Free The Surprise Conti Child by Tara Pammi Page A

firm, exerting just the right amount of pressure.
    She groaned at the sweet relief, the sound wrenching from the depths of her. It was no different from the nurse or doctors who had checked her relentlessly those first few weeks after the accident, she tried to convince herself.
    â€œThanks.” She held his wrists, intending to push him away. And felt muscled sinew, the hair rasping against her palm. Innocent touch turned to searing awareness in a breath. “I’m okay now.”
    When he spoke, steel edged his silky, smooth tone. “Alexis, if you tell me where it hurts precisely and why you whimper with such pain, then maybe I can relieve it a little. If you, however, insist on this prickly attitude, I will touch and prod you everywhere until I can figure it out. And I’m sure neither of us wants that.”
    â€œI haven’t been sleeping well,” she added quickly, “and it’s all catching up with me. It feels like someone’s taking a sledgehammer inside my head.”
    â€œRelax now,” he commanded in that voice of his.
    As if she could ever relax in his presence. As if that relentless peal of her nerves could ever quiet.
    She had no knowledge of how long he was at it, but God , the man could weave magic with those fingers. In more than one way if her memories were right.
    Welcome heat streaked through her temples as his clever fingers pressed just the right amount in the perfect rhythm at all the right places. Up and down, back and forth. Faster and harder. “You’re really good at this,” she pointed out, her voice hoarse.
    â€œLuca always had the worst kind of headaches growing up. He would...be at the piano for days, inhales books on so many different subjects, not sleep through nights at a time, then have raging headaches for days after. It was hard to watch him struggle with it so I learned a few techniques to ease it.”
    Every time his fingers swooped down over her nape, sparks tingled. Languor filled her blood. “Where were your parents?” she asked and then realized she’d never heard any of the siblings mention them. Then or now.
    â€œMy father was not fit to be called one, much less a decent human being, and our mother,” his voice tempered here, “for years, she had her own problems.”
    â€œWhat about Antonio?”
    â€œAntonio is old-school. He thought Luca was pretending for attention and told him to toughen up.”
    â€œYou didn’t?” she asked, her curiosity flaming. Not that it had ever been dormant when it came to this man.
    â€œI knew how much Luca suffered, for all the outrageous tricks he played. I had to do something.”
    She opened her eyes and found the penetrating gray of his. Neck stretched over the leather seat, there was nowhere else for her gaze to land.
    The white collar of his shirt was a stark contrast against the dark skin of his throat. He would feel like tempered steel and rough silk, she knew, her fingers curling around the hand rest.
    Without the formal clothes, he should have looked more attainable. He didn’t. It was the confidence in his eyes, the sense of authority that clung to him like a second skin.
    He seemed as out of her orbit as he’d been seven years ago.
    â€œHow old were you?” She somehow managed to get back on track.
    â€œFourteen.”
    Fourteen years old and he’d been so thoughtful about his brother’s pain.
    Another small facet of his personality and yet all Alex felt was like she was tunneling through darkness. Her relentless awareness of his masculinity and his shabby treatment of her seven years ago only counted against him.
    â€œTell me about the accident,” he prodded softly.
    He peppered her with specific questions, asking for numerous details, about her injuries, recovery period, right down to the names of the nurses who’d attended her.
    With her muscles turning into mush, Alex gave over to his deep voice, and those