“Potresti amarmi, Amelia,” The words roll off his tongue, his deep baritone and the way the language sounds sending delicious waves down my spine that end up between my legs, making my thighs ache with a need I didn’t want to name. It had a profound impact on me, even if I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, “You could love me, Amelia.” He finally says. Wait…what? Was that what he had said before? “If you let go of this hate,” he says, keeping eye contact, “You could love me. I could provide for you.”
