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nbsp; “Nothing. I just—oof! Darn it, woman, that is a very sharp elbow.”
“Did you just make a disparaging comment about my ancestry?”
He gave her a look of abject innocence.
“Would I say anything disparaging about a woman who can make a pasta sauce this good? Here,” he said, holding out the spoon. “Take a taste.”
“From that spoon straight to my hips.”
“Your hips are perfect.”
“Liar,” she said, trying not to smile.
“They’re curvy. Feminine. Sexy. In other words, perfect. Now, come on, lady lawyer. Taste.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “That is so-o-o sexist.”
“Stop complaining and taste the … What did you call it? Taste the gravy.”
Smiling, she leaned toward him. Draco whisked the spoon away and captured her mouth with his.
“Mmm,” he said softly.
“Mmm, indeed.”
Draco swept his arms around her. “Mmm is becoming my favorite word.”
She reached up and brushed a dark lock of hair off his forehead. “Mine, too.”
“In that case …”
He kissed her again. And again.
Anna laid her hand against his jaw, felt the roughness of early-morning stubble beneath the tips of her fingers. So sexy. So masculine. It felt that way, too. Against her hand. And, God, against her breasts. Her belly. Her thighs.
Had she really thought she didn’t like that sensation? That, and coming awake in a man’s arms. Why had that always seemed as if it would surely be something to avoid?
Turned out it wasn’t.
In fact, there were definite benefits.
Morning sex. Something she’d never thought was all that movies and books made it out to be. But it was. It was lovely. Absolutely lovely when the man was Draco.
“Such deep, deep thoughts, bellissima.”
She blinked. Draco was watching her with the kind of all-or-nothing intensity that was one of the first things she’d noticed about him.
Liked about him.
Liked very much. Very, very much …
“Anna.” He set the spoon aside, gathered her into his arms. “What is it, cara?”
She swallowed hard, worked up a smile.
“I was just thinking that this is the first time, the very first time in my life, I’m going to have pasta for breakfast.”
Draco watched as she busied herself with the ragù. He took the pot he assumed his housekeeper used for pasta from a cupboard, brought it to the sink and filled it with water.
