Massimo’s frantic eyes follow my every movement. The tension in his upper body seems to pull tighter. Even in this low light, the pulse point on his neck draws my attention as a slight shiver makes its way through him.
My fingers are trembling as I grab ahold of the elastic of his sweats and carefully pull it down. Massimo’s c**k springs free, enormous and ramrod-straight. So engorged, it looks almost purple. My hand shakes as I wrap my fingers around his tip and start stroking along his length.
Steel, encased in velvet.
“Zahara.” Massimo’s deep, rumbling growl breaks the silence. His head is bent, and he’s gripping both armrests with wood-splitting force. “No.”
“Why not?” I wet my lips. “I don’t see you as a brother, Massimo. Haven’t you realized that by now?”
His hand shoots out, fi
