Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect, #5)

by Neva Altaj

But I wasn’t satisfied with watching her from afar anymore. I want Milene Scardoni like I’ve never wanted anything else before.

“What I am, is uninterested.” “Uninterested.” I nod. He’s absolutely nuts. “About the people who work for you, or people in general?” “In general. With one exception,” he says and levels me with that unnerving gaze of his. “You.”

“You shooed away a whole restaurant full of people?” “You said you wouldn’t be comfortable with them staring at you.” He pulls my hand closer. “Now they won’t.” My heartbeat skyrockets. That’s the most fucking romantic thing a man has ever done for me. “So, a hundred or more people had to leave in the middle of their meal because of my shorts?” “No. They had to leave because no one gets to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Why”—he buries his fingers in my hair, pulling my head lower until my mouth almost touches his lips—“did I buy the bracelet, Milene?” “Because I liked it?” I whisper against his lips. “Because you liked it,” he says as he presses his mouth to mine.

“I want to feel her skin when I touch her,” I answer. “And I can’t do that if I’m wearing a glove.”

“If even a seed of an idea of hurting my wife formed in anyone’s head, I would smash said head open with my bare hands like it’s a fucking watermelon,” I spit out. “Next, I would take out their sick brain and squeeze it so hard the only thing left would be mush.”