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“Oh, Heaven, I’ll find every nook and cranny you have.”
She tosses her wet towel as I lift up the covers to allow her access to me. “You wear me out, Luc. I’m not sure I have the energy to go again after our afternoon in the mud.”
I throw the wet towel toward the bathroom. “Don’t worry. I want to hold you, that’s all.” She hitches an eyebrow my way. “Baby, your naked body next to me isn’t a hardship.”
“You’re a smooth talker, aren’t you?” She trails off, pushing her bare ass closer to me. “So if we’re not going to have sex, what do you want to do?”
“Let me make myself perfectly clear; if you push that ass any closer to my cock, I won’t be able to resist you.”
Rolling over, she kisses my lips, her voluptuous breasts pressing against my needy body. It’s time to find out more about Anisten Atkins. “Tell me about your family. I know very little, except your father is the brother to my cousin’s wife.”
“Yeah, my grandparents were super religious, and all of their four sons went on to be preachers.”
I pull back, a smirk on my face. “You’re the daughter of a preacher man?”
“Guilty. It wasn’t that bad, just…”
I remember a conversation with Maddox about his girl’s dad. “Wait, he wasn’t abusive, was he?”
Her fingers caress my cheek. “I see you know about Jewel’s dad. But no, my father and mother are loving, always have been. They pray for my sister and me, our souls, because we’re currently not in the church, but we’re a very tight-knit family.”
“And you have a sister?” I let out a long sigh of relief. I won’t be going to jail for murdering her father, it looks like.
“Bristol is a CFO in New York. My parents live in Akron, Ohio.”
“Bristol and Anisten? Not your typical names.”
“Friendshad just premiered, and my dad wanted to name me Rachel because he had a thing for Jennifer Aniston, and my mom allowed him to use her last name, spelling it differently.”
I tickle her chin, and we both begin to laugh. “Your preacher man of a daddy had something for Jennifer Aniston? Isn’t that the sin of lust?” I tease.
“Yeah, but my ma knew he was human and he loves her fiercely. With Bristol, they conceived in Bristol, Connecticut. So, unless I wanted to be named Tampa, my ma compromised.” She places a kiss on the temple of my forehead. “And you? Your family? Tell me everything.” She pauses. “De Santos doesn’t sound Italian.”
“You’d be right, Heaven. Dad’s great-great-grandfather is from Spain. He moved from Spain to Italy and married an Italian woman. The next generation of De Santos men married an Italian woman. It went on like this for three more generations. My father moved to Chicago when he was twenty, where he married another Italian. My mother’s maiden name was Rossi, the Smith of Italian surnames. But, at this point, most of my lineage is almost all Italian, with a few Spanish roots.”
“Tell me about your mom’s family,” she asks.
“My mom is the sister of Maddox’s mom. My dad comes from old money. Dad swooped in with the last name of De Santos, and they lost contact. They didn’t approve of him. Thought he was some punk and would string her along and leave her heartbroken, simply because her last boyfriend had done the same. But they’ve been married for forty-three years. And my mother is the definition of a mama bear; we were always her focus, my sister and me. When we fled the nest, she turned her attention to charities. It’s her life’s passion. One day, you’ll meet them.”
I expect this to scare her but she surprises me with her response. “I can’t wait to meet the parents who raised you, Luca.”
“Goddamn, Heaven. What I want to do to you. And you know why?”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because you’re my good baby girl, you’re my goddamn good baby girl.”
Her body inches as close to me as she can get, and then her breathing levels out and she’s asleep. There’s a connection and a feeling of trust I’ve never shared with another. It’s why I follow suit, secure in each other’s arms.
* * *
I may have taken a submissive out for dinner, a time or two. After all, I’d been good to them. But I find having Anisten on my arm is different, as whatever this is with us continues to build. I want her with me, and on the nights she works late or we’re unable to see one another, my body yearns for her.
Anisten isn’t a fancy dinner sort of person. She loves it and doesn’t mind dressing up for a night on the town, but at her roots, she’s the stay-at-home and binge television shows and order takeout kind of girl. And I’m surprised at six on a Saturday evening that she asks to go out for the night. And it’s not a simple dinner. The girl wants to go ice skating.
It’s busy with the evening crowd. I don’t know if I’ve ever been at the Millennium Park ice rink before, but with the gleam in Anisten’s eyes, I find I’ll tolerate the mass amount of people because it makes her happy.
The lights remind me of streetlamps circling the rink, illuminating the area and giving it a small-town feel in the middle of the big city.
