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His voice is a low rumble that goes straight to the center of my chest like a poison-tipped arrow.
The feeling in my belly is like a cascade of pebbles skittering down a mountain, the warning before an avalanche.
Alessia Maria Elana Rossi Romano.”
“He has more than just arms,” Sal says. “He’s got the whole present.” “Package,” Enzo corrects. “I think you mean he has a good package.”
“Alessia Maria Elana Rossi Romano!”
When her brown eyes meet mine, I feel as though I’ve stepped straight off the edge of a cliff. When she smiles, I hit the cool water below, completely submerged, weightless.
“So, you’ll have me just for my arms?” She smiles. “Your company is not altogether horrible.” “‘Not altogether horrible,’” I repeat. “I’ll have that printed on my business cards.”
The soft brush of his fingertips as they graze my ear, then trail down my cheek, as gentle a caress as the wind.
And he’ll be gone just as fast as a breeze. Here, then gone, I remind myself. But myself isn’t listening.
personal protection officers.
Phillip takes my hand in his, linking our fingers and making my heart skip like a stone over water,
Alessia feels like a gift I’ve yet to unwrap, but somehow also like a comfortable pair of gloves, worn into a perfect fit. It doesn’t really make sense. And yet—here we are.
Enzo’s smile rivals the sun as he gives my hand one last squeeze that feels like both encouragement and warning.
taking to Phillip looked like all three climbing him like an olive tree, one pouring a large dose of lemon juice into his water, and another cutting off a lock of his hair.
nebulous.
he slides his fingertips over my cheek, leaving a trail of bubbles. I can feel them on my skin, as light as a chaste kiss.
The nickname Phillip has been using for me sounds like music, a gentle and melodic caress. If his lips moved any closer, they would be pressed to my ear. The torture is simply delicious. I want it to end—in a kiss, obviously—and I also never want it to end.
We stand this way for a few seconds like two snakes, coiled and waiting to strike. More delicious tension sparking, more wanting.
I wonder just how close I can dance to this flame without being burned. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is calm—too calm.
Phillip’s smile is wide, his blue eyes like the ocean on a perfect day. His smile is blinding.
His eyes slowly flutter open, and he stares at me as though mesmerized. First at my eyes, then down to my lips. I have never been looked at in this way before, like I am both a puzzle and the key to solving it.
So long as I ignore the guilt, throbbing like a bruise being continuously poked.
his chest is pressed up against my back like he’s a new jacket I’m trying on.
Phillip cups my face in his hand, and I lean into his palm like a desperate house cat.
a post-kissing haze.
the bathrobe hanging by the door, which feels like wearing a cloud.
might just be convinced to run away with you and have your babies.
Lessy’s
Luci's
He’s also clearly a not-so-secret softy.
still chattering like a jovial squirrel
I press my cheek tighter to his chest, soaking him up like he’s the sun and I’m a cave-dweller emerging outside for the first time in a decade. I’m starved for him. In fact, I might stay permanently attached.
Forget being his fiancée—I’m more like a new, living sweater he can never remove.
easily keeping his sister in his grasp like she’s a tiny kitten and not a fully grown young woman.
Jealousy rages through me like a stream of fire shot from a flamethrower.
both girls stare like I’ve sprouted a second head.
understand the power of a kiss?” “It sounds like you’re challenging
“Admit it—you like kissing me so much, it makes you purr like a big jungle cat.”
Phillip’s smile is a slow sunrise, blinding and warm and overwhelmingly hard to look away from.
“Alessia Maria Elana Rossi Romano,
Alessia Maria Elana Rossi Romano
he’s better with you. You are his heart.”
I’d like to slide his words into a little wooden box I can keep in a drawer and pull out whenever I’m feeling low. “Thank you.”
the peacocks begin to shake their tails, vibrations that sound like rattling bones.
I’m like a book that’s been left out in the rain, all my pages damp. Soggy, sad, and limp—that’s me.
home isn’t about a building. It’s about the people who make you feel most happy to be yourself.
