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.
“Fuck, but you feel good,” he groans as he uses his hold on my ass to lift me up and bring me down onto his length. “I want your mouth, Libby.”
I pull my mouth from his neck and look down at him, teasing his bottom lip with my tongue and watching up close as his eyes heat up and narrow.
“Give me your mouth.” He thrusts up hard, making me gasp, and I bite his bottom lip.
“Antonio,” I whimper in distress when he goes still inside me, holding the tip of his cock at my entrance. “Please don’t stop.”
“Give me what I want,” he orders. My pussy tightens. “Now, Libby,” he warns.
I slide my tongue into his mouth to toy with his. Pulling my back away from the wall, he carries me across the room and settles me on the top of the table in his kitchen, his mouth never leaving mine. I dig the heels of my feet into his back and slide my fingers down his spine to his ass, pulling him against me to tell him silently what I need.
When he pulls back and smirks at me, my pussy spasms again. “You want my cock?”
Ignoring the arrogant tone in his voice, I lift my head off the table and whisper, “Please.”
He doesn’t make me ask again. He slides out and then back in, hard. So hard that the table shakes.
“So tight. Christ . . .” He thrusts his tongue back into my mouth while his hand slides around my hip and his thumb rolls over my clit. “Your pussy is already trying to milk me,” he says, leaning back to look at where we’re connected. “I love watching you take me. I love feeling your pussy clutch me like it’s afraid my cock’s going to disappear.”
His eyes meet mine as the muscles in my lower belly start to get tight. Stars start to dance in my vision. “Oh god.”
“I feel it. Let go, Princess. I got you,” he says gruffly.
I give myself over to the feeling. The heels of my feet dig into his back, and my hold on him tightens as I come apart in his arms. His pace picks up as I come, and I listen to the sound of his orgasm when he follows me over the edge. He drops his forehead to my chest.
Breathing heavy, I wrap my arms around him and keep my legs tight around his hips. I’m not ready to lose our connection in any way.
“I like when you look all sweaty,” I whisper when my breath has stopped coming in short, choppy pants.
“I kinda got that. You jumped me as soon as I walked in the door.” He leans back to look at me, and I give him a pleased smile.
“I bet you gave at least ten women an impromptu orgasm when you were out on your run,” I say, running my fingers along the underside of his strong jaw.
“I only care about your orgasms.” He pushes my hair away from my face and studies me for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the top I have on. “I see you found another shirt. Are you keeping it, like all the others you’ve stolen?”
“It’s not stealing if you know I have them. And yes. I think this is my new favorite. It’s soft.”
“I like you wearing my shirt and nothing else around my place. And I really like the way you greeted me wearing nothing but my shirt. But can I ask how the hell you got so wet before I even touched you?”
“I got a glimpse of you out the window before you came in from your run. I was already turned on by the time you got upstairs,” I admit with a shrug and a laugh. “You’ve turned me into this,” I say.
I lose sight of his face when he drops his mouth down to mine for a deep kiss.
“You won’t be hearing me complain about that.” He lifts me off the table. “I need a shower.”
“Me, too. I’m all wet.”
Hearing him groan, I laugh as he carries me into the bathroom and sets me down so he can turn on the water. Pulling his T-shirt over my head, I don’t drop it in his clothes hamper. I take it to my overnight bag and shove it inside. I think I’ve taken one of his shirts each time I’ve stayed over at his place. I’m starting to get quite the collection.
“If you keep taking my shirts, I won’t have any to wear,” he tells me, tugging my hand and pulling me into the shower with him.
“You have a million shirts. It will take me forever to collect them all.” I smile as his hands start to roam over my skin with a bar of soap that smells like him. “Besides, when you’re working and I don’t get to sleep with you, I like having them to wear to bed at night,” I say.
He smiles softly before touching his lips to mine.
“You get me for two more nights.”
“I know.”
Last night was the first one he had off in about four days. I missed sleeping next to him, feeling him curled around me all night. Really, I just missed him. I’ve gotten more than a little used to having him around, waking up and having breakfast with him, working with him at the pizzeria in the evenings, then going home to his place or mine. It’s been nice—more than nice. It’s crazy how quickly we’ve fallen into a pattern of spending all our time together. He was right weeks ago: this thing between us is working out perfectly.
Well, I kind of still need to tell him about buying the shop. Every time I’ve attempted to bring it up, he shuts me down. So I just stopped bringing it up.
“Are you ready to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” I ask him as I take the soap from his grasp and start to run it over the ridges and valleys of his abs.
“Yeah. I should ask you if you’re ready.”
