15
FRANCESCA
I didn’t go upstairs after I came home.
I unloaded the groceries and got dinner started, careful not to make too much noise so he wouldn’t wake up before he was ready. I liked knowing he was in the house after I’d been up all night thinking about all the things that could go wrong. It was just a few days ago that he’d been shot in the arm. He never mentioned it or gave any indication he was in agony when he picked me up or put weight on it—like he really was immune to pain.
I made chicken on a bed of fettuccini, making the sauce from scratch and drenching the breadcrumbs in it before melting way too much mozzarella on top. Cooking was a hobby I picked up in the last few years since I was so far away from everything. The dinners my father hosted with the kitchen staff had inspired me.
My father had planned to host a dinner the other night, but after everything that happened with Lombardi, it got pushed back. Now it would be held tomorrow night, which was more fitting since that conflict had been resolved.
“Damn, smells fucking unbelievable.”
I didn’t hear him walk in, so I started to turn around to see him standing there in nothing but his black boxers.
But he pressed his front into my back, his big arms wrapping around me like a cocoon and squeezing me to him. He dipped his head to my shoulder and kissed my neck as he pulled me into him, like he wanted me to feel that steel pole right against my back. “You turn me on when you cook for me.” He moved his hand up my shirt and underneath my bra, squeezing one of my tits. Then he let me go, giving me a hard smack on the ass before he moved to the nearby counter and leaned against it, so fucking hot in his muscles and ink.
He reminded me of a Roman soldier without armor, still a killing machine in just his flesh. It was hard not to stare, especially when I saw him at work. Sometimes I spotted him through my window, and I stood there and watched him for a while…like a creeper.
Maybe Iwasobsessed with him.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but there’s no better way to wake up than to a woman’s cooking. Well…” That handsome, boyish smile moved on to his lips. “I guess there’s one other thing…”
“Well, it’s ready if you want to set the table.”
“Yes, signorina.” He reached for the plates in the cabinet and grabbed silverware and napkins before he set the table. He picked up a bottle of wine from the counter and poured two glasses of water before he took a seat at the table.
I served the pasta on the plates then used the tongs to pile the chicken on top. I gave myself one piece but him two because he looked like he could eat a lot more than I could. I carried everything to the table and sat across from him.
“Cristo, look at that.” He immediately grabbed his silverware and went to town on his food, cutting the chicken, stabbing it with his fork along with some pasta, and placing it in his big mouth. He ate much faster than I could, inhaling his food like an animal. “You are one hell of a cook, baby.”
“Really? I think you’re a little biased.”
“I mean it. If your food sucked, I’d tell you.”
“You would?” I asked in slight surprise.
“Yep. Don’t ask me questions if you aren’t prepared for the answers.”
“Alright, how am I in bed compared to other women you’ve slept with?”
He’d just taken a bite, and he gave a quick choke as he chewed. After a few moments, he got it down, staring at me with shock and amusement. “Damn, you came right at me, huh?” He cut into his chicken again. “It’s different hooking up with a woman from a bar than it is to pay for sex. Because when you pay for it, it’s all about you, right? And when you pick up a stranger, you try to be more…generous.”
“That’s a diplomatic waynotto answer the question.”
He took a bite and chewed. “I’m not done, baby. But I’m not slowing down my dinner because it’s hot and good.” He took another bite and took his time getting it down. “But I can say that I would gladly give up all of that to have this with you because it’s so much better than anything I’ve ever experienced.”
My question had been more of a tease, and I hadn’t expected him to give an answer that was so sweet. “I thought I’d rank pretty low, honestly.”
“Why?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, you’re the one who does all the work.”
He gave a quiet chuckle behind his closed lips as he spun his fork through the pasta. “Oh, baby. It’s my honor to do all the work. A woman can’t be bad in bed when her job is to take what you give her. So don’t worry about that.” He took a big bite of the pasta then set his fork down, chewing his food as he stared at me with that calm and confident gaze.
This guy was too good to be true. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, to find out something horrible about him, but nothing had popped up yet. “You could have had this any time you wanted, so why did you wait so long?”
