Page 95 of The Italian Obsession

“I don’t like you not touching me in public.”

“I don’t like not touching you.”

He leans in, takes my face in both hands, and he kisses me. It’s soft, with just the right amount of suction. My feet nearly rise off the floor. He kisses me again as he begins to walk me backwards, and then the ping notifies us of our arrival.

The doors open up and Rico pulls me out. I look around in wonder. The elevator doors opened up directly into his apartment.

It’s huge, with a mezzanine level upstairs. City lights twinkle through the expansive glass wall, and there’s a pool outside on the private terrace.

“This is your house?” I whisper, wide-eyed.

“Yes.” He puts his hands into his pockets, giving me time to look around and get my bearings. “Do you want the tour?”

I nod, suddenly too nervous to speak.

He pulls me through the foyer and down a few dark timber stairs.

“Living area,” he says. I look around in wonder. There are slouchy, navy and chocolate-colored leather couches, a huge bluestone fireplace, and beautiful colored artwork. We walk through double timber doors.

“Dining area.” A beautiful pale wood dining table that seats twelve sits in the middle of the room. “Kitchen.” The kitchen doesn’t even look like a kitchen. It looks like an extravagant restaurant that you would see in a travel brochure. Chunky metal light fittings hang from the ceiling, and large benches take up the floor space.

“Did you pick all the furnishings?” I ask him.

He smiles softly as if imagining what I must see through my eyes. “Yes.”

What are you doing here, Olivia? This is out of your league.

His eyes come to mine. “Do you want to see my bedroom?”

Butterflies flutter deep in my stomach. “I don’t know, do I?”

He steps forward and takes my face in his hands. “Your body told me earlier that you do.”

“You shouldn’t listen to her. She’s…” I stop talking, distracted by his big lips that are suddenly on mine.

“She’s… what?” he breathes.

“She’s good to go and trying to get me into trouble.”

He chuckles, and it’s deep and raspy. “I like that about her.

“She doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

His eyes dance with mischief. “I have no doubt about that.” He kisses me again. “Although, I’m sure she knows what does feel good.” He gently bites my bottom lip and stretches it out. My sex contracts at the feel of his teeth on my skin.

He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes are dark, and he licks his lips in anticipation. “My bedroom is this way, Olivia.”

He takes my hand and leads me up an expansive hall. I’m sure I’m supposed to be taking in my surroundings right now, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the beautiful man holding my hand.

The Devil himself, leading me to his den.

My heart is beating so fast that I have to concentrate on my breathing. I don’t want it to sound like I’m running a marathon, although it totally feels like I am.

His bedroom is big, modern, and minimalistic. The walls are a dark gray, almost navy blue. The linen on the huge bed is white, and white chunky sofas surround another bluestone fireplace. The artwork on the walls is all monochrome photography. It really is something else.

“Wow. You have impeccable taste.”

He steps forward, bringing us closer. “I do.” He kisses me with such passion that I can’t keep my eyes open.