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“Stefan, please,” I moaned. My hands clamped onto his head, and I pulled him closer.
“What do you want? Tell me, Giselle. Use your words and tell me what you want,” he panted while he asked, and fucked me at a fast pace.
“I need you to suck on my nipple. Hard,” I begged him, “I’m going to come, Stefan. Oh, God, I’m going to come.”
Stefan’s hips doubled their speed, and his mouth sucked on me.
Hard.
And his teeth joined in and teased me exactly the—right—way.
Stars exploded behind my eyelids, and I cried out my release. My walls pulsed around Stefan until he finally gave up and shoved himself inside of me one last time.
He grunted and stilled, emptying himself inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight. For some reason, I wanted to savor every drop of Stefan—keep him inside of me.
“Fuck, I love you, sweetheart.” He kissed me, our breath mingling as we tried to get enough air after our exertions.
“I love you, too, honey. So much.”
We laid like that for a while—Stefan still hard inside of me, and my legs holding onto him.
It was wonderful.
Because Stefan was wonderful.
When he finally pulled out and rolled off, he said, “Let’s shower, and then I’ll order room service.”
I smiled and gazed up at him. “We can go back to the market and grab something.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Giselle, I’m not done fucking you. Not even close. You’re lucky I’m feeding you before round two.”
At that, I laughed.
And then I jumped out of bed and beat Stefan to the shower.
* * *
“Why don’tmy crepes turn out this good?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. I mean, I hoped one might suddenly appear. But I wasn’t holding my breath or anything.
“Your crepes are delicious. What are you talking about?” Stefan took another bite of his strawberry crepes. He wiped the chocolate drizzle from his lip.
I shook my head and disagreed with him. “No, these are way better than mine. They’re even better than Evie’s.” I smiled at Stefan. “Do not tell her I said that.”
He chuckled and grinned at me. “I won’t. But you ladies make perfect crepes.”
We ate and talked.
And he made sure to keep my champagne glass full.
And I made sure to empty my champagne glass a few too many times.
But—why the heck not?
I was in Italy for crying out loud. Sitting across from one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. A man who would do anything for me.
A man who had done so much for me. And my daughter.
A man who’d looked after us months before we ever started a physical relationship.
