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“We’d be more than friends if you’d say yes.” He’s right. Massimo asks me every day, relentlessly, starting with coffee, which is definitely a no-go for me. Caffeine of any kind has my anxiety ramping up, so it’s off the plate for me, which sucks because energy drinks, the all-natural kind, were my vice before my life changed. Then he moved on to lunch. The only thing stopping me was the project I just completed. Massimo has yet to ask me to dinner, and I have a feeling when or if he does, I’ll give in.

“What makes you think I want to be more than friends with you?” My imagination runs wild. We’ve only seen each other once, but it was enough to have him seared into my memory. Massimo is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Not even when I was living in the city did I meet someone of his caliber. I mean really, who wears a three-piece suit to the hospital and walks around with an air of confidence like he owns the place, which probably isn’t a far-fetched idea either?

“Henley, I can assure you, one night in my presence would have you begging for more.” His confident side comes out.

“I guess you’ll have to ask me to dinner to see if that will ever happen.” I slap my forehead with my hand, walking right into that when I probably shouldn’t. He’s a single uncle. I’m a mess of a human being, but something about Massimo has me wanting to see where this can lead.

“I’m asking you, Henley. Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” That’s more of a statement than anything.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, sure, I’ll have dinner with you, Massimo.”

“Finally, a month and a half later, after two weeks of what feels like pestering you morning, noon, and night, she says yes.” He rattles off something in Italian I don’t quite understand, but it has me laughing nonetheless. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six o’clock.”

“Massimo, I’ll meet you wherever we’re going,” I attempt, but he’s already telling me, “No, that’s not a date, Henley. That’s a friend-type deal, and if I wanted to be friends, you’d know it. This is something more.”

“Fine, I’ll text you my address.” I may as well give in, or he’ll keep me on the phone until I’m yawning and ready to pass out on the couch.

“Good. Sweet dreams, Henley.”

“Good night, Massimo.” We hang up. There’s a lightness in my chest that I’d like to say I found solely on my own and as a result of the change in medicine—apparently, the dosage wasn’t enough and kept me feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. A part of me also thinks this newfound friendship with Massimo is helping me find my way again.

CHAPTER 10

MASSIMO

“Bellissima,” is the word that leaves my lips when Henley opens the door to her apartment. It’s not even the clothes on her body that have me rocking on my heels, shoving my hands in my pockets to prevent me from cupping her cheeks to take her mouth with mine. The smile on her face, it comes from her eyes, sparkling in their bright green color, reminding me of the pure beauty of the countryside of Italy. A blush appears on her cheeks, and if we don’t leave right now, I’m not sure we ever will.

“Massimo.” She takes a step towards me. The soft tips of her fingers caress my jaw, turning it so she can graze her lips across my check. It’s only then I realize she is on the tip of her toes. Our height isn’t too different, but it would have been thoughtful of myself to at least dip my knees so Henley wouldn’t have to struggle so much.

“If we don’t leave, we’ll not make our reservation or your apartment until the sun rises,” I growl low and in my throat.

“Well, come on, then. You promised me dinner, and I’m looking forward to some authentic Italian food.” Her hand reaches for mine, our fingers locking together, much like she did with Dante, and I now understand the calming effect she had on him. Henley takes the lead, the dress she’s wearing swishing with every step as she sways her hips in a way that you know is all fucking natural.

“I’m coming.” Of course, if I had it my way, she really would be. It’d be with my cock slamming deep inside of her, feeling the way her cunt flutters around me, and making me come right along with her.

“You said that on purpose, didn’t you?” I’m now beside her, slowing my long strides so she can keep up with me in her high heels. The dress she’s wearing may be demure, covering her chest, arms, and torso, but the back is fucking ridiculous, being held by a string, tempting me with her bare skin. And her legs, long, lean, toned, are glistening with some kind of lotion that makes them look that much better. My cock is going to be in a permanent state of hardness whenever I’m around Henley.


Tags: Tory Baker Diamondback MC Second Generation Romance