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“Sorry, should I have given in to fucking your tight ass instead? In my fantasy, you were game for both. Not necessarily in the right order.”
“You’re disgusting.” She’s grinning as she walks away. I note her hips shaking, just a little bit. Like she wants me to look at her ass.
“I’m an optimist.”
“You’re never getting inside my butt. Get that out of your head right now.”
“But there’s a chance I’ll fuck those pretty lips of yours then.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not what I said, but go ahead and dream.” She heads back upstairs and I’m left in the kitchen, grinning to myself.
But my smile fades away as I think about what Saul said.
Do I really think I’m going to divorce her in a year? I stare at the hall, shoulders slumping. Or am I doing this because I think I’ll convince her to stay with me before I have to make that call?
That’s setting myself up for heartbreak. He’s right about that. Allegra wants freedom—and no matter what happens between us, she’s going to get it. That girl doesn’t do things halfway. She’s way too stubborn.
I don’t want to worry about that yet. Saul can fuck himself. I’ve got this under control. I’ll focus on fixing things with Allegra’s family, make her happy, help Renzo where I can, and wait for my life to settle. I’ll figure out what I want eventually. And if I don’t?—
I’ll give her what I promised.
Chapter 21
Allegra
Gian dresses and heads out. “Got work,” he grunts once he’s in a slick, expensive-looking suit.
“What do you mean, work?”
“Renzo’s got some opportunities he wants me to chase down. And my family’s fighting a war. Got to pitch in.”
“Right. Okay. That makes sense.”
“Stay here. Some stuff’s getting delivered soon and I want you to look it over.”
“What stuff?” My eyebrows raise.
“You’ll see. Some of it’s for you.”
“You’re such a mystery. You realize life would be easier if you just said things straight out, right?”
“That’s not fun.” He walks to the bedroom door before glancing back at me. “You look good like that.”
“Like what?” My cheeks turn pink. I’m still in my pajamas. They’re nothing special.
“Simple. I can see your hard nipples through your shirt. And I like it when you blush.”
“Okay, great, I’ll make sure to wear a lot of heavy sweaters around you from now on.”
“If that’s what you want.” He shrugs and knocks his knuckles on the doorframe. “But you really do look good.”
Then he’s gone. What the hell was that? Random compliments are nice and all, but I can’t help thinking there’s an ulterior motive with him. After what happened between us in college, I can’t seem to start trusting him again, like he’s going to randomly screw me a second time.
Which is probably why I shouldn’t have let him go down on me last night. I mean, definitely a bad idea, completely an impulse decision. Not my finest hour in retrospect. I fully planned on suffering through the night on the guest bedroom floor, but then I heard the murder ghost wailing for my blood, and he knocked on the wall and wanted to hear me sing some more, and he told me that story about him as a kid?—
And it felt good. Fine, I can admit it. It felt really, really good when he kissed me. I like touching him and I really like when he touches me. It’s fun to tease and let his hands explore my skin. He’s almost reverent in the way his fingers brush down my cheeks, down my breasts, exploring me like he wants to make every nerve ending sing. And my body reacts like crazy whenever he gets close, which is frustrating and really hard to ignore.
I don’t want to send him the wrong message. Yes, sleeping with him is fun, and yeah, he’s really good at it, but that doesn’t mean we’re more than just colleagues in a really messed-up business transaction. I get my freedom and he gets—I’m not sure what he gets yet. Maybe just the pleasure of my sparkling company. But we both get something and then it’s over. Sleeping together is going to complicate that.
