““As I scramble for my shirt to cover my chest--thank God I’d decided against changing bras--I grumble, “Don’t you knock?” He crosses his arms and rests against the door frame. “It is my room.” My heart pounds in my ears. I should yell, kick him out, slam the door, but I can’t take my eyes off him. Russet skin, solid jaw line, caramel eyes, perfectly messy black hair. Shoulders and arm muscles stretching his baby-blue shirt tight. Is this Bruno or Luca? I adjust the shirt hiding me, equal parts embarrassed and flattered that someone so hot is checking me out. He brushes a hand over the tips of his hair before resting it up high on the doorjamb. I’m not sure I can feel my legs. I can’t believe I’m sharing an apartment with him for the whole summer. Chiara pushes past him into the room and stops, first looking me over, then frowning at him. “You did not knock?” He smirks. “It is my room.” Chiara spouts off in Italian, waving her hands around, and soon they’re pretty much yelling at each other. Then they erupt into laughter and he shoves her shoulder before pulling her in for a hug. “Bruno, this is my friend Pippa. Pippa, my cousin Bruno.” Bruno. The in-with-the-wrong-crowd Bruno. Divinely and supernaturally gorgeous Bruno. And he just winked at me. Not good.””
