Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

Rocco: You like me in a suit.

“I like you every way,” I say to myself.

Rocco: What was that? What did you say?

I look up and shrug.

Rocco: Tell me what you said.

I look directly at him, catching his gaze. I tempt fate. “I love you in every way.”

His eyes narrow before he casts his gaze down to his phone.

Rocco: I didn’t get it. Say it again. Slowly this time.

A knock at my door startles me. I turn back. “Who is it?”

No one answers, so I type a message to Rocco.

Dexie: Someone’s at my door. I’ll be right back.

Another knock greets me on my way across my apartment. I ignore the chiming phone in my hand because I’m ninety percent sure Sophia will be standing on the other side of the door. My time with Rocco will come to an abrupt end once she plops herself on the couch.

I know she wants to talk about her spring line. She sent me at least ten text messages today about it.

“You have zero patience.” I swing open the door on a sigh.

It’s not Sophia.

“Patience is a virtue. I don’t do virtues.”

I smile at the handsome brown-haired man standing in front of me. My eyes flit across his chest and toned stomach under the unbuttoned white dress shirt he’s wearing. “Can I help you?”

“You can tell me that you forgive me.” His hands drop to his hips and the waistband of his faded jeans. His feet are bare.

Where the hell did he come from?

My phone starts ringing. I glance down to see Rocco’s name lighting up the screen. I turn back to the window, but he’s not there.

“I don’t know you.” I point out to the guy in front of me. “What could you have possibly done that I need to forgive you for?”

He glances down at my phone. “You should get that, no?”

I dart a finger in the air. “Give me a minute?”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He leans against my doorjamb.

I slide my finger over my phone’s screen just as the ringing ceases. I look up at the green-eyed stranger in front of me. “I’m busy. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“I don’t,” he says with a confident nod of his head. “I live across the hall from you.”

The loud bang I heard. He’s here about that.

I should point out that it’s only one in a series of noises that have been coming from his apartment the past few weeks.

A ding from the elevator lures both our gazes down the hall. Rocco marches out once the doors slide open.

“Dexie,” he says my name in a heated rush. “What’s going on?”