And maybe I have.
But then she thinks back to last night, to the best sex of her life. To the way Anthony keeps looking at her as if she’s eye candy. And she doesn’t care if she’s lost her mind.
I need this. It’s as simple as that.
It doesn’t mean she wants to tell anyone about it yet.
Lindsay asks what she’s been doing and Natalie tells her about watching movies and eating popcorn. At least that part is true.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You sound funny.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” Lindsay considers things. Natalie hopes she sounds convincing. She’s actually a pretty good liar, a skill she unfortunately honed during childhood, but Lindsay is better. Plus, her sister is like a bloodhound if she gets even the slightest whiff that someone isn’t telling her the truth. “I could come home. Oliver and I don’t have any special plans today.”
Natalie yawns, pretending to be bored. “Honestly, it’s not necessary. I was thinking of vacuuming and then cleaning the bathrooms. Though you could come help with that if you want.” Natalie finds housework relaxing, while Lindsay hates it so much it’s practically a phobia.
“Oh, I’ll leave you to it then,” her sister says quickly. “I just don’t want you sitting around feeling sorry for yourself because of that asshole, Anthony.”
“No, I’m fine.” More than fine. “Don’t worry.”
They hang up and Natalie ventures back into the bedroom. That “asshole” is lying sprawled on her bed like a Roman god waiting to be serviced.
“Finally,” he says, with an expression that indicates he’s been thinking about her naked this whole time. “That took long enough.”
A frisson of heat runs down Natalie’s spine.
She comes over and stands by the edge of the bed.
“You can get rid of that sweater,” he tells her firmly. “I’ve seen the goods and I’m not letting you hold out on me anymore.”
Natalie smiles, but doesn’t take off the sweater.
He’s watching her. “You enjoyed that little show didn’t you? Admit it.”
“I enjoyed your surprise. It was worth forcing myself to walk naked.” She can’t help her laughter. “You should have seen your face.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I don’t know why, but it’s really fun to play you like that. I can’t resist doing it for some reason.”
“You’re good at it, that’s for sure,” he mutters. Anthony is quiet for a moment, thinking about something. “Let’s take a shower together,” he says, reaching out for her. “I want to soap you up and do wicked things to you. What do you say, Miss Natalie?”
Her smile grows shy. “I say . . . okay.”
Anthony follows her into the main bathroom at the end of the hall, the one Natalie uses to shower these days. He hasn’t said anything about going home and she wonders if they really are going to spend the whole day together.
I hope so.
A little sliver of fear runs through her at the thought. She doesn’t want to let herself get too attached, but then she pushes the worry aside, determined to enjoy herself. Be more like Lindsay for a change.
“What’s with the sweater anyway?” Anthony asks, after turning on the shower. “I thought you were over your shyness.”
“I guess I’m still a work in progress.” She does feel a little better, but knows she’ll never be as comfortable naked as he is.
“Let me help you with that progress,” he says, coming over. Anthony kisses her and then his hands reach down to untie the belt at her waist, sliding the sweater off completely.
He looks down at her again and shakes his head. “Damn, you have no idea how good you look to me.”
Natalie feels the compliment all the way to her toes.
They get in the hot shower. Anthony stands behind her with the soap in his hands, sliding it everywhere, as she leans back into his hard chest. He’s gentle and thorough, even remembering to clean the area behind her ears. He lingers in a few spots where he can’t seem to help himself—her breasts and ass are clearly two favorites, and between her legs.
“Have to make sure you’re clean,” he murmurs, soaping her breasts again, playing with her nipples. He’s kissing and biting her shoulders from behind, sucking on her skin, making her crazy.
The whole time he has a huge hard-on. She can feel it prodding her from the back and then see it when she turns toward him. Occasionally, she puts her hand on his cock, stroking, but he doesn’t let her keep it there for long.
“I want to take care of you first,” he says.
He has her tilt her head back, getting her hair wet and then shampooing it. His hands feel so good. She’s amazed. No man has ever done anything like this for her before. He’s strong, but gentle, working the shampoo and then the conditioner through her hair, rinsing it away.
“When is it my turn?” she wants to know, sliding her hands over the muscles of his chest down to his tightly ripped abdomen. “When do I get to clean you?”
“Not yet,” he breathes.
They’re both breathing heavily. The whole bathroom is in a cloud of moist steam and they’re only adding to it. After rinsing the soap off, Anthony has her lean against the cool shower wall, where he kisses her some more—his tongue slick and wet, plundering her mouth. And then he slides lower, and lower, until finally, he’s on his knees and Natalie knows what he’s planning. Her stomach is already tense with anticipation.
“Just want to make sure you’re clean everywhere,” he tells her in a husky voice.
He takes one of her legs and lifts it so her foot is balanced on the edge of the tub, spreading her open.
Tenderly, he kisses her thighs, nibbling, working toward the goal. He slides his fingers gently between her legs, still playing with her. She arches against him, wanting to feel his kisses there.
“So eager,” he murmurs.
