Page 42 of Liberated By Sin
Surprise betrayed me when the wordyetflared in my thoughts.
“What are we going to do here?” I asked, ignoring his invasive questioning. “What you saw back there with Tarasov—”
“I saw nothing,” he replied with a grin and loosened his grip. “If I let go, will you promise not to shoot me?”
“As long as you don’t do anything to make me shoot you.”
“Fair. But can I make a request?” His hand slid away, and he stuffed it in his pocket.
The gesture caused his shirt to tighten against the muscles in his arms and chest, and for the first time, I was drawn to his masculinity in a way I hadn’t felt since…
Since…
Ezra.
Upon thinking his name, my heart thundered, and I stumbled back, swallowing down the anguish quickly rising up my throat. The back of my knees collided with a coffee table, and I started to fall until Santino’s arms were around me, plucking my feet off the floor and pressing my body to his chest.
“Easy,” he crooned. “That son of a bitch has caught my knee moretimes than I’m proud to admit. And now it tries to get you?” His eyes dropped to my lips. “Seems to me it needs a new home.”
“You watched me kill a man today, yet you’re trying to protect me from a coffee table?” I said, too breathily for my liking at his closeness.
An amused laugh bubbled from his lips. And hard as I tried to suppress it, I felt a smile cresting my own.
He set me down without waiting for a request, which I was thankful for, and motioned toward the sofa. I warred against his silent plea but found myself obliging when I realized the demons that had attempted to escape the prison inside my mind had been forgotten while in the cradle of his arms.
Warm, bright light soothed my skin, and the aroma of a delicious meal filled my senses, rousing me from sleep and coaxing me to draw in a deep breath. But awareness gripped me suddenly, and I snapped my eyes open in a panic, unable to remember when or how I’d fallen asleep. Most importantly, I realized that I wasn’t in my bed, my room, and most definitely not my apartment.
“Breathe,” I whispered, feeling the beginning of a spiral as I recalled those days in my past when I was put to sleep against my will.
He’s not like them.
I wanted to believe that with every fiber of my being because, as hard as I’d tried, I didn’t hate Santino’s company.
I shot up from the couch, surprised to see my gun and blade on a side table. However, the coffee table that had once sat in the middle of Santino’s living room was nowhere in sight. It was undoubtedly a strange observation, but I had more important information to piece together.
Clutching both weapons in each hand, I followed the low thrum of music and the scent of cooked pork down a hallway toward the kitchen. Upon entering the bright space, I wasn’t sure what I would encounter,but Santino by the stove, shirtless and with an oven mitt, was almost more of a surprise than waking up on the man’s couch.
“I haven’t done anything that would warrant a shot in the back yet,” he assured amusedly as he spooned scrambled eggs from a skillet and slid them onto a plate.
“Why did I just wake up on your couch instead of my bed?”
“You fell asleep,preziosa,” he said, oh-so-casual, adding two strips of bacon to the plate and twisting around. “And you looked exhausted. Why would I wake you?”
“Whywouldn’tyou?” I bit out.
I tried to focus on his face and not the gray sweatpants clinging low on his tapered hips as he rounded the large island separating us and placed a beautifully plated breakfast in front of me.
“Coffee? Giada, my housekeeper and chef, makes the best cup. But she has the morning off—”
“Santino! Don’t play dumb. We barely know each other. I can’t just spend the night.”
“I’ll remember that next time.”
With a subtle shake of my head, I snorted an incredulous laugh. “Next time, huh? Your delusion knows no bounds.”
“You’re coming off a little ungrateful.”
“Better than crazy.”