I could sense it. Even felt it seeping down my skin as his fingers unconsciously played with the fabric of my jeans. The warmth penetrated my flesh from his touches. I couldn’t resist him.

And he knew it.

Silvio swept his gaze over to me. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I…I guess.”

Alfred, aiuta gli ospiti a entrare e assicurati che siano a loro agio.” Silvio said in Italian with his deep gravelly voice. Alfred bowed his head. He then turned his attention back to me, the corners of his lips curling up into a faint smile I couldn’t comprehend. “Shall we?” I hated how his both English and Italian accents did...