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“Why was it stressful? Didn’t the wedding planner take care of everything?” he said, covering the distance between them.
The closer he moved to her, the heavier his blood flew in his veins. Just the scent of her soap and skin...it set up an instant reaction in him.
Blinking rapidly, she clutched the counter behind her. Which stiffened her posture and thrust her small breasts up.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Why were you stressed, bella?”
“Because I was getting married under the strangest conditions that I ever dreamed of and the beast I was marrying thought I had trapped him into it,” she said, thunder filling her voice.
He grinned. “The beast?”
“Yes. Anyway, I know that our contract doesn’t stipulate looking after each other in case of migraines brought on by stupid decisions and showing concern toward each other, so I’m really grateful to you for—”
“Shut up, Clio,” he said, staggered at how easily she had him swinging from mood to mood, like a damn monkey being operated by a switch.
Just fifteen minutes into the day, he had felt a strange warmth in his gut at the way she occupied every inch of the suite that had always been free of feminine intrusion, had given him unrivaled morning wood just by standing in his kitchen and now he was annoyed as hell.
At her and at himself.
All he wanted to do right now was tear up the bloody contract, pick her up, carry her to his bedroom, and peel that denim off of her slowly, inch by inch until he could touch her all over.
“Is the migraine gone now?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said primly.
Was it his arrogance that rankled at being dismissed so well? Or was it the allure of a woman who didn’t immediately fall for him?
Chewing on that errant thought, he picked up one of the coffee cups and took a sip.
The bitter brew on his tongue instantly reminded him of his home, a home he hadn’t visited in so long. “You found a Sicilian blend in Manhattan?” he said, surprised.
A flush claimed her cheeks at his pointed question. “I know a Sicilian coffee stand. I go there every once in a while.”
“My favorite breakfast and coffee. Grazie, Clio.” Leaning next to her, he tried to corral the various emotions exploding inside. Clearing his throat, he offered her an awkward smile. “Take the day easy. Go to the spa or if you want, I can have the pilot take you to...”
Her face fell. “I have no other machinations behind bringing breakfast for you except to say thank-you, Stefan.”
Beneath the caustic tone there was a thread of hurt that struck a chord in him.
Should he be so satisfied that she cared what he thought?
Even as he had stood under the icy jet of his shower on his wedding night, his shredded control an astounding concept in itself, there had been a strange exultation in knowing that he had been the reason she had drunk.
A sadistic streak that he now possessed apparently, in addition to being a mistrusting asshole.
Dio, the woman was turning him inside out.
“I was just surprised, Clio.”
“Because I brought you breakfast? Is that really such a hard thing to grasp that I would want to do something so mundane for you? Are you going to weigh and give a price to every little exchange between us as long as we are stuck with each other?”
Stuck with each other?
That very phrase riled him up to no end.
He had moved so close to her that he could see the green of her eyes darken, could see the pulse in her neck flutter unevenly, could hear the way her breath fell short. “Dio, bella. Shut up or I swear—”
“Or what? Will you add another clause to the contract that I can’t speak unless you give me permission—”
Grabbing her slender shoulders, Stefan slammed her to him and kissed her. It was the best thing to start the morning with.
With a gasp, she fell against him, anchoring her hands on his chest.
Shaping her head with his fingers, Stefan slanted her mouth and nibbled at it, his desire slowly spiraling out of control.
She tasted of syrup and coffee, sweet and bitter, like fresh desire and old memories all blended together to drive him to distraction. The scent of gardenias entered his bloodstream and teased his senses.
He groaned as she sank her fingers into his hair. Turned into stone as she sank those teeth into his lower lip.
If only he could finish what they started in the kitchen...
He couldn’t think of one reason why he couldn’t take his wife to bed. Or why kissing her first thing in the morning, in a domestic setting that should have given him hives, felt so natural.
