Danielle Lori

He grabbed my hips and set me on the island, spreading my legs to stand between them. He slid his hands up the sides of my thighs, and the warmth of them made me shiver.

“It was completely platonic,”

“Nonna,” I started hesitantly, “say you’ve . . . wanted this . . . dog.”

. “I would never get a dog. I have allergies.”

Imagine you weren’t allergic and you did want one, Nonna. But you want your . . . neighbor’s dog.”

“We’re not getting a dog, Elena,” Mamma said.

“Cazzo. I know.”

It’s hypothetical,” I said. “Now, say your neighbor’s dog is so . . . cute, and you want him—er, her for yourself.”

“I think, if I could, I would rather have a cat,”

“Fine,” I sighed. “A cat, then. You want your neighbor’s cat—”

“We’re not getting a cat, Elena,” Mamma said.

Oh my god.

“I know. I said it’s hypothetical—”

“Why does it smell like skunk in here?” Nonna’s brows knitted.

“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box

And I do not. Fucking. Bluff

Nicolas,” I breathed. “This is inappropriate.”

His thumb caressed my neck,