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“Tess’s matchmaking skills,” I say. “Do you think there’s something to them?”
“Ten out of ten? Or eleven out of eleven, now. Yeah,” she laughs. “I’d say she’s pretty powerful. Look at us.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Look at us.”
And I lean down and kiss her and this time I don’t pull away for a very long time.
thirty-one
Savage
She stands perfectly still, her back to me. She’s dressed in the sapphire blue party dress she wore that night to her farewell dinner. Seeing the dress again makes me think of that night at her parents’ house, sitting there at the table with her family, wondering what she wanted from me.
The request she made at the Hamlet house, it all seems like a lifetime ago.
The Russos have forgiven us. It turned out that Giovanni had a friend at the Parish who saw Paisley and me lying out together on the shore of the Parish. He told Gio our chemistry was undeniable. That’s why Giovanni had us cut the trip early. And why he pushed the wedding up to be a few days after our arrival.
Giovanni was worried he would lose Paisley and the resulting connection to our family.
Luckily, Gio met another Bachman woman, a guest at the failed attempt of a wedding. When the wedding was canceled and we’d left for home, apparently the Russos and Bachmans could agree on one thing: there is no use in wasting a good party. The two families went to the already set-up reception and partied late into the night.
And Gio and his mystery Beauty spent the evening drinking champagne and dancing.
He’s smitten and I’m forgiven.
Now, we’re living here in my house in the Village. She’s studying toward her goals. I’m hoping the city, and our public libraries, rub off on her. We’ve been spending weekends at the Hamlet. Getting full use of that epic mirror on the ceiling over her bed.
I know I might have to move there one day. The place creeps me out less and less. In fact, I even entered a chili cook-off this Saturday. I’ve been experimenting with marinating peppers for weeks. My Bachman Five-Alarm Chili had better win.
She steps out of her silvery high-heeled sandals. Her fingers reach for the thin straps at her shoulders. She glances behind her, her gaze, sparkling with excitement, catching mine through the doorway.
“Naughty girl. You know you’re not supposed to look.”
Obediently, she goes back to undressing. The straps slip from her shoulders. She gives a little shimmy, the dress falling to the floor. She steps to the right, leaving it there in a puddle.
She wears nothing underneath. As almost always. I suck my breath in hard between my teeth. “My God, you are the most beautiful woman on this earth.”
“Hardly,” she laughs.
“No talking,” I say. “And you absolutely are.”
To me, she is. And always will be.
The thing is, I’m starting to care less and less where we end up as long as we’re together. She stands there, her back to me, fully naked, letting me take her in for a moment. I’m so turned on. More than I’ve ever been with any other woman.
She’s just so sweet, kind, smart, funny. So mine. And she loves me.
She runs a hand down her side, planting it on her waist. Then she gives her ass a little shake. And tumbles into giggles.
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’ll be extra licks with my belt,” I say, keeping the laughter from my own voice. “This is serious, princess. You do what I say.”
She waits a moment, takes a breath, and focuses, getting back into the mindset. A moment later, as instructed and keeping her back to me, she tidies the room, gathering the dress from the floor. She folds it in half, tossing it onto a chair.
I’ve never asked her to wear the soft, black leather collar-like necklace I was so fond of women wearing in the past. Something about having her put that leather collar around her neck like I asked the others to do just doesn’t sit right.
Instead, there’s a red leather jewelry box in my pocket, our last name embossed over the top in gold letters. Bachman’s Jeweler. I bought it the first moment I had a chance to get down to Bachman’s Jeweler when we got home from Italy.
Now, she’s kneeling down on the thick dove-gray rug that covers the hardwood floors in front of my bed, the cheeks of her ass resting on the backs of her bare heels. She wants to cover my gorgeous floors with wall-to-wall carpeting, and this rug was our compromise. It’s not lost on me she skipped the instructions where she was supposed to put her shoes back on before getting in position, choosing cozy over sexy.
