Page 58 of Thorns of Desire

I shrugged. “Not much, but I know you don’t get sick days.”

He nudged my face toward his, pressing a kiss on my nose. “Well, I’m taking free time now. We’re enjoying each other.”

My eyebrow shot up. “Enjoying each other?”

“Sì.”

I slid my hands around him. “You mean you want more sex.”

He paused, his beautiful mouth tipping into a frown. “No, I mean I’m trying to get to know you. We don’tjusthave to have sex.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now I know you’re shitting me.”

“Athena, Italian men don’t shit you.” Okay, maybe things were getting lost in translation, but before I could think of a better explanation, he changed the subject.

“So, why romance novels?” he asked curiously.

“Huh?” My head was spinning. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you write romance novels? Why not thrillers or mysteries?” I narrowed my eyes on him and he sighed. “You told me last night that I’m your muse.”

Ah, that checked out. Damn drunk honesty.

I shrugged, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

He studied me for a few heartbeats before answering. “Yes, you do.”

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the strange urge to tell him what I’d never told anyone.

I cleared my throat. “You’ll laugh.”

“I swear on my life that I won’t.”

I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I love the idea of love.”

His brows furrowed. “Explain.” Then as if he remembered his manners, he added, “Ti prego.”

“I really need to download Duolingo and start learning some basic Italian,” I grumbled.

“Please,” he translated.

Sliding out of his arms, I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my hands around them. For a minute, maybe more, I stared out the window, focusing on the clear blue sky. He must have sensed I needed a moment, because he remained quiet, waiting patiently.

“I know I said last night that I believe love brings nothing but trouble and pain—yes, Idoremember some of my drunken rambling—but the truth is… I’ve never been in love,” I finally admitted. “I’ve never seen it either. Well, except with Reina and Isla, but even then, it seems so… intangible. So, in order to experience it for myself, I write about it. Versions of how I envision being in love feels, I guess.” It seemed ridiculous now that I was saying it out loud. “I also read a lot of romance novels. It lets me feel all the emotions through thousands of different stories, breaking my heart only for it to be pieced back together with happily-ever-afters.” I let out a sardonic breath, flapping my hands in resignation. “I guess it’s my escape too. So there you have it.”

Silence stretched, his dark eyes pulling me into their depths. I couldn’t interpret the look in them, but something about it made my heart flip.

“Trust me, love exists.” He cupped my face, bringing our noses a breath apart.

I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You Italians are such romantics, but I regret to inform you that it doesn’t. And anyway, weren’t you the one who said you’re terrified of losing the people you love? Why even bother going through all the pain and heartache.”

“Oh,amorina. That’s what I was trying to tell you about loving someone despite the pain. And I plan on showing you exactly what I mean.”

Then he crashed his mouth to mine and the world around us slipped away. I forgot about love and happily-ever-after in his arms.

At least for a moment.

TWENTY-TWO