AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What is it?" Her frown deepens, "You going to tell me, or are you simply going to glare at me like I committed an act of treason?"
"It's worse than that."
"It is?"
I nod. "You cut your spaghetti with aknife... Then proceeded to eat it with aspoon," I growl.
"So?"
"So?" I glower, "That's...a fucking crime."
"Umm...That'sa crime?" Her lips tremble. "You are the Mafia and you callthata crime?" She snorts, tries to control herself, then laughs, turns it into a cough, which turns into a real coughing fit. She places her knife and spoon down—finally, fuck—reaches for the glass of water and drinks it.
When she's calmed herself down, and wiped away the tears which had run down her face, she glances at me.
I scowl at her, and she giggles, snorts again. I glare at her. "What the fuck is so funny?"
"N...nothing." She chuckles, then manages to get a hold of herself. "So...you were saying—"
"Nothing," I say through gritted teeth, "if you want to continue to eat your pasta like a philistine, be my guest."
"But I don't." She giggles again, then firms her lips. "No, really Michael, show me how I am supposed to eat pasta."
My glare intensifies and she raises both of her hands, palms face up, "No, I mean it. I want to learn. Promise."
"Hmm." I take in her features, her pink cheeks, her bright eyes, and fuck me, she looks beautiful. No, she always looks beautiful. Now, she looks full of life, happy, relaxed, the way she's always meant to be. My scowl deepens.
The hell am I thinking along those lines? One shared meal and I am harboring thoughts of what...? Wanting her in my life for a longer period of time? Fuck that. That's not why I brought her here. She's here to fulfill a purpose, that's all.
I pick up my fork. "You are supposed to pull aside a small amount of pasta, maybe two or three strands, twirl it on the plate, then carefully lift the fork." I demonstrate to her, "The big mistake people always make is to try to pick up too much at once. It takes practice to get it right." I twirl a few pasta strands with my fork then nod toward her plate. "Now, your turn."
She looks like she is about to protest, and I shoot her a warning glance, "If you are going to eat Italian food, learn to do it properly."
"Fine, fine," she huffs, "don't get your knickers in a twist."
She twirls some of the pasta around her fork, then reaches for her spoon. Porca cane!I make a warning sound at the back of my throat and she glances at me, "Now what?"
I glare at her spoon, then back at her face.
She rolls her eyes, but lowers the spoon back to her plate. She twirls the pasta, then raises the fork with the pasta strands wrapped around the tines. Before she can get it to her mouth, the strands unravel and she lets out a groan of frustration. She looks at me and I nod at her fork.
“Pazienza. Try again.”
She lets out a sigh before turning her attention back to her fork. This time, she grabs fewer strands of pasta, carefully twirls the fork, and slowly lifts it to her mouth. "Happy, now?" She pretends to be irritated with me, but I can tell she’s feeling proud of herself.
"I'll be happier when you taste the food."
She tries the forkful and her expression lights up.
"Good, eh?"
"It’s incredible." She scoops up another forkful, following my instructions to the letter, and wipes the tines of the fork clean, then closes her eyes, chews. A moan spills from her mouth. She swallows and my belly tightens; my dick lengthens, tenting my pants. Fuck. Is everything with this woman an orgasmic experience?
She cracks open her eyes and her gaze locks with mine. She reddens, then scowls, "Like what you see?"
My lips quirk and I firm them. So much sass, so much fire. Why does this girl always seem to get to me?
I rake my gaze across her mouth, down the flushed skin of her throat. "Every bit of it," I murmur.