And then—finally—he leans forward and puts his mouth on her.
Natalie starts to moan. She can’t help it. She even wonders if she should be embarrassed that she’s reacting so strongly. He’s licking her gently, flicking his tongue around and then side to side, then licking some more.
God. He really knows what he’s doing.
What’s worse is she feels like she’s already going to come, but she doesn’t want to. Not yet.
I can’t. It isn’t fair!
She takes deep steadying breaths, trying to control herself. Her hips are rolling and lifting toward him and Anthony grasps them, holding her still.
Natalie’s fingers play in his wet hair as she tries to distract herself. It’s so good. Too good, this delicious pleasure. She has to make it last, has to keep herself on the edge of bliss without going over.
And she succeeds for a little while.
But then she opens her eyes and looks down at Anthony. His head is moving back and forth, and then bobbing slightly as he licks her. And the whole thing—him, the shower, what he’s doing—is just all too much, too hot.
She starts to tremble, her hands grabbing his head. The dam bursts and sensation floods through her.
“Oh, God,” she breathes. “Anthony.”
Clutching his head, she thrusts her hips forward like a wanton, but she can’t control herself. He’s still working her over and it’s lasting forever, and what’s more, she doesn’t want it to end.
When she finally slows down, Anthony is up on his feet, grabbing her—kissing her wildly. His hands clutch her ass as he grinds into her.
“God, I want you so bad,” he says hotly.
She reaches down for his cock and this time he doesn’t try to push her hand away. Instead, he’s saying, “Yes, grab me. Hard.”
Natalie puts both hands on him, squeezing her fingers tight, while he’s kissing her violently, groaning into her mouth.
She slips one hand lower and takes hold of his balls, gripping those too, and then he jerks back, breaking the kiss as he le
ts out a low groan, almost a growl, and she can feel his cock pulsating in her hand as he comes on her stomach.
Afterward he kisses her neck again softly, chuckling.
“What’s so funny,” she asks.
“We have got to buy more condoms.”
Natalie eventually kicks him out of the bathroom to do “girl stuff,” though he wants to stay and see exactly what that is.
“I can help,” Anthony offers.
But she’s not going for it. Instead, he goes back in the bedroom and finds his clothes from last night. Getting dressed, he decides they’ll have to go out soon. They need condoms. And coffee.
He thinks back to the shower after Natalie came. God, he wanted her. She was so beautiful and earthy in her passion. And what’s crazy is a small part of him considered it, considered taking her, drowning in her heat.
Damn.
Yeah, they definitely need to go to the drugstore.
After he’s dressed, he runs a hand over his jaw and figures he’ll ask Natalie if he can borrow a razor. He gets his phone out and listens to his messages. The final one from Gio is a surprise. Apparently, his brother is coming to town next month for the Science Awards.
“You better win that damn medal,” Gio says. “I’m flying all the way from Africa. Plus, it’ll piss the old bastard off.”
No doubt, Anthony thinks in agreement. He reflects back to the conversation he had with his father yesterday. The craziness of trying to convince him to go back to medical school after all this time. It’s like he’s never going to let it go.
Hell, I could win the Nobel and it wouldn’t mean a thing.
Anthony puts his phone back into his jacket and finds himself glancing around Natalie’s bedroom. He doesn’t want to invade her privacy, but at the same time he’s curious about her.
He looks at her nightstand. There are a few novels and some kind of baking encyclopedia. Some earrings and a tube of lip balm. Everything tidy and organized.
Looking down on the floor, something catches his eye. It’s Natalie’s cotton underpants from last night. He picks them up and can’t help himself—puts them straight to his nose.
He goes hard in an instant. That slight tangy scent. They smell just like her. Just how she was in the shower, when he had his mouth on her, so hot and eager. He’s going to be reliving that moment for a while.
He glances at his jacket. He’s tempted to take them home, but figures that’s crossing the line into being a perv.
Still.
Dude, you are not stealing Natalie’s underpants.
Anthony is still holding them when Natalie breezes through the door—wrapped in a white towel, hair blow-dried straight.
She glances at him, smiles, and then turns back when she sees what he’s holding. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sitting here contemplating whether I should steal your panties or not.”
Natalie comes over and stands by him. “I doubt they’ll fit you.”
He snorts with laughter. “I wasn’t planning to wear them.”
“What were you planning to do with them?”
“I, uh . . .” To his surprise, Anthony feels his face grow warm. He’s never shared this particular proclivity with a woman before. “I was going to use them for something else.”
She tilts her head and then her eyes widen with understanding. “Oh.” And then, “Really?” Natalie breaks out in a smile. “That’s so sweet!”
“It is?”
Natalie nods.
“You don’t think it’s kind of pervy?”
“Actually, I do. But it’s sweet, too. It’s both.”
Anthony doesn’t say anything, processing her response.
“You can have them, if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Yeah?” He looks down at the underpants still in his hand and tries to decide if he wants to take them. He doesn’t want Natalie thinking he’s a pervert, though. “I better not.” He forces himself to put them down. “Listen, do you have a razor I can borrow?”
