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I wiggled again, undulating my hips to continue teasing the hell out of him.
“You will learn, little dove,” he growled, smacking me six more times. Then without warning, he pulled me into his lap, cocking his head and locking his eyes with mine. “Yes, you will learn.”
I was breathless from the quick action as well as the raging desire. I nipped his chin, biting down until he laughed, rolling my fingers down his chest and tugging on the material.
He snagged my hand, jerking it away before I had a chance to get to his cloth-covered cock. Damn him. He knew how to steal my fun. When he pulled my hand to his lips, rolling them across my knuckles, I was almost ready to forgive him.
Almost.
“We have plenty of time for that. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see the house, of course.”
As he pulled me to my feet, I glanced at the water, shielding my eyes from the sun. “I could live near the ocean or a lake. It’s relaxing.”
“We already own a house on St. Barts.”
“We? I didn’t know we owned any property.”
“When we get married, you’ll have half of everything I do.” His grin was infectious.
I gave him a hard glare, pulling from his hold and planting my hands on my hips. “You haven’t formally asked me to marry you.” I flicked my left hand at him, wiggling my fingers.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’m not a patient woman.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Come on. Trust me.”
“Uh-huh. Said the spider to the fly.” As soon as our fingers touched, it was another moment of bottle rockets going off. I wondered how long that would last or if we’d get to be an old couple forgetting to enjoy every moment together.
Just thinking about that brought a wave of sadness. Family. I’d wanted a family for so long that having Francesco’s sister in my life as well as her two kids was wonderful yet haunting. I hadn’t been able to get our lost little boy out of my mind for long. I knew how hard Francesco had tried to find him. I’d overheard phone calls. I’d seen the blank looks on his face and the way his eyes reflected his deep sadness.
For some reason, we’d yet to be able to talk about it or to acknowledge his death. I’d read somewhere that providing his spirit a place to rest such as a gravestone was a good idea. While I knew in my heart Anthony’s spirit wouldn’t be in the small grave but in my heart, the thought wasn’t a bad one. Maybe I’d talk to Father Saltori when we returned.
He dragged me up the slight hill toward the house to the back door, his expression telling me in no uncertain terms he had something up his sleeve.
As soon as he let go of my hand, he slipped his into his pocket, pulling out a small set of keys, one fitting the back lock easily. As soon as he opened the door, pushing it open, he fumbled with the keys. “You might find a few surprises inside.”
“You are the most amazing if not the most hardheaded man I know.”
He lifted his head, furrowing his eyebrows on purpose. “Moi?”
“Yes, you.” I pushed his chest then walked inside and into a bright, beautiful kitchen with stainless steel appliances and granite counters. On the island was a basket with a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses. I headed it toward it, laughing softly. It was filled with all kinds of goodies. Cheeses. Cookies. Crackers. Potted meats. Candy. The tented card on the side was positioned on top of the envelope, the calligraphy writing on the outside with two words that held such a special meaning.
Welcome Home.
“You bought this house, didn’t you?” When he didn’t answer me right away, I tilted my head. I could swear there were tears in his eyes. Even though he tried to look away, he couldn’t hide his emotion.
“I saw it online and couldn’t resist. I thought we could come here every so often for a quick getaway.”
“I love it. And I love you.”
He grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him. “You better.”
“Or what?”
