Chapter 41
LUCY
Who knew that watching a baby pee on a man could be so funny? Massimo stares down in shock at the stain now forming on his shirt. In one hand he holds the washcloth he insisted he didn’t need to lay over Soren in the first place, and the other just hangs limply at his side.
Soren just lets out a happy sound and kicks his legs and flails his arms, splashing water.
“I told you,” I gasp out, bent over laughing against the vanity where we’ve set up the small bathtub.
Massimo gives me a bland stare before looking at Soren again.
“We need to talk about where you’re aiming, ometto,” he tells him mildly, before getting back to work gently washing him.
Then he slides his gaze over to me. “And your mama and I are going to have a chat about laughing at her man, yes?” There’s a subtle warning in his tone, and a small shiver of excitement skitters down my spine.
I don’t answer him, just smirk, enjoying the ease between us. Now that we’re alone, all the desire I was feeling earlier has come back. Hell, worse than before.
Probably because he’s rolled up his sleeves and all those delicious tattoos are showing on his forearms again.
God, I swear there are few things hotter than that.
Don’t ask me why, especially considering he’s changed into a pair of sweatpants again that outline him in all the right places.
And since he’s insisted that he’s going to do the majority of Soren’s bath to learn, that leaves me the chance to admire him.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll put him to bed early and take you right here over the counter, cerbiatta,” he growls at me, a heated promise in his eyes.
I flush but say nothing. Instead, I look back at Soren, and try to regain my composure.
Though my soaked panties clearly aren’t getting the memo.
Soren turns his head, his little eyes squinting up at me.
I swear he’s plotting his revenge for putting him through this.
If there is one thing he hates, it’s a bath.
“At least it wasn’t me this time, huh?” I tell him lightly as I pick up the small cup and start to rinse off the soap on his skin.
Soren cries angrily, his eyes scrunching up and tears falling down his cheeks, and legs kicking as Massimo and I gently hold his arms.
Massimo looks at me worriedly. “What’s wrong?” He looks like he’s ready to take him out of the bath and fling the little tub across the room.
“He’s just not a fan of baths. Are you?” I coo, despite Soren’s loud cries.
“We’ll get you done in a second, huh?” I’m so used to this it doesn’t faze me anymore, but Massimo still doesn’t look convinced.
He helps finish his bath, but he looks stressed out by the time we’re done.
Soren’s cries are furiously angry and his little face is bright red, which instantly has Massimo scooping him out of the bath and into the towel he has waiting.
Massimo rocks him, speaking in a soft tone, but I can’t make out the words.
I dump the bath water and wipe up the counter.
When I finish, Soren has calmed down a bit, his cries turned to whimpers, and Massimo has him braced against his shoulder, rubbing his back and head turned to murmur quietly to him.
My heart clenches at the sight of them together. I always thought this would be me and Joey, but this was never going to be that. Joey was never going to be the kind of man that Massimo is; the kind of father I want for my son. He was far too selfish.
How did I manage to catch the attention of a man like Massimo Caruso?
I’m not sure, but I’ll be thankful. Even if this is only going to be a short time, despite what Massimo keeps insisting, it’s something I can hold on to for the rest of my life.
A memory to draw up when I need the good in the darkness.
Massimo’s eyes finally come back to me. “Please tell me we don’t have to do this every day.”
I shake my head. “Babies don’t need as many baths as adults. He does better in the shower, but I don’t like to do those unless he has a major blowout.”
Relief covers his face. “Now what?”
I walk him through the rest of the steps until Soren is dried, lotioned, and redressed in a fresh diaper and sleeper. Not that he was pleased to be put through that either. Massimo’s easy confidence is long gone, and he quickly scoops him up the moment he’s finished.
Seriously, who knew the big mafia man would be such a softie?
He suddenly looks over at me and says, “We’ve agreed that we don’t need to do that again for a while. We’re going for the manly smell until we both heal from the trauma.”
I roll my eyes. Alright, a softie and a tad bit dramatic.
I’m starting to think he’s a bit more like Alessio than I initially thought.
“Well, if you’re planning on that, then I’ll be making sure to stay downwind of you for a while.
Trust me, the smells that come out of him sometimes are just downright nasty. ”
“What’s a bit of smell between men, huh?”
“Well, while you two figure that all out, I’m going to grab a shower of my own. While you might all be okay with the stink, I am not.”
