Page 131 of Ricardo

There is no way to answer that lightly.

“I like being here,” I say.

He leans back against the pillows and brings me with him, pressing my face to his chest. I don't know what time it is, but the light outside the window tells me that it's early enough that I don't have to jump out of bed.

The rain fills the quiet. The room is dim, all deep wood like the rest of the house.. His bedroom is large but restrained. No unnecessary show. Just a wide bed, a fireplace that has by now burned itself out, with a comfortable chair sitting in front of it.

It's a simple room but lived in.

Then he reaches toward the bedside table and picks up his phone briefly, likely just to check his messages.

Reality enters the room with that small movement.

It's just enough to remind me that there is an outside world waiting somewhere beyond this bed.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“A little after six.”

I close my eyes. “Oh.”

“There is no crisis.”

“That you know of.”

“I would know if there were any.” He has already set the phone back down. “No missed calls from Mario. No urgent messages. The city survived without us for an evening.”

“Miracle.”

His mouth curves.

I look toward the windows. “Do you think the roads are clear?”

“I think,” he says, “I regret having picked up that phone. If I knew this barrage of questions was coming, I wouldn't have.”

I lift my head. “Are you always this difficult in the morning?”

“Only when a beautiful woman is in my bed and all she can talk about is leaving.”

My cheeks heat. “I’m not talking about leaving. I just... know it's going to have to happen eventually. So I like to be prepared.”

Without warning, he rolls us so that I am on my back and he is pressing me into the mattress. He takes my hands and stretches them over my head, linking our fingers together.

“Stop planning,” he says. “Stop looking at the door. Stop worrying about what comes next. For one hour, Julia, be here with me. Right here.”

The command is a low murmur against my skin. His hips settle between my legs, and I am achingly aware that he is naked and hard again.

My body is more than ready for him. It wants to do exactly what he says. It wants to be here, right here, with him.

My eye search his face. There is no teasing now. There is a raw intensity there that makes my breath catch.

“Okay,” I whisper.

His hands release mine and move to my hips, pulling me closer, deeper. He lowers his head to my neck, and his mouth is hot against my skin.

“Good,” he murmurs.

His teeth scrape my throat, and I arch into him, a soft gasp escaping my lips. My hands slide up his back, my nails digging into his skin, holding him to me.