by Reina Torres
“Natale?”
She heard her name on his tongue and she met his gaze.
His lips lifted slightly at the corners, and as Natale looked at him, she felt a flash of heat roll through her and as she locked onto his eyes she saw the whites bleed to black and back to white again. She knew that her mind was playing tricks on her. What she had seen couldn’t be real. She need rest or to cut back on caffeine. Something.
Still, she couldn’t look away. He was a gorgeous man, but he was also a feast for her eyes. This close to him, the strong features she'd noticed before were suddenly made of chiseled granite or marble.
But, cold stone wasn't what she felt when he was close to her, and even across the room at the workshop, she'd felt his eyes on her. Sought him out with her eyes when she had a moment.
Being this close to him only solidified her gut reaction to him.
He was, in a word, lickable. ‘Head to toe, over the abs and butt, and – oh my god, what is wrong with me?’
“I need to know-”
She licked her lips and took a long deep breath in. “Yes?”
“Where do you want me to sleep?”
“Sleep?” She heard her voice squeak out of her throat. “Aren't you leaving?”
He leaned closer, his hands latching onto her upper arms. “I’m not leaving you.”
She shook herself, but he didn't let go. “You got me home safe,” she agreed, “but we have good security in the building. I can give your name to the doorman and he can let you up in the morning.”
“I'm not leaving you. My brother will arrive some time tonight-”
“Wait, what? Two of you?” She pulled away and put some distance between them. “You can't-”
“Uberto will be staying at our home in the city,” he explained, “but I'm going to be with you every step of the way.”
“Until the show,” she added on for him. “you mean you're going to be with me until the show.”
“As long as you need me.” He kept his tone level, but she knew there was something behind his words. She wanted to ask him again, but she was sure that he wasn't going to reveal anything more.
And she was too tired to argue.
“Fine.”
His eyes darkened again and she laughed, a soft embarrassed chuckle. She was sure she was hallucinating, but she was hoping she’d manage to enjoy it while it lasted. She needed more sleep, that was it. Right?
Before she could say a word, her stomach growled. Not in a cute little gurgle of sound. No, her stomach made its stance very clear. It was empty and not happy about it.
Instead of curling up his lip in distaste like some might, Salvatore's manner changed again, softening as he smiled at her.
“You need to eat.”
She laughed in reply, her mood lightening in an instant. “Now that,” she declared, “I won't argue with.”
Moving toward the kitchen she headed straight for the counter and the drawer of delivery menus. She took out a small stack at the top of the drawer and spread them out on the laminate counter.
Salvatore stepped up at her side and eyed the selection with a grimace that he didn't even try to disguise. “Is that what you eat?”
She didn't even try to disguise her pointed look. “I get home and I'm wiped out. It's that or a box of puffy wheats and milk that I'm sure is probably curds by now.” She heard his silence like klaxons in the room. “So, I take it that you don’t want to go in on some egg fu yung from Mr. Chow?”
Now it was his turn to grimace again. “Not likely.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Then we are at a classic impasse. What do you propose we do, Mr. Orsino?”
Reaching for his phone where it was clipped on his belt, she saw the butt of a handgun visible beneath his coat and she was again reminded why he was in her apartment in the first place. Sobered, she watched him turn on his phone and swipe open an app.
With a low guttural voice command the phone began to ring.
A few repeats of the chime and the call was answered, calling Salvatore by name and with a smile in their tone. She listened in rapt awe as he ordered, some words in English and some in Italian. She couldn't catch all of it, some of her Italian was rusty having grown up in America, but she knew enough to hear the quantities that he was ordering. When Salvatore gave the man her address from memory and hung up, she reached out and poked him in the shoulder.
He furrowed his brow as he looked down at her hand, and then her face. “What was that?”
“That,” she echoed back, “was a lot of food you just ordered. Make sure your brother brings a cooler so you can take it back to your place.”
“That was hardly enough for a few days, and I only ordered that because we’ll be at your workroom for a good portion of the time.”
She gaped at him, that was all she could do.
“You really aren't going to go away.”
“No.” He leaned closer to her. “I made your father a promise, and even before I met you, I was going to keep it.” A text lit up his phone and he looked it over before looking back up into her curious expression. “is something wrong?”
She wanted to be a bit of smartass. The ability to sling comments back and forth with her staff lightened up the workroom on tough days. Instead, she shook her head slightly and asked him the question his words had elicited.
“You said ‘even before you met’ me. What happened? After you met me, what changed?” She couldn't understand why her middle twisted up into a knot before he'd even answered.
He gave her a smile that made her feel lop-sided and warm. “Everything.”
She struggled to understand what he meant. “What?”
“Meeting you was all the difference.” Salvatore lifted a hand and brushed a stray curl behind her ear and it took every ounce of resolution in her not to lean into his touch. “Once I saw you, I knew I’d met my mate.”
Natale was sure she’d misheard him. “Your match. That’s what you meant, right?”
He leaned closer and she didn’t even bother trying to move away. The look in his eyes was mesmerizing. And heaven help her, she wanted to be wrong.
