Tossed Into Love
Page 27

Libby comes out of my room wearing my shirt and my sweats, which make her look adorable.
“You better come kiss me before you mess with Pool,” I tell her.
She grins at me, stopping in her tracks. Once she’s close, she touches her lips to mine.
“Better?”
I stare into her eyes. “Yeah, baby,” I tell her, knowing she has no idea just how much better I am.
“Good.” She goes to Pool while I search for something for us to snack on.
Finding some crackers in the cupboard—and not much else—I go to the freezer and grab a bag of fries made out of broccoli and potatoes, then turn on the oven.
“I take it you’re not a fan of junk food,” she says as she watches me dump some fries onto a baking pan and place it in the oven.
“With what I do, I try to stay in shape. Part of me staying in shape is putting good things in my body. So, no, I don’t eat a lot of junk food.”
She nods.
“What about you?”
“You saw my feast a few weeks ago when you came to my apartment.”
I did see her feast: chips, candy, takeout. I don’t mind eating crap food every now and then, but I don’t do it often.
“I like junk food.”
“Do you work out?” I ask.
She cringes. “No, I think I’m allergic.”
“Sorry, Princess, but no one’s allergic to working out.”
“That’s what you think. I sweat and get all red and blotchy—I’m pretty sure that’s an allergic reaction.”
Laughing hard, I hook her around the waist and pull her toward me. “That’s just what happens when you work out.”
“Okay . . . ,” she agrees, dropping her eyes to my mouth.
“You get sweaty and red during sex, too, baby. And even if you are allergic to that, you’re gonna have to get over it because I plan on getting you all sweaty and red a lot.”
“Oh . . . ,” she breathes.
I touch my mouth to hers, then lean back, smiling. “God, you’re cute.”
Her lips part, and her body melts into mine.
“I like that you think I’m cute,” she whispers, sliding her hands up my chest.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You are cute—and you’re sweet.”
“I’m glad you think that, too,” she says.
I shake my head. Most women want to be told they’re beautiful, sexy, or hot. But then there’s Libby, happy with being told she’s cute. Not just happy—I can tell the way her face gets soft every time I say it that it means a lot more to her.
“What movie do you want to watch?”
“What do you have?”
I open the cupboard under the TV where I keep my DVDs.
“You like scary movies, too!” she says.
I grin at her as she gets down on her knees and starts to go through them.
“My dad took me to see the movie It when it was playing in Times Square when I was a kid. I was freaked out of my mind for a whole week after watching it, but I wanted to see it again and again. After that, I became obsessed with scary movies,” I tell her as her eyes meet mine.
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Seriously what?”
“That was my first scary movie, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I love that movie. I still watch it every now and then, but it’s not as scary as it was the first time I saw it.” She smiles, then goes back to looking through my collection.
She holds up a movie and picks up Pool when he wanders over to her. Tucking him under her chin, she kisses the top of his head while I put the movie into the DVR player. We settle in on the couch. When the fries are done, Libby adds cheese to the top of hers. We eat on my couch while we watch The Blair Witch Project.
When the movie comes to an end, we get Pool to use the litter, then we both brush our teeth in my bathroom, side by side, before getting into bed.
“Antonio?” Libby says quietly.
I give her hip a squeeze.
“Yeah, Princess?” I ask when she doesn’t say more.
“You work tomorrow night at the fire station, right?” she asks softly.
I look down at her in the dark, not really able to see her facial expression.
“Yeah, tomorrow and the night after. Then I’ll have a couple more nights off. What’s up?”
“Your job isn’t exactly safe,” she says quietly.
My gut tightens.
“I—”
“My job’s not safe, Libby.” I cut her off and pull her up my body until her face is closer to mine. “Life isn’t safe. Nothing is guaranteed, baby. That’s why you need to appreciate every single moment. That said, I work with good people who have my back. I might not be safe . . . but I’m as safe as I can be.”
“Okay,” she whispers, resting her hand on the side of my neck. “I . . . I just want you to know that you shouldn’t do anything crazy like run into a burning building to rescue a cat. I might miss you if something happened and you didn’t make it back out.”
Fuck.
My arms tighten around her. Aside from my parents, no one else has cared about me in a long fucking time. It feels good. Really fucking good.
“I won’t run into any burning buildings to rescue a cat,” I tell her gruffly.
“Good.” She settles into my side, then I feel her lips touch lightly against my pec. “Night, Antonio.”
“Night, Princess.”
I roll toward her so that we are facing each other, toss my leg over hers, and wrap her up in my arms. I feel Pool, who is lying on the bed at our feet, get up and move around before settling back in. I don’t know how long I stay awake holding her, but I do know it takes me a while to find sleep. All I can think is, I should have opened my fucking eyes sooner and seen what was right in front of me. If I had, I could have had this all along.
Chapter 11
IT FEELS A LOT LIKE . . . LIKE
LIBBY
“Mom, we’re here!” I shout as I walk into my parents’ house. Miss Ina, who came with me for dinner, gives me an unhappy look. “What?”
“It’s rude for a young woman to shout.”
“I’m in the kitchen!” Mom shouts.
I grin at Miss Ina, who rolls her eyes. I drop my purse on top of the small table near the front door, then take off my coat and hang it in the coat closet.
I start to help Miss Ina with her coat, but I have to back away from her when she starts to slap at my hands. “Stop fussing over me all the darn time,” she says crankily.
“I was just trying to help you out,” I say, hiding my smile when she glares at me. I don’t know what it is, but I really like annoying the woman. It’s becoming my favorite pastime.
“Was there a lot of traffic?” Mom asks as we walk into the kitchen. It’s where she likes to spend most of her time. She’s always puttering around the kitchen making something, sitting at the island writing out lists, or chatting online with her friends on her laptop.
“Yes,” Miss Ina answers.
Simultaneously, I answer, “No.”
“I see.” Mom smiles, looking between the two of us. “Now tell me again why you couldn’t invite your boyfriend to come along with you?”
“He’s working the next two days,” I say, reminding her of exactly what I told her on the phone that very afternoon, when she asked me to come out to Long Island to have dinner with her and my dad.
“How are things going between you two?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“She didn’t come home last night. I’d say they’re going okay,” Miss Ina informs my mom.
I look down at her and narrow my eyes. “Will you stop spying on me?” I snap at her.
She smirks.
“You didn’t sleep at home last night?” Mom whispers.
I grit my teeth. “I stayed at Antonio’s place.”
“Was it PG?” Miss Ina questions.
I don’t look at her again. “Yes. Very, very PG,” I lie outright.
What we did before we watched a movie was not very PG at all, and what we did when he woke me up this morning was a whole lot less PG than that. It was also amazing. Still, even with how amazing the orgasms were, going to sleep in his arms and waking up with him was the best part of the whole night.