“It will probably be horribly embarrassing, but I’m excited for you to meet Levi and Wesley. I think you guys will get along.” I look up at him and add, “My mom will probably hint at marriage and babies and all kinds of other things that are way too soon to talk about right now, so don’t freak out when that happens and run for the hills.”
“I won’t run. I’d like to remind you about my mother—it’s not like she hasn’t mentioned grandkids a few dozen times since we got together.”
“True.” Martina has clearly decided that since Antonio and I are together, we need to start popping out grandchildren—the sooner the better. “Our families are insane,” I mutter, dropping my eyes back to my hands as they roam over his smooth skin.
“They are,” he agrees as his fingers skim over my nipples. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do both our parents a favor and start practicing at making those grandkids for them,” he says.
My belly dips.
“Practice does make perfect,” I whisper against his lips when his mouth touches mine, and he smiles while he kisses me.
We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon practicing. By the time we’re done and we have to get to work at the pizzeria, I’m pretty sure we’re both pros.
Chapter 14
DINNER
ANTONIO
Leaning back in my chair, I smile. Dinner with Libby’s family has gone off without a hitch. Fawn’s husb
and, Levi, and Mac’s boyfriend, Wesley, are both men I can see myself becoming friends with. They seem laid-back and cool. Libby’s dad also seems like a good man, and I can tell that he loves his daughters and his wife.
“I really thought Aiden was going to cut off your balls when he found out that you snuck off to Vegas to marry his daughter,” Wesley says to Levi with a smirk.
Levi narrows his eyes at his partner and friend. “Really? Knocking up his daughter without marrying her was better?” he questions with a smirk of his own.
“I didn’t want to marry him,” Mac says.
Wesley transfers his narrowed eyes to his pregnant girlfriend.
Chuckling, I lean back in my seat and slide my arm behind Libby, resting it on the back of her chair.
“So why did you hate Libby?”
At Fawn’s question, everyone around the dinner table seems to go still. All eyes focus on me. I shift uncomfortably, then look down the table at her, wondering what to say. I shift my gaze to Aiden and squirm. Judging by the look in his eyes, I’m thinking he’s about to change his mind about liking me.
“I didn’t hate her,” I say, giving Libby’s knee a squeeze.
“Really?” she says, crossing her hands over her chest. “You didn’t hate me?”
She rolls her eyes, and I want to lean over and kiss the shit out of her to show her that I really didn’t hate her.
“You had a really weird way of showing it,” Libby says. I look at her and notice that she’s frowning. “You were always so short with me, always a jerk to me whenever we were around each other.”
Studying her expression, I let out a heavy breath. “My ex did a number on me, and I took it out on you,” I admit.
Her frown deepens.
“So you were mean to her because of your ex?” Miss Ina says. I look across the table at the older woman. “Are you crazy?” Fighting back a smile, I shake my head. “You must be if you let your past decide your future.”
“My ex was materialistic. Nothing I ever did for her seemed like enough. She only cared about money and designer labels. When I first met Libby, I overheard her talking about a handbag and—”
“You assumed that Libby was just like her.” Miss Ina cuts me off, her eyes turning squinty, her lip curling up in disgust.
“I think that he was scared because he knew in some way that if he gave Libby a chance that he would fall in love with her,” Fawn says.
My heart thumps hard because her words ring true. I’ve really fallen for Libby over these last few weeks, and I know I’m falling in love with her.
“Guys are always running away from love.”
“Not me,” Levi says.
She looks up at him and smiles wistfully. “No, not you. You ran right into love with me while I was the one trying to run away.”
“I still caught you,” he says. I watch him toy with the rings on her finger.
“How exactly were you a jerk to my girl?” Aiden asks, his voice a deep rumble.
My body goes tight.
Shit.
“I—”
“I can’t believe you were a jerk to me just because you overheard me talking about a bag I wanted to buy,” Libby says, sounding pissed. I move my gaze to her. “Seriously? That was your reasoning for treating me like crap? I work hard for everything I have. I have always worked hard for the things I want.” She shakes her head.
She looks like she’s going to toss her napkin on the table and sock me one.
“I told you I made a lot of assumptions about you.”
“Yeah.” She shakes her head, pulling her eyes from mine. “Obviously it showed I was so materialistic right? I mean, I was just dripping in designer clothes, right? I would have you know I have never paid full price for anything that I own. I always look for a bargain.”
“I still would like to know how you treated her,” Aiden says.
From my side, Wesley urges under his breath, “Abort! Abort!” I hear Mac start to giggle.
“Who wants dessert?” Katie asks suddenly, pushing back from the table. “I made a cake.”
“I’ll help you.” Libby starts to stand, but I tighten my hold on her thigh before she can get up.
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. I shouldn’t have assumed that you were like her. I should have taken the chance and gotten to know you.”
