Page 26 of Alessio

Corrado shrugged like he expected nothing different. “Our names are on the deed. It’s your home, too. You good?”

“Not even close.”

“I’m sorry.”

But all it took was Corrado’s hand coming out from his side so that his fingertips could glide along the inner skin of Alessio’s wrist. A soft touch, something he wasn’t at all used to with this man when they were doing their thing. He expected roughness … but never in their quiet moments, he knew.

Never then.

Alessio let out a slow stream of air, flipping his hand around, and let his fingers weave with Corrado’s. The touch was brief, with featherlight pressure, and he didn’t look at his lover, but he needed that.

A them moment amid everything else.

It was good.

Right.

Then, Alessio let Corrado go, and moved to head out of the bedroom, but stopped beside him first to say, “And I kissed her earlier, so you know.”

Corrado cleared his throat. “Did you?”

“I did.”

“Hmm.” Corrado glanced to the side, cocking a brow when his gaze met Alessio’s. “Was that because you wanted to hurt me, confuse her, or something else?”

Alessio smirked.

Really?

“One—I don’t need to use her to hurt you. Ever.”

“Fair,” Corrado replied.

“Two—that woman is a lot of things, but confused isn’t one of them when she’s getting something she wants. And she wanted that.”

“Be careful with that, she’s not used to this thing like we are.” Then, Corrado nodded, his tongue peeking out to run along the edge of his bottom lip. “So, your reason for doing it was the something else?”

“I wanted to kiss her. That’s all.”

“And you always take what you want, don’t you?”

Alessio winked. “That I do.”

Back in the living room, Alessio took his position on the couch he had vacated earlier. Ginevra looked his way as he picked up the book, too, but continued playing her game like nothing was happening. Corrado hung back in the hallway like he hadn’t decided whether he wanted to join them.

“So,” Ginevra said, still watching the screen, her tone playful, “where is everyone sleeping?”

The black Cartier watch on Alessio’s wrist ticked past twelve at night as Corrado stepped into the penthouse’s home gym. Corrado found Alessio perched on top of the bars they used for chin-ups. The single, smooth bar of metal secured between two beams wasn’t the most comfortable place to sit, but it gave him a better view out of the windows, and made him seem unavailable to conversation.

Which he was because—

“Is that the book Ginevra was reading?” Corrado asked.

Alessio rolled his eyes and peered up from the words on the page. “The poems, yeah.”

“Didn’t she take that to bed with her?”

Why was he asking questions?