Passport to Him - Page 42

“You get off on it.”

“Beautiful women with curly black hair, green eyes and a body with so many curves that I don’t know which to touch first gets me off,” his warm breath tickled me skin as he inches closer towards me.

Finn. Think of Finn. You are done with this. But fuck he’s hot. These fuckable eyes.

I walk past him and further down the metal walkway towards the sound of heavy running water. I stop at the railing at the end that overlooks the pools. The water still runs through and remains filled with water. Still supplying the water to the Trevi Fountain. Tears swell in my eyes at the sight of the clear water below me. My Nonna’s voice heard in my ears.

The water underneath the Trevi Fountain is magical, mi amor.

I shudder at the softest touch as fingers graze across the small of my back. He stands behind me, placing his strong hand around my waist. The aroma of his fresh mint scent invades every fiber of my being. Every nerve on fire as I become very aware of how close he stands to me. Blissfully aware of his grip around my waist. Just one touch and he makes me come undone.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“My Nonna said the water was magical under the fountain,” I say, inhaling a shuddering breath.

“You’re Nonna was a smart woman,” his breath against my neck.

“Brilliant,” I reply.

I turn my body around to face him, pulling myself out of tight grasp around my waist. His glacier blue eyes even brighter in the reflection from the clear pools of water below.

“Where was she from?” he asked.

“I’m not quite sure. it’s been kind of a secret they have held together about their history and why they left for New York. I’m kind of hoping being here I might be able to uncover something, anything.”

We stood there for minutes, not saying anything. Just staring into one another’s eyes. Mind reeling. Emotions a jumbled mess.

I care for Finn. I’m falling for Finn. But I can’t ignore the pull towards the man in front of me. I don’t want to ruin what Finn and I had, but we aren’t exclusive. I can’t worry about what people think. I need to put myself first. What I want. What do I want?

“Hotel Artemide, 8:00pm,” I whisper.

He furrows his brow in confusion, but quickly bites his lip in amusement. Feeling confidence in my newfound sexuality, I lean in closer to him. My fingers grazing the buttons of his shirt.

“Or you are under arrest,” I whisper.

“Under arrest?” Lorenzo asks.

“Because you’re in the mafia,” I say, a sarcastic smirk gracing my lips.

“Just because I am Italian, I am in the mafia?”

I nod my head up and down in response. He looks at me in amusement, pursing his lips together. He released a short scoff and nods his head. The reaction on his face nearly sends me over the edge.

“What gave it away?”

“The neck tattoo.”

He nodded, his amused smile beaming across his face.

Do eyes glisten and sparkle in real life? Holy shit. I want his beard to tickle my thighs.

Thoughts of him inside me nearly set my skin ablaze. I turn away from him and start to walk down the walkway towards the stairs.

“How will I know what room?” he asked.

Turning around to face him, my eyebrow raised, “If you want me, you will figure it out.”

“A hint?” Lorenzo asked.

“My name is Amelia,” I say quietly.

“Amelia,” he repeats.

“Figure it out, Lorenzo.”

I gave him a wink before turning around and walking up the metal stairs. I can feel his eyes on me. My skin still burning with his seduction from his touch.

* * *

The waitfor the clock to turn to eight o’clock seemed like an eternity. I fully believed that he wouldn’t find me. He wouldn’t make the effort to find my room. I nervously smoothed the black silk robe around my body with my palms when there’s a knock at the door.

Fuck. 8pm on the dot.

I walked to the door and grabbed the door handle. I took a shuddering breath before slowly opening it towards me. Lorenzo stood there with a black button up shirt and black suit pants. His hair slicked back and parted over. My gaze drawn to his ice blue “fuck me” eyes.

“You found me.”

“Well, I don’t want to go to jail since I am in the mafia,” he chuckles.

The mafia. Not my best pickup line.

I step aside and he walks further into my room. A palpable tension enters the room with him. I lock the door behind me as he looks around the room, his gaze focused on the view of Rome out the main patio window.

“Incredible view,”

“It’s not bad,” I whisper.

He turned around to face me, hands on his hips. An authoritative pose. Demanding. My fingers laced around the tied belt of my robe, untying it while my gaze never left his. His eyes went wide as I shrugged the robe down by body to the floor, revealing the short blue jumpsuit. POLICE written across my large breasts. A pair of handcuffs dangled from the belt around my waist. The jumpsuit was a little tight, barely holding everything in.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He walked slowly towards me, his fingers grazing across the handcuffs. The soft fabric did nothing from protecting my skin from the soft skin of his touch. I notice the small tattoos on every finger, carefully hid behind chunky silver rings.

An ace of spades on his pinky.

A snake on his ring finger.

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