She sits next to him on the bed. “Don’t shave. I like you like this.” Her hand goes up to stroke his stubble.
“Thanks, but you won’t be saying that tonight when I turn into Chewbacca.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I typically have to shave twice a day, occasionally three times in the summer—how’s that for bad?”
“Wow.” Her fingers are still gliding over his jaw. Instead of being repelled by his hairiness, though, she seems thrilled.
He has to admit he likes the enamored expression on her face. For some reason he wants to please her. “All right, I won’t shave. But you’ll only have yourself to blame when my face is covered in fur.”
They’re studying each other. He notices that she put some makeup on, but only a little. He’s dated women who wore a lot, but Natalie doesn’t seem that into makeup. Her blue eyes are pulling at him. Making his chest feel tight again. Oddly, he’s still a little nervous around her, but it’s a good kind of nervous. Like it matters.
“So we’re doing this, right?” he finds himself asking.
“Doing what?”
“This—you and me.”
She seems a little surprised, but then nods. “We are.”
Anthony nods too, smiling to himself. “Good.”
He reaches out for her. He’s still hard from the panties and now from staring at her wrapped in nothing but a towel. Her skin looks dewy and pink. He wants to kiss her, but holds back, not wanting to get himself all worked up again. Instead, he trails his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm.
“Are you going home now?” she wants to know.
He’s taken aback. “Not unless you’re kicking me out. Why do you ask that?”
“Because you’re dressed.”
“I figured we’d go do a condom and coffee run.”
Natalie raises an eyebrow. “Condoms and coffee?”
“Life’s little necessities.”
“You can stay the night again—if you want,” she tells him. “Neither Lindsay or Chloe will be home until tomorrow.”
He takes her hand and plays with her fingers. “That sounds good.”
They eye each other, though neither of them speaks.
“I should get dressed then.” She pulls away from him and stands up.
Anthony kicks back on the bed, figuring he’ll get to enjoy the show, but Natalie is still standing there, not making a move toward her closet. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll need you to leave . . . the bedroom.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m still feeling shy. I’m sorry.”
He studies her. It’s hard to believe she’d still feel this way, especially after taking a shower together. “Why are you so shy, exactly?”
Natalie bites her lip, and looks to the side. “In my marriage—Peter, my ex—he didn’t think I was very attractive.”
Anthony frowns. And then gets angry. Jesus, what kind of dickhead was she married to?
“You know that isn’t true though, right?”
She sighs. “I guess, but it’s hard to accept. I still feel like hiding.”
He sits up. “Natalie, you are hot. Seriously. God, I was ready to steal your panties, just so I can jerk off some more thinking about you.”
Natalie is smiling at him. “That’s so nice.”
Anthony laughs. “I’m not doing it to be nice, trust me!”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re helping a lot. I just need to take it slow.”
“All right,” he says, getting up. “I’ll wait in the hall, but we are definitely going to work on this.”
“Thanks, I’m sorry.”
Anthony goes over to her. “Don’t apologize.” He puts his hands on her cheeks, holding her for a soft kiss. “I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself when you’re with me—ever.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
He grabs his phone and goes to wait out in the hallway.
At first A
nthony leans against the doorframe, answering emails, but after noticing some of the photos on the wall, decides to check them out instead.
They’re mostly family shots with plenty of Chloe as a baby and small child. He notices the same blond guy in many of them and figures it must be Peter.
So this is what that testa di cazzo looks like.
Near the end of the hall there’s a photo of Natalie when she was much younger. She has long brown hair and is wearing some kind of peasant dress. Standing next to her is a guy who looks kind of like George Clooney, along with a young Lindsay.
And this must be the womanizing father.
He keeps browsing and stops when he comes to a more recent photo showing Natalie the way she looked when he first met her.
The photo is taken in the back kitchen of La Dolce Vita. She’s noticeably more overweight than now, but he’s still struck by how pretty she is. There’s a mischievous grin on her face that makes him smile. He can’t believe he didn’t take more notice of her initially. Studying the photo of Natalie, it’s hard to imagine how any man could fall out of love with her.
That’s a strange thought.
The door opens and Natalie steps out into the hall wearing jeans and a purple T-shirt.
She comes over to where he’s standing and sees the picture he’s been studying. “That was taken on my birthday. It’s kind of a running joke that I’m so picky I always make my own cake every year.”
“Yeah? I hope you’ll make my birthday cake this year. There has to be some fringe benefit to dating a pastry chef.”
She laughs. “Of course I’ll make your cake. When is your birthday?”
“Not until June, but it’s one of those milestone birthdays.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m turning thirty.”
“What?” Natalie stares at him with alarm. “You’re only twenty-nine?”
He’s startled by her strong reaction. “Yeah, how old are you?”
She doesn’t answer him though, just keeps gawking. “My God, you’re younger than Lindsay! I thought you were in your thirties!”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you told me! You told me Serena was born when you were in your senior year at UCLA.”
Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) Page 29
