Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1) - Page 61

Dexie: I think I can handle a zipper.

His gaze drops to his phone. His fingers fly over the screen.

Rocco: It’s an open offer. I’m also great at braiding hair, painting toenails, staring at the most beautiful woman on the planet...

I read the message twice, focusing on the last few words.

Another text appears.

Rocco: I’m going to take a shower. Call me if you need ANYTHING.

I press my phone against my chest as I steal one last look at him.

***

Three hours, and one cute red suede clutch later I type out an email to the client who has been waiting for this treasure.

It’s done and as fabulous as I knew it would be.

I set it on the edge of my workstation and take a picture of it to attach to the email. The woman who ordered it lives in Boston and I want her to see it as soon as she wakes up tomorrow morning.

I press send and set my phone down.

I turn around to face my windows. As tempted as I was to try and catch a glimpse of Rocco after his shower, I resisted the urge.

Once I started sewing the purse, work consumed me.

It’s always that way once a design starts taking its physical shape. I love the sprint to the finish line.

I take a few tentative steps closer to my windows, but Rocco’s apartment is dark. It’s so late that he must have gone to sleep.

I lean my forehead against the glass and draw in a deep breath.

The kiss we shared on the street sparked a need inside of me. It’s different than what I felt when we kissed in his apartment last night. Each touch of his lips to mine fuels my desire for the man.

I gasp when a light pops on inside his apartment.

My heart rate kicks up when I spot him moving in his living room.

Turning to face me, I get my first look at him. He’s wearing dark boxer briefs and nothing else.

His hair is a tangled mess. He looks just woken or just fucked.

We stare at each other, the energy flowing between us snapping with the raw power of want.

Life is about taking chances; diving off cliffs with the uncertainty of what’s waiting but the belief that fate will be there to catch you.

I need to take this chance. I have to believe that whatever happens, my heart and my business will survive.

I lift my hand to the center of my chest, tap it twice through the thin fabric of my dress, and point at him.

An impossibly sexy grin takes over his mouth as he nods and motions with a curl of his fingers for me to go to him.

I do.

Chapter 36

Rocco

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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