“I meant what I said.” He tried to reassure her. “You, Natale Durante, are my mate. My people hold onto some of our archaic ways.”
“Archaic?” She grinned at him, grateful for the lift in the tone of the conversation. “That’s one way of putting it. It makes it sound like you’re going to drag me off into a cave and have your way with me.” She laughed, a full-throated sound that shook her shoulders and nearly closed her eyes. But she noticed just as quickly that she was the only one laughing. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze and felt her laughter die on her lips. He wasn’t angry. That wasn’t the edge of emotion she saw in his eyes. There was an intensity in his eyes that made her hold her breath. “Is the cave thing an option?”
She was really trying to dispel the tension in the room.
Salvatore looked back at her, and she felt the temperature rise by degrees. “If you’d like,” he drew in a trembling breath between his lips, “I can make it happen.”
Natale wanted to wave it off. Wanted to ease the tension, but with Salvatore she might want to buy into the fantasy.
“Know that you’re the one woman in the world made for me, and me alone.” His tone brooked no argument. “If you want me to spirit you away, I will. Whatever you need or want, Natale. You only have to ask.”
Natale stood there before him silent again. Salvatore certainly knew how to make her speechless. She almost laughed at the thought. Her father would consider that a miracle, but the idea that a man who could melt her panties off with a single look in her direction said he wanted her… wanted to give her anything she wanted… she knew she must be dreaming. Or maybe having a nightmare.
She just couldn’t tell.
“Go, Natale,” he gestured toward the back hallway, “change your clothes, get comfortable. By the time you’re done, I’ll have dinner started.”
His words sunk in, stunning her again. He was going to make her dinner. No man, not even her father, had ever cooked for her. And she didn’t want to miss it, so she would do what he asked, this time. Turning on her heel, she headed for her bedroom with a little skip in her step.
Chapter Three
He heard her steps across the hardwood floor. She barely made a noise as she moved, he could hear the soft tread of her feet, and the beast inside of him sat up to take notice. Salvatore had to remind him that Natale wasn’t a meal or prey, she was theirs.
Theirs.
His bear chuffed in his head, a satisfied and happy sound.
When Natale stepped up beside him at the counter, her hair wrapped up in a towel on her head, a thick fuzzy robe wrapped securely around her body, he leaned closer breathing in her scent.
Fresh from the shower, she was all over delicious, and he liked the warm flush of color in her cheeks.
She looked up at him and her lips curved up in a smile. “That smells delicious.”
His eyes narrowed on her face, drinking in her praise. He wanted to please her in so many ways. “Thank you.” The salmon in the pan sizzled. A little pop and hiss of sound echoed between them in the room.
Natale broke their eye contact, her gaze dropping to the pan. “I thought you were joking about cooking for me.”
“When it comes to you, Natale, I mean what I say.” Salvatore reached for the strainer basket of freshly cut broccoli and took the opportunity to draw in another breath of her scent. Her shampoo smelled like melon and he forced himself to keep his hands off of her.
She stilled beside him and he wondered if she could feel the rising heat in his blood.
“You haven’t been in New York very long, have you?”
The question caught him off guard. “Nearly a decade,” he explained. “Valerio moved here nearly ten years ago and Uberto and I followed him the next year, once we had everything in order in Italy while we would be here.”
“So there’s three of you.”
“Yes.” He picked up a handle and clipped it on to the wire basket, turning when she gasped.
“So that’s what that clip-thing was for!” She looked up at him, her full lower lip nipped in between her teeth. When she released it on a laugh he ached to close the distance between them and sweep his tongue over the pale white line made by her teeth. “I told you, I don’t spend much time in the kitchen.”
“Would you like to learn?”
“To cook?” She laughed and her towel slipped free of her hair.
She made a frantic grasp for it, but he already had it in hand. By the time she realized what had happened she'd knocked the towel from his hand and covered his hand and forearm with her own. She left it there for a moment and he was glad that he'd chosen to roll his sleeves up to his elbows before starting dinner. The feel of her skin against his was incredible, heat without fire, and pleasure from the pain of longing.
The more time he spent with Natale, the more he knew that his instinct had been right. She was his mate, the only woman in existence who could complete him, tame his bear and make him a greater man with her love.
“I'd teach you.”
He saw the short indrawn breath that parted her lips. The narrowing of her eyes, and knew she'd heard the intent beneath his words. He’d teach her how to cook if it made her happy, but he was perfectly happy to cook for her. He’d teach her anything she wanted to know.
And if she wanted, he'd teach her how very precious and desired she was.
The boiling water in the pot roiled over the edge and landed on the burner, sending up a quick burst of steam between them.
“That might be a little overdone,” he explained, his voice deepening as his accent thickened, “you distracted me.”
The blush on her cheeks nearly reached her hairline. “Then we’re even,” she declared. “Today in the workroom, it was almost a losing battle to get my work done. With the staff drooling over you, I'm surprised we only had a half dozen injuries.”
His instinctual concern overrode his conscious thought and he moved closer.
