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“Unless he can fly, Bella.” I press my hand onto the snout of the hand-washing liquid, lather, and clean up.
When I exit the bathroom, Gina’s on her hands and knees, inching her way from the center of the bed. Her neck is extended in an attempt to get a better look. My legs stop moving. Okay, God, if this is the part where she forgives me while crawling over slowly . . .
Gina pulls a pillow in front of her, though not covering half of her shapely figure. “Did you check all the other cabinets and cupboards for rats?”
“First of all, it wasn’t a rat. It was a possum.”
She snorts. “What’s the difference, Santino? Check!”
“Second of all, sweetheart, change your tone.” My mouth lifts into a smile, though my eyes stare her into submission.
Huffing, Gina glances away then squares her shoulders. “Check all the areas, Santino! You brought me to this . . .”
I start for the stairs, tuning out her chatter.
“Santino!”
“Change your tone, then we can discuss the elephant in the room.”
“Oh, sure, your dick in other women’s mouths! An elephant’s worth of cum all over their faces. I saw that too!”
“I don’t remember—”
Something soft hits my back. I turn around, drop my palms onto my waist, and glance down at the pillow. “If I were purposefully cheating on you, Gina, would I record it?”
“So, it was an accident?”
“No, I was dru–”
“It wasn’t an accident.” Tears instantly burn down her cheeks. “How juvenile of me to want to believe you fell, and your dick just sprang into some bitch’s mouth. I’ll never forgive you, Santino.”
“I was drinking—”
“You were drunk? Nice. You, also, learned to dance only for that night, like Cinderella with her crystal slippers.”
“Okay, so we’re having this chat now.” I climb into bed next to Gina, and she rolls over. In her haste to get up, she has to catch her hand onto the nightstand so as not to fall. After such a long day, I laugh at her dramatic antics and let her go. Can’t go too far.
42
Gina
The next morning, I roll over, yet the carpet is a few levels softer than before. I’m back on my side of the bed.Last night, after a mute dinner, I’d showered for hours. Made the tiny bathroom my personal steam room. Then I’d grabbed the comforter since Santino was already in bed and made a pallet on the floor near the fire. Damn, he moved me while I was asleep.
In our short relationship, Santino and I have unspoken sides. At my apartment, his apartment, here, I always have the right side, he has the left.
Oh, crap, my apartment! I was supposed to meet with someone I’d found to sublet. Maybe today, maybe yesterday . . . The woman was getting divorced from her husband all before the holidays. Damn, I’d capitalize on her misery. I get out of bed, stretch, and mosey toward the railing. Santino stands at a tiny coffee pot.
I grip the rail, extending my arms and sighing. “Good morning, Santino. What’s on the itinerary today? As I offered you a fuck already.”
“No!” His Italian voice thickens. “You were ensnaring me.”
“What about a preg—” I choke down the word. Could be why I’ve taken hits below the belt? Snorting, I retort, “The best pussy you ever had!”
“The best pussy, prettiest pussy, tastiest pussy I ever had and will continue to have, GinaMorelli. When you’re calm, I will tell you what happened.”
I gasp. “You can’t honestly want to marry my vindictive ass? You got what you wanted, Santino. You had me. Aren’t guys like you interested in a different piece of ass each night?”
“Guys like me?”
