Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1) - Page 77

I tap my fingers against the glass of Rocco’s window, knowing that he can’t hear it.

I lean closer to the glass and whisper words I’m not ready for him to hear. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He turns suddenly to face me. The frame held firmly in his strong hand.

“I know I’m falling in love with you,” I say quietly when his eyes find mine.

He sets the frame down in its spot on the table along with the bubble bath and approaches the window with steady, even steps.

I study him in my apartment, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to him in my bed every day.

He points at the white dress shirt I’m wearing. It’s the only thing I’m wearing.

I found it slung over the back of a chair in his bedroom.

I brought it to my nose and inhaled. The scent of his cologne comforted me so I slipped it on, silently conspiring how I was going to steal it so I could sleep it in every night when I’m not here.

His lips curve into a smile.

I smile back, urging him with a finger curl to come back to his place.

Just as he nods, a sound pulls my gaze back over my shoulder.

It makes no sense.

I glance back at Rocco in my apartment and then toward the door of his apartment.

I pause when I hear the jingle of keys.

I step closer with the click of the lock turning.

Just as I reach the door, the handle moves and it flies open.

I step back to avoid being hit.

“Jesus.” A man’s voice hits me full on as I lock my eyes on a broad chest covered in a lightweight navy blue sweater.

I look up into a face that resembles Rocco, but it’s younger. This man’s hair is a shade lighter, and his eyes are the same sea blue as the man who lives here.

I stand in stunned silence with the stranger staring back at me.

“Who are you?” I finally take a step back.

He cocks his head to the left, taking me all in. “I’m Luke.”

“You’re Rocco’s brother,” I state, not ask.

“You’re ...” he starts before he looks past me to the dimly lit apartment. “Alone? Where’s my brother?”

I jerk my thumb behind me. “He ran to get something.”

He takes a step into the apartment, dropping a black duffel bag on the floor. “He left?”

I tug the shirt closer to my body. He can’t see anything he shouldn’t, but I still feel exposed. My sex hair and the fact that I’m wearing his brother’s shirt is a dead giveaway for what I’ve been up to. What Rocco and I have been up to.

“Just for a minute.” I tap my toes against the hardwood floor.

“He’s an idiot.”

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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