really been aroused before. Oh hell.
My cheeks heated as I watched him grow harder. It was all I could do not to cross the distance between us and touch him.
Romero slid the shower open with unhurried movements and wrapped a towel around his waist. Then he stepped out. The scent of his spicy shower gel wafted into my nose. Slowly he advanced on me. âYou know,â he said in a strange voice. âIf someone found us like this, they might get the wrong idea. An idea that could cost me my life, and you your reputation.â
I still couldnât move. I was stone, but my insides seemed to burn, to liquefy into red-hot lava. I couldnât look away. I didnât want to.
My eyes lingered on the edge of the towel, on the fine line of dark hairs disappearing beneath it, on the delicious V of his hips. Without my volition, my hand moved, reaching for Romeroâs chest, needing to feel his skin beneath my fingertips.
Romero caught my wrist before I could touch him, his grip almost painful. My gaze shot up, half embarrassed and half surprised. What I saw on Romeroâs face made me shiver.
He leaned forward, coming closer and closer. My eyes fluttered shut, but the kiss I wanted never came. Instead I heard the creak of the door. I peered up at Romero. Heâd only opened the bathroom door wide. Thatâs why heâd moved closer, not to kiss me. Embarrassment washed over me. How could I have thought he was interested in me?
âYou need to leave,â he murmured as he straightened. His fingers were still curled around my wrist.
âThen let me go.â
He did instantly and took a step back. I stayed where I was. I wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch me in turn. He cursed and then he was upon me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other on my hip. I could almost taste his lips they were so close. His touch made me feel more alive than anything ever had.
âLeave,â he rasped. âLeave before I break my oath.â It was half plea, half order.