“You know, where you kinda linger so you don’t look like an asshole. But you wouldn’t be an asshole if you left. I just don’t want to make it weird.”
“Well, you’re making it weird by trying not to make it weird.” He pulled back the covers and got out of bed, a Roman god at his full height, his arms the size of my head. He cocked a smile as he headed into my bathroom. “I’ll take a shower with you.” He helped himself to the walk-in shower and turned on the water. He stepped inside without waiting for the water to heat up, which usually took a couple minutes.
I followed him and stared for a second, seeing the water drip down his perfect physique, his hands sliding into his hair as he tilted his head back to let the water stream over his face.
I was lost in my stare for a while, but once I noticed the steam rising toward the ceiling, I knew the water was warm, so I opened the door and joined him.
He turned to me when he knew I was there, his arm circling my lower back and pulling me into him, his hand moving to my cheek and giving it a hard squeeze. He pressed a rough kiss to my lips before he pulled away and grabbed the soap. Then he started to lather it into me, making soap bubbles form over my skin, particularly over my chest. “You have incredible tits.”
“I guess that answers my question.”
“What question?”
“If you’re an ass or a tit man.”
He smirked. “I’m a Francesca man, because you’re the whole fucking package.” His arm returned around the small of my back, and he pulled me into him and kissed me. Kissed me the way he had in bed, hard and soft at the same time, squeezing both of my cheeks in his strong hand.
One thing led to another, and he lifted me onto him and fucked me like that in the shower, bringing my body up and down like I weighed nothing, the water running down on us both.
Watching him hold me so effortlessly turned me on just as much as his fat dick inside me.
When we were done, I headed into the kitchen downstairs to rummage for food. I hadn’t eaten anything sincelunch because my stomach had been in knots waiting for him to come over.
I was looking in the fridge when I heard him enter the kitchen behind me. I assumed he was dressed and ready to head back home since it was almost midnight and he had to be at the vineyard in the morning.
I shut the fridge and turned back to him, but he was in just his boxers, like he had no intention of leaving.
He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to stick around longer than he needed to, so this was a surprise. But then an explanation clicked in my head. He had to work down the road in the morning, so if he drove an hour and a half back to Palermo and then drove another hour and a half back to the vineyard, that would be three hours of driving when he had to be at work in six hours, so it didn’t make sense for him to leave.
That made me feel better.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Always.” He sat on a barstool at the counter. “What do you have?”
“I made some chicken pomodoro last night.”
“You cook?”
“Damn right I cook.”
“Then I’m definitely not saying no to that.”
I took the casserole dish out of the fridge and plated the chicken and the pasta before I microwaved everything. I carried the plates to the dining table along with a bottle of wine and a carafe of water for us to share. I was in a black crop top and little pajama shorts with my slippers, my hair still slightly damp because I hadn’t dried it all the way. And obviously, I didn’t have any makeup on, so I might look completely different to Wolfe without it.
Wolfe eyed the hot plate of food I placed in front of him. “Ooh, this looks good.” With his arms on the table, he scarfed down his food, slicing his fork through the chicken because it was tender enough that it didn’t need to be cut with a knife. He spun the fork around the strands of pasta and shoveled it into his mouth.
I took a few bites of my food while I watched him eat like he was starving. “You really do like it, huh?”
“It’s so good, it turns me on.”
I chuckled like it was a joke.
“A home-cooked meal from a beautiful woman…that’s sexy.”
“Spoken like a true Italian man,” I said. “Imagine if it were fresh.”
“Hopefully I won’t have to imagine for very long.” He put a piece of chicken in his mouth and stared at me as he chewed it.
