Hearing her sweet voice confessing her feelings in Italian, made him happy beyond belief. Lorenzo caught her up in his arms and crushed her mouth with hungry intensity beneath his. As he buried his face in her red curls, Phoebe quivered, feeling weak and strong at the same time.
“I never dreamt that hearing a woman telling me that she loved me could mean so much. And confessing that in my own language is even better,” he confided with roughened sincerity and pure joy.
“And to think that if you had told me rather than Mia,” she could not resist adding, “that you loved me, I'd never have left you.”
“Piccola, don't you ever leave me again,” Lorenzo warned fiercely.
“I wouldn't dream of it...”
She gave him a teasing glance, rejoicing in this new intimacy of mutual trust which allowed her to do and say what she liked.
“Not if it means you're likely to drow