Tossed Into Love
Page 31

“You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
His arms tighten around me. God, I want to stay right here forever. Right in his arms, where I feel safe and wanted, free to be me even when being me is a little awkward.
“How about a bath?” he says thoughtfully.
Those stupid tears that I feel pooling in my eyes start to spill over.
“Baby . . .” He uses my hair to pull my face away from where I have it tightly tucked against his neck. “Why are you crying?”
“I . . . then you . . . then . . . that was beautiful. And you’re so sweet,” I blubber.
He sits up with me still in his hold and leans back against the wall.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining this.”
“You’re not ruining anything, Princess.” He smooths my hair away from my face and looks into my eyes. “We shared something beautiful. It’s a little overwhelming. I get that.”
“You’re not crying like a dork.” I wipe at my cheeks, and he smiles a soft smile at me, then kisses my lips. “Gah. I don’t even know why you like me,” I grumble.
His expression turns serious. “I like that you’re a little bit of a dork. I like that you don’t think before you say things to me. I like that you look just as beautiful without makeup as you do with it. I like that you rescue wild cats and have a deeper obsession with scary movies than I do. I like you for a lot of reasons, Princess,” he says.
My body goes still while my chest starts to get tight.
Oh god. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I do love him. No, no, it’s too soon. That would be crazy. I would know. I would totally know if I was in love. Right?
“I . . .”
“You can think about what you’re going to say while I start us a bath.”
He carefully lifts me off him, and I whimper when he slides out. He places a soft kiss on my lips, then pulls the sheet up over me before he leaves me in bed and heads naked toward my bathroom. I listen to him flush the toilet, then hear the water in the tub turn on. I roll to my side and try to get my brain to start working properly. I know logically that sex doesn’t mean love, but what we shared felt like more than just sex. He said he liked me, gave me a list of reasons why. I like him, too—a lot more than I have ever liked anyone. Not only because he’s gorgeous, but because he makes me feel special and cared for. Because he’s sweet and gentle.
I realize I still need to tell him about the shop.
I need to do that now. I can’t let any more time pass.
When he comes back out of the bathroom, he plucks me right up out of the bed and holds me against his chest as he carries me to the tub.
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
His eyes come to me as he steps into the tub.
“Tell me,” he says gently.
I wonder what I should say, how I should say it.
“It’s about the pizzeria,” I murmur.
His body gets tight behind mine as he settles us in the warm water.
“We’re not talking about the pizzeria tonight,” he says firmly.
“I . . .”
“Libby, not tonight.”
“Okay,” I agree reluctantly as he pulls me back to rest against his chest in the tub.
“I just want to hold you. I don’t want to think about anything to do with work,” he says gently.
My eyes close. “Sure. I . . . We’ll talk about it another time,” I agree as my stomach twists uncomfortably.
“Are you sore?” he asks, changing the subject while sliding his hand down my stomach, petting softly between my legs.
I shake my head.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling his lips rest against my shoulder. I know I should do the right thing. I should open my mouth and tell him the truth, once and for all. I don’t. Instead, I take a bath with him, order in food, then laze on my couch with him, watching a scary movie until it’s time for bed. Then I go to sleep in his arms, between floral sheets.
Chapter 13
PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT
LIBBY
“Morning, Princess.” Antonio greets me with a warm smile when I walk out of my bedroom still half-asleep.
When I woke up to my alarm and he wasn’t next to me, I was hit with an unexpected wave of disappointment. I thought he had taken off. Then I smelled bacon cooking, and I couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. I wanted to make sure that he was really here.
“Morning,” I say softly.
I scoop up Pool to give him a cuddle before I go to where Antonio’s standing—shirtless—in front of the stove. I tuck myself against his front, feeling his lips touch the top of my head as his arms give me a squeeze.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
I tip my head back to look up at his handsome face and strong jaw, now covered in a thick layer of stubble.
I slept better than I have in two days. I don’t say that. Instead, I answer softly, “Yes.”
“You sore?” he asks gently.
I feel my cheeks get warm. “Not too bad.”
“I’ll get you some ibuprofen after you eat something.” His fingers slide up my throat, and his thumb and forefinger capture my chin and pull my head back so that he can touch his mouth to mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet, but it still leaves me feeling off-balance. When his mouth leaves mine, I have to once again force my eyes open.
“So . . .” I clear my throat. “What’s on your schedule today?” I let him go and step around him to get a cup of coffee.
“I need to go home to take care of some stuff, then I’m working tonight with you. I figured I’d pack a bag while I’m home. We can stay here after we close the shop—if that works for you.”
“It works for me,” I agree immediately.
He smiles.
I pour some creamer into my coffee, then add some sugar before hopping up onto the counter and taking a sip from my coffee cup.
“Where did you get bacon and eggs?” I ask him when he goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs that wasn’t there last night.
“I ran to the corner store when I got up,” he says, cracking two eggs into a pan. “You really do need to start eating more than takeout, Princess.”
“Takeout is easy when I’m working all the time. I don’t have to lug bags up here or cook. All I have to do is pick up my phone and dial a number to get whatever I want.”
“Yeah, but when your man wants to make you breakfast and all he has to work with is old pizza and Chinese food, it makes it kind of hard.”
My man? Holy cow, he’s mine . . . I mean, yes, I kind of knew that already. But hearing him call himself my man makes it real.
“What?” he asks, studying me.
“I . . . I guess it just really hit me that we’re together,” I admit.
His face softens.
“It’s weird after”—I pause to pull in a breath—“it’s weird after everything that has happened between us.”
Coming to where I’m standing, he forces my knees apart and wedges himself between my thighs. He takes hold of my face, gently, between his large palms.
“This is going to work,” he states, looking into my eyes. “I know with the way I treated you in the past I don’t deserve anything from you, but I need you to know that I’m all in. This is what I want. You are what I want. If I wasn’t sure about us, I would not have made love to you yesterday.”
“Okay,” I agree quietly. My chest starts to get warm, and my heart starts to fill with hope—and something else . . . something that’s a little scary to think about since this is so new.
“This is going to work,” he repeats, kissing me hard.
“This is going to work,” I agree when he pulls his mouth from mine.
He smiles before letting me go and turning back to the stove.
Watching him make us breakfast, all I can think is that I really hope he’s right. I really hope this works.
With tongue and teeth licking and nipping at Antonio’s neck, I pant for breath. I feel his hands roam over my backside and his cock thrust up into me. It’s been two weeks since we introduced sex into our relationship, and in that time, I’ve become a nympho.