Page 91 of Coerced Kiss
I sit up and throw back the covers with determination. I’m about to swing my legs over the side of the bed when the bathroom door opens and Saverio steps out in a cloud of steam with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. A whiff of his shower gel reaches my nose, something outdoorsy and fresh like mountain air and grass wet with dew.
I freeze in place, taking in the sight. It’s not the first time I see him shirtless, but with the drops of water rolling off his enormous arms and strong torso, his hardness and strength are somehow magnified. Those arms are like war weapons. The well-shaped biceps, triceps, and forearms show off his masculine power. His broad chest is chiseled, his pecs are cut to perfection, and his abs are like blocks carved from granite. The muscles running diagonally over the sides of his ribs are drawn in stark lines. Below, the deep V of his hips disappears beneath the towel. A dusting of dark hair is visible above. I’ve never seen a more perfect male specimen.
“Morning.” He flashes me a smile. “Did you sleep well again?”
My voice comes out a little hoarse. “Yes.”
“Mm.” He winks. “It seems my side is definitely the better side.”
“You didn’t get any sleep.”
“I’ll survive,” he says, dropping the towel and catching it in one hand. “It’s not the first time I forsake a good night’s rest.”
A gasp escapes my lips. I can’t believe he exposed himself as if he has no care in the world, standing in front of me wearing nothing but a small gold earring. He’s beautiful in his maleness. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, the thick dark hair that draws a triangle over his groin adding to the virility of the portrait. He’s as big as I pictured from when he pressed my palm over his length. Having a body like that should be a sin.
The muscles in his long, powerful legs bunch when he walks with a lazy stride toward the bed.
“What?” he says, the light in his steely blue eyes teasing. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Oh, but he has no idea how wrong he is. He’s in a different league.
His bicep flexes when he lifts his arm and towels his hair dry, shaking drops of water over the floor. My gaze is drawn lower, to how the act moves his cock, to how it grows hard under my stare.
Jerking my head up, I fix my gaze on his face.
His lips quirk as he lowers the towel, leaving his wet hair messy in a sexy way. “Like what you see?”
I swallow. “So much for modesty.”
“We’re living together,my love.” His grin is cocky. “You may as well know what’s in your bed.”
“Yourbed,” I say, flexing my jaw. “And there’s no need to know what’s in it. I know who I’m dealing with.”
“Good,” he drawls. “Our relationship won’t be convincing if you look as if you’ve seen a vision at the first chance I drop my clothes.”
I glare at him. “Why would you want to take off your clothes where someone could see you?”
“I sometimes spend weekends away with friends. It’ll be suspicious if you act like a virgin around me. Seeing me in my birthday suit shouldn’t turn your cheeks red. Your eyes should certainly not flare when you study my junk.”
Shoving the covers away lest I get tangled in the sheets, I jump to my feet. “You’re such an arrogant?—”
He holds up a finger. “You may want to rethink that insult before giving voice to it. You know what the punishment will be.”
Standing so close to him when he’s naked and aroused messes with my hormones. They’re already all over the place with the pregnancy, but all my wires seem to cross as my lower body heats and my skin tingles with awareness even while anger bursts through my veins.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I say, turning away and marching to the bathroom.
A swat falls on my backside, the sharp slap searing my skin.
Squealing, I spin around.
He stands there with a wicked tilt to his lips, the towel still poised in the air.
“Did you just hit me with the towel?” I exclaim.
“That was for the insult. I’ll bend you over my knee tonight. I know you’re in a rush to get to work now.”
I’m about to tell him where he can go when a dizzy spell hits me at the same time as the tomatoes of last night—or rather, of this morning—push up in my throat.