She put a hand on his chest to hold him in place and the belt of her robe loosened, treating him to an enticing look at the creamy skin beneath the navy-blue terrycloth.
“Whoa there, cowboy.” She sighed. “It wasn't me. Do you see any cuts?” She held up her hands and turned them over in the air for him to see that she didn't have any bandages or blood visible. “One of the models turned a little too far around trying to get a look at you, for that she got a pin in her hip and the fitter stuck a pin through her own finger. You’re a dangerous man to have in my workroom.”
“And you were able to keep your focus on your work?”
“Sure!” Her tone was bright, but it was forced. He could hear the subtle hitch in her breathing, the slight elevation in her tone. She was teasing him, and the knowledge only brought him closer to the hunt. “I didn't notice you for a moment when you were across the room. And I definitely didn’t notice how your suit is perfectly tailored for you. I’ll have to take a peek inside later to see how they built it to fit so well.”
He pulled the basket from the boiling water and set it in a bowl of ice water in the sink. That brought him close enough that he pressed up against her side. It probably would have ended right there if she didn't turn to face him.
From his knees to his stomach he was pressed deliciously against her body.
Heat flared within him as he breathed her in, and the movement of his body against hers only spread the heat like a wildfire, flames licking against his skin.
“Goodness,” she sucked in a breath and he saw the tip of her tongue flick against her bottom lip before it retreated.
He wanted to taste her. Wanted to tangle his tongue with hers and draw her into his mouth.
With one hand, he moved the pan off of the burner and set a hand on the counter. “And when I'm this close?”
Her nervous laughter squeaked from her throat. “Well, that's not fair,” she swallowed and he felt his silent growl tremble through both of them.
He wanted to put his lips against her throat and taste her there too.
“You're right here,” she explained, “of course you're going to distract me now.”
“That's not enough.” He saw her eyes widen and he kept a smile at bay. He leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose, and turned slightly.
She moved as if they were dancing, following his lead.
And found herself up against the counter.
He felt her quiver against him and drew in another breath. Under the scent of her body wash he worried that he'd find the sour taste of fear, instead he smelled the spicy scent of her arousal and struggled not to drown in it.
“Oh, wow.”
He felt the tentative touch of her hand on his side and stilled. If she tried to move him back, he'd go.
Heartbeats and seconds passed and she didn't try to move away.
“When you’re this close to me, I can barely think.”
He moved closer still, until his lips brushed against her ear, “And now?”
She leaned against him, her back arching slightly to press every inch of her luscious curves to the hard planes of his body, but he couldn’t seem to get close enough. Neither could she. Natale’s hands slid around to his back and then down as his teeth grazed the edge of her ear. Her fingers grabbed a hold of his shirt as she turned her head, her lips grazing his cheek as his beard tickled her chin.
Salvatore saw her open her eyes, a soft flutter of her lashes before they slid closed again as she sighed against his cheek. He began to close his own eyes, ready to feel her lips against his.
Music blared, the rising tones shrill even though they were muffled by something. Natale hesitated in his arms, her lips pulling away from his cheek as she tilted her head toward the sound. It wasn’t until a voice sang out that she moved. “She works hard for the money!” nearly made her jump free of his arms and with a quick grab to
close her robe, which had become precariously loose, Natale grabbed up her purse from where she’d left it and shoved her hand inside. When she withdrew her phone, she pushed the accept button and cupped the phone to her ear. “What?”
Salvatore turned back to the stove, eager to finish dinner. He hadn’t planned to get that close to Natale tonight, but perhaps that had just been a natural thing. Even with his bear happily dozing inside of him, basking in Natale’s presence, he couldn’t seem to control his need to be closer to her. Just the scent of her was nearly overwhelming. Even as he removed the vegetables from the ice bath he could smell her on his skin. He struggled to keep a tight rein on his control, forcing back his fangs when one scratched into his lip. The taste of blood only served to remind him that he had yet to claim Natale.
Bear instinct warred with his human side, but both agreed on one thing. Everything was about Natale. They would claim her, but they would wait until she understood that she belonged… to them.
“No,” he heard exasperation in her tone, but he also heard a bit of humor, and so he continued his preparations, “I haven’t jumped him yet. Ericka, stop! Seriously!” He thought for a moment that he might let her know that even with her desperately trying to whisper into her phone, even with her hand cupped over her mouth, his hearing was easily picking up every single word. “And I'm not going to get the chance if you keep talking to me… yes, he's here. Here, here. Yes. My apartment.” He saw her slide a glance at him as he put the salmon onto plates, then she turned away. “Oh, come on, Ericka! Yes, he has his clothes on.”
He took the plates to the dining table and waited for her to finish her call.
When she approached the table, he held out her chair. She covered it well, but he could sense how tentative she was. It was plain to see that she wasn’t used to people doing for her. As she stepped up between the chair and the table he gently moved her chair forward until she was seated at the table.
He took his seat at her side, not willing to sit across from her, it was just too far away for him.
She picked up her napkin and settled it in her lap. “Fancy.”