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I expect Damiano to pull out his gun and shoot me, but instead, he stalks toward me.
Even though I’m scared shitless, I don’t move a muscle.
When his fingers, once again, wrap around my throat, and he shoves me back until I’m pressed up against a wall, a squeak escapes me. I grab hold of his wrist with my left hand while my right slams against his way too solid chest.
For an unnerving moment, Damiano’s eyes burn into mine.
Somehow, I manage to notice that his grip on my throat isn’t biting like before.
Anger pours from him in crushing waves, and I swallow hard when it becomes near impossible to hold his gaze.
His voice is a low rumble of thunder when he growls, “Don’t ever say anything like that in my mother’s presence again.”
Once more, I’m too brave for my own good, as I say, “I won’t lie for anyone, including you.”
His jaw clenches so hard that a muscle jumps near his temple, and I expect to hear his teeth grind against each other.
He hasn’t killed you yet. Don’t push him.
For years, I’ve had to fight for myself, and it takes one hell of a swing at my pride when I whisper, “I regret upsetting your mother.”
His grip loosens around my throat, and I’m surprised when his eyes lower to the bruises he left on me.
I feel his thumb brush over my skin, and it makes a surprised gasp escape my lips.
No man has touched me in a gentle way before.
My stomach starts to spin with nerves, not from fear but with a strange sense of anticipation. The scent of his cologne and manliness fills the air I breathe.
I remember how lovingly Damiano spoke to his mother, and he treats her like she’s precious to him.
What would it be like to have the protection of such a powerful man?
No one would be able to hurt me.
His eyes flick to where I’m still holding his wrist, and I quickly let go. My arms fall to my sides, and glad for the wall behind me, I lean my weight against it.
Dio, the romance books and Bridgerton are getting to me. Damiano Falco is not a man you fantasize about.
He takes a step away from me, and I can’t stop my gaze from sweeping over his muscled body.
When I read a steamy scene from one of the books, I felt a tightening sensation in my abdomen, and as I look at Damiano, the same sensation is back. Only, it’s a hell of a lot stronger.
He tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing on me.
Crap.
For a moment, I lower my head, and banishing the attraction I’m feeling, I suck in a fortifying breath. When I’m sure my face is expressionless, I lift my head and lock eyes with him again.
With his gaze still narrowed on me, he demands, “Tell me what you were thinking about before you lowered your head.”
He didn’t see it written all over my face?
When I don’t answer fast enough, his expression starts to darken.
Unable to lie, my cheeks go up in flames as I admit, “I just noticed how attractive you are.”
Surprise flickers over his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.