“Yeah, you should have,” she agrees, trying to get up once more.
“Don’t be pissed.”
“Family dinners are always so much fun,” Mac jokes.
Libby looks over my shoulder at her sister and glares.
“Princess,” I call, and Libby’s eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. Her jaw ticks. “I was an asshole. The way I treated you had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and where my head was at.” She lets out a huff, relaxes into her chair. “I’m sorry.” I lean over to kiss the side of her head. I hear her sigh.
“You’re lucky you’ve proven that you can be sweet,” she tells me, looking into my eyes. “Otherwise I would leave the table and let my dad have a few words with you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I so would.”
“Your dad’s scary,” I say just loud enough for her to hear.
She smiles. “He also owns more than one gun. You should probably remember that.” She pats my cheek. “Big ones and small ones.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and look over at her father. Would he really shoot me? I remember the glare he aimed at me. He would shoot me without thinking twice.
“What are you two talking about? Speak up so that the rest of us can hear you,” Miss Ina says. I start to laugh and watch Libby do the same.
“Nothing, Miss Ina,” Libby says right before she leans forward to kiss me and let me know that we’re okay.
“I have something I want to tell you,” Libby says.
I’m walking out of the bathroom, where I just got rid of the condom we used. I glance at the clock to see how much time we have before she needs to get ready for work and I need to take off for my run.
“What’s that?” I get back into bed, then drag her across the mattress to me and pull the blankets up and over us.
“It’s about the pizzeria,” she starts.
I feel every muscle in my body get tense, and my arms tighten around her. She’s brought up the pizzeria more than a few times over the last couple of weeks. And no matter how many times I’ve explained my feelings about the shop, I haven’t been able to deter her from mentioning it time and time again. I know she loves the place, and I know she hates the idea of someone else owning it. She probably wants to talk to me about reconsidering taking over from my parents.
“Libby . . .”
“Please hear me out,” she urges, turning toward me and resting her hands against my bare chest.
“I don’t want anything to do with the pizzeria,” I cut her off. “I also don’t want to talk about it,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“But—”
“But nothing, Princess,” I say, trying not to let my voice go up a register. I decide I finally need to make her try and understand. “You didn’t grow up with your parents working there seven days a week, twelve hours a day, Libby. You didn’t spend most of your weekends answering phones and taking orders. You didn’t have to fall asleep in the back room in a sleeping bag because the restaurant closed late on Friday and you had no choice but to stay with your parents. You didn’t miss out on time with your parents because they had a business to run. Your dad didn’t miss your games because he couldn’t find anyone to cover the shop for him. You haven’t watched that place slowly kill your father over the years.”
“I—”
“No.” I cut her off again. I toss back the blankets and get out of bed. “We’re not talking about it.” I walk toward the chair where my clothes are.
“Where are you going?” she asks, getting up on her knees, her eyes going wide with alarm.
“Gonna head out for a ru
n,” I say, pulling on my sweats and a sweatshirt.
“But—”
“You need to get ready for work. You have to catch a cab soon.”
“We need to talk about the shop.” She grabs my hand, and I shake my head to deny her wish.
“We don’t need to talk about the shop. It’s not my problem anymore. It’s done, Libby. Someone else is buying it. Leave it be for once.”
“I—” she starts.
I cut her off with a swift kiss.
“I’ll see you in a couple days. I’ll call you tonight when I get a chance.” I turn and leave the room, ignoring her when she calls out to me again. Grabbing my key and cell phone off the counter in the kitchen, I shove both in my pocket before putting on my sneakers and leaving my apartment. Once I’m out of the building, I run until it feels like my legs are about to give out on me before heading home. When I let myself back into my apartment, Libby’s gone. I knew she would be, which is good. I didn’t want her to leave like that, leave with me upset, leave while she was probably upset also. I know that she feels different about the pizzeria than I do, but she didn’t grow up like I did. She just needs to let it go. Hopefully once the new owner takes over, we won’t have to talk about it ever again.
Chapter 15
I MUST BE DYING
LIBBY
“I’m looking for Libby.”
The male voice sounds familiar. I frown, trying to figure out where I know that voice from and why there is a man here looking for me at all.
“And you are?” Peggy asks.
I quickly wash my hands and rinse them off, then grab a paper towel and start to dry them.
“Walter,” the voice answers as I push through the swinging door. I come to a dead stop when a familiar set of blue eyes rests on me.
“Walter,” I whisper in shock at seeing him again. Especially here, of all places.
“Hey.” He smiles, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, looking a little uncomfortable. “I know I should have called, but when I spoke with Palo this morning, he told me you were buying a pizzeria. I wanted to come check it out, and to tell you congratulations.”
Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life Book 3) Page 15
