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“Sounds like Alto,” I scoff bitterly. “So full of fucking shit.”

“I thought he was just being nice.”

“Doubtful. Probably wanted a look up your skirt.”

Jasmine pauses, climbing higher as I step forward and place one foot against the base of the ladder. It’s nailed to supports that glide horizontally across the shelves so there’s no danger of it slipping, but it calms my mind.

“Is that what you are trying to do?” She peers down at me over the remaining books in her arm. “Howdirty.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure her, desperately averting my eyes from her gorgeously toned legs that disappear into the creamy frill of her bunched-up skirt. “I’d ask.”

“What a gentleman,” she chuckles. “So what’s your beef with your brother?”

“Half,” I murmur on reflex.

“And that. Why is he talking about blood?”

“He’s my half brother, if you couldn’t tell.” I pat my chest with one hand. “And he’s a racist piece of shit who cares about garbage like that.”

“Santino Gatti has a bastard son in his home?” Jasmine finishes sliding one book back and hangs onto the top rung while staring down at me. “How did you manage that?”

“A lot of hard work.” Somehow, when she says it, it doesn’t feel as insulting as when it comes from Alto.

“I’m impressed.” Jasmine leans far to the left and slides the last book back. “Maybe I should be scared.”

“Maybe you should.”

Books secured back on the shelf, she starts to climb back down, but a few rungs away, she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “Full disclosure, Alto told me he was the better choice. He said you’re not marriage material and if I wanted a real man then I should choose him instead.”

“Fuck,” I snort as laughter bubbles up. “He’s been on my ass about how shitty this plan is, and it turns out he just wants it for himself.”

“I quite like being in demand. If it wasn’t for the fact that your father is a psychopath and your entire family has been our sworn enemy for six years.”

“We were allies once.”

She pauses her climb not far from the ground with her body angled away from me in order to look down at me again. “Yeah. Once.”

Jasmine slips on her next step, missing the rung by an inch. Despite the grip she has on the ladder, both my hands fly out and catch her hips and leg as she squeaks in alarm. She clings to the ladder with a soft laugh as her skirt bunches up higher on her thighs. Face-to-face with her ass, I look up at her.

“You good?”

“Yep. No shame here.”

“Oh, none at all.”

But now I can feel her. An inch of hot skin under my thumb where her skirt caught and rode up further, exposing her thigh to my saving hand. My other hand rests on her hip, and I know I should pull away and let her down.

Then something urges me on.

Before I can think it through, I’m stroking up the back of her thigh with my thumb until I find the lace hem of her panties.

I should stop.

But she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she’s watching me over her shoulder, and when I look up at her, she smirks. “Pervert.”

Her skin is silky soft and radiating a heat I want to bury myself in. She doesn’t stop me when I slide my hand up further and cup the swell of her ass. She doesn’t stop me when I move my other hand down to caress her opposite leg and push her skirt fully out of the way. She doesn’t stop me when I reach the waistband of her panties and slowly tug them down.

She also doesn’t stop me when I cave to the sudden primal urge to taste and kiss the back of her thigh.