gaps in our wooden window shutters, hitting me directly in the eyes. I groaned, pulling the t

a girl on vacation in Italy. Then, the ancient terracotta floorboards right outside our bedr

li

sound asleep on the twin bed across from me, a faint, peaceful snore escaping her lips, complet

ownloaded. I didn't care if it was peak tourist season. I didn't care if Rome was completely packed. There had to be a spare room, a couch, a literal broom closet available somewh

ugh page after page, my thumbs flying a

. Unavailable for

adn't been updated since the nineteen-seventies, but I didn't care. It was Julian-free territory. The moment I aggressively clicked the b

warning from yesterday afternoon echoed in my ears. Every single decent room from here to Florence really was b

hen, reminding me that I hadn't eaten a real meal s

and a pair of short gray lounge shorts. My hair was undoubtedly a wild bird's nest, but I was too hungry and too det

ing out onto the cool terracotta tiles of the

rd the counter and fr

completely backlit by the golden morning sun str

wearing nex

nse of tanned skin, broad shoulders, and sculpted back muscles that looked like they belonged on a marble statue in the Vatican museum. As

ce of him in such a small space was overwhelming. I stood ther

ping down my mismatched sleepwear and messy hair before

deliberate sip of his espresso, leaning his bare hip against the edge of the kitchen counter. "Because if you're g

dulterated arrogance of his voice replace

ally keeping a strict two feet of distance between us. "I was actually looking to see if you had a

with a mocking half-smile that made me want to throw something at him. "Well, my uncle's apartment. If you can'

n the silver espresso machine instead of his collarbones. "What I can't handle is

space. Our elbows were practically parallel, and the heat radiating off his bare shoulder was comple

o open the chamber. I twisted it to the left, but the metal wouldn't budge an inch. I gr

ulian murmured, his voice infuriatin

al another violent, stubborn wrench. "I know how a coffee mak

r step back, his large, warm hand clamped down directly over mine on the handle of the moka pot. His skin was smooth and entirely too warm, sending a weird, s

of his fingers over mine, the me

tter than the Roman sun outside. I grabbed the coffee grounds, in

of coffee into the filter with a little too much force, cau

fraction closer, his breath brushing the top of my messy hair as he looked down at me. "By the wa

on tightly in my fist. "That is abso

tened up to his full, intimidating height, turning toward his bedroom door. "Have fun making y

ery single step before his bedroom door clicked shut

had been holding since I walked into the room. I looked down at the spilled co

rent kind of war, and as I listened to the sound of his shower turnin