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I didn’t know I was into butts. He sure is; that much was evident to me with his dastardly toy collection. My cheeks clench from thinking of the next size up of butt plug that’s undoubtedly coming my way.
Gathering the quilt tighter around my body, I rest against the headboard, watching him. He kneels down, muscles flexing under that olive skin as he goes to the only hiding place in the closet. He’s unwinding the gray hoodie.
I watch as the phone pops out and lands on the floor.
Traitor.
It’s like slow motion in a horror movie when he picks up the phone and turns to me with laser-like eyes. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh my gosh!” I cry. “How did that get there?”
“Do they offer acting classes at that fancy school of yours?” He eyes me.
What a funny question. “No. Why?”
“I didn’t think so.” He narrows his gaze. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Is that the worst thing a person can be?” I ask.
He stands. Naked. All ten feet of him. He holds the phone out. “Where did you get this?”
Protectiveness for Gian comes on strong. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t,” he demands. “Or won’t.”
I shake my head. “Can’t.”
He moves across the floor, pantherlike, toward me. “Do I need to spank the answer out of you?”
“Do what you like.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t say.”
“Gian is the only one who could have gotten you a phone,” he says.
The phone rings. Again.
CHAPTER 21
Ophelia
“Oh, God.”I bury my face in my hands.
His stare is heavy on me as he flips the phone open aggressively. He answers it with a rude, “Hello?”
His eyes widen as he hears the voice on the other end of the phone. They talk to him for a long moment while I sit here, trying to breathe. Finally, he holds the phone to me, a dazed look of shock on his face.
He moves toward me. “It’s for you.”
“Oh. Um… Okay.” Holding the blanket tight around my chest, I scoot to the edge of the bed. Staying as far from him as possible, I take the phone.
He goes to find his pants, pulling them on one long muscular leg at a time while I answer the phone.
Threading his black leather belt loop by loop through his pants, he eyes me as I speak. “Hello?”
A long string of curse words in Italian comes through from the other end of the phone. At the end of the monologue, Gian says.“Sorry. I thought he’d be in his room sleeping, and it would be safe to call. God, he’s going to kill me.”
I try to ignore the dark stare from the shirtless man in the corner of the room as I tell Gian, “You and me both.” There’s a loud snort from the dark side of the room.
I glance up. If looks could kill, stab a knife through my heart. Now he’s pacing. He’s got a hand yanking through his hair. Good lord, we all know that’s a bad sign.