Page 58 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
He should have let me move away. There’s no reason for us to stand like this unless…
When he start to leans in, my skin becomes gooseflesh.
Oh my God. Is he…
Suddenly, he sways, and his eyelids droop.
“Giorgio?”
He gives me a few confused blinks. “What the…”
Oh God, the tea is working.
“Here, let’s sit down.” I lace my arm through his, but he shakes his head.
“Martina, go to my room,” he mutters. “Something’s happening. Lock the door and get the gun from my nightstand.”
Guilt slices through me. He thinks this is some plot to get me. “No, Giorgio, it’s okay. We just need to get you somewhere comfortable.”
When he leans his weight on me, I nearly trip.
“Fuck.” He slaps his free palm on the counter. “What the fuck is happening?”
The tea is working fast. We’ve taken two steps in the direction of the dining room, so at this point, I give up on that plan. “Trust me, you’re okay. Just sit down on the floor.”
To my surprise, he actually does it. Or maybe it’s the fact that his knees are buckling, and our controlled slide against the counter turns into a barely controlled fall.
Oof.
We land on the floor, his body falling halfway onto mine. He’ssoheavy, he may as well be a marble statue. It’s a struggle to maneuver him into a somewhat comfortable position, and by the time I accomplish it, my breaths are coming out in pants.
Holy crap. I actually did it.
I take an inventory of him. His chest rises with steady breaths, his lips are slightly parted, and the lines he always has between his brows have softened. He looks different asleep. More at ease.
My hand reaches out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.
Am I crazy to think he was about to kiss me right before he started to feel the effects of the tea?
Yes, you are.
You’re also an idiot to think Giorgio would ever look at you that way.
Don’t read anything into the nice things he does or says. He’s only doing this for your brother.
The usual thoughts are there, but for the first time, I don’t fully believe them.
Fear and excitement skate through me. What if there really is something brewing between him and I?
Am I brave enough to do anything about it?
Dragging my palms down my cheeks, I decide I’m going to get back to that later. Despite the temptation to ruminate and appreciate Giorgio while he’s this unguarded, I’ve got something I have to do.
Sliding my hand into the front pocket of his slacks, I feel for the key, but this pocket is empty. It must be on the other side.
When I reach into the other pocket, I’m acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin. The pocket lining dips over his thigh, and as I push my hand all the way in, my fingers get dangerously close to the bulge in his pants.
What would he do if he woke up right now? Would he tear my hand off him? Or would he grab me by the wrist the way he’s done so many times in class and move my palm to that bulge?