The mention of a shower seems to distract him just enough, and his eyes darken.
“Alright. We’ll leave you to it.” He heads for the door but stops just before reaching it, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“Don’t bother dressing after, cerbiatta.
I’m going to have them off you anyway, so why waste time?
” Then he’s gone, leaving me staring after him.
I’m pretty sure that this man wants me to self-combust.
I wait until he shuts the door behind him before I strip down and get into the large glass shower. I lean my head back, letting the water pour over me, trying to get myself under some semblance of control. Excitement bubbles, along with worry. Stupid questions run through my head.
What if it hurts? What if I can’t do what he wants? What if I don’t feel the same? What if I disappoint him?
You’re being stupid. He won’t care, and he’s made that clear. You’re only going to piss him off if you start doubting it now.
Frustrated with myself, I push through my shower, trying to ignore the anxiety.
This is why I hate having time to let the thoughts run through my head.
I also know that part of this is just trauma with Joey, again.
The last few days have clearly shown me that, as good as my relationship with my husband had been at times, it left me with some lasting trauma I need to work through.
It’s funny how a totally different man can make you see things about yourself and your past.
And while I need to deal with it at some point, I don’t want it to influence my life now.
I don’t need to worry that Massimo is going to see me gain a tiny bit of weight and tell me to hit the gym.
That, as my Dom, he has to ensure I’m in peak shape to handle him.
That I don’t embarrass him when we’re at the clubs and other men are looking at us and judging, so that I don’t want to reflect badly on him.
Being young and stupid, I believed Joey and I worked so hard to stay trim and fit. I don’t want to even think about what he’d be saying to me now if he were still here. I know what it would be, and I also know it would be one more nail in the coffin of our relationship.
Massimo won’t be like him. But will he still be attracted to me as strongly as he is now?
He’s surrounded by models and other good-looking women all the time back home.
I mean, how can he not be? He’s hot, rich, and most women would overlook the criminal side of his life if it meant having him in her bed and opening his wallet. How am I going to compare?
Stop it.
The voice in my head is firm, sharp. Alright, so at least my conscience or whatever it is is still alive and kicking.
Or maybe that’s only because now we have Massimo.
Either way, I shut down any thoughts in my head and rush through the last parts of my shower.
Well, other than making sure I’m shaved and smooth.
I have some vanity, and if I’m going to be naked with a man for the first time in almost a year, I want to look my best. Sue me.
Getting out of the shower, nerves jump in my belly. I dry myself off, use some of the expensive but utterly divine lotion that the girls supplied me with, before I get to work on my hair. I doubt Massimo would appreciate a bunch of water dripping on him, or it becoming a rats’ nest.
Once it’s finally down to mildly damp, I look at myself one more time.
My skin is flushed and warm from the shower, glowing from the moisturizer, and my hair is falling down my back in soft, thick curls.
The thick towel is wrapped around me, only my shoulders and collarbone visible, with it stopping just at my knees.
I don’t think I look like the picture of seduction, but Massimo said no clothes, and while I would love to say I have the confidence to walk out there in absolutely nothing, I’m not there. Yet. Maybe someday. Right now, this will have to be okay.
The nerves jump a little more as I slowly approach the door. I know what’s going to happen tonight, and I want it to happen, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to go smoothly. I just have to be okay with that. I have to trust Massimo won’t hurt me or push me too far.
The images of me on my knees earlier instantly flash in my head, the power I felt, and the way Massimo looked. On the verge of losing control, of the desire and pleasure. I want it again, and I want it with him.
Fuck Joey and anything he might have made me doubt or feel before. He’s dead. Harsh as it might be, but he’s not here, and I’m not going to let him ruin anything else.
I open the bathroom door, but when I walk out, I stop, my heart swelling at the sight in front of me.
Massimo is lying on the bed, having changed into a pair of sleep pants and nothing else, scrolling on his phone while Soren lies dozing on his chest; a hand protectively braced on his butt to keep him in place and protected.
Fuck, I’m going to fall hopelessly in love with this man. If I haven’t already.
Massimo looks up, sensing me, and his eyes dilate with pleasure as he takes me in.
“Cerbiatta,” he says quietly, watching me.
Anticipation thrums between us. A quiet knowledge of what’s going to come.
I also don’t miss the pleasure that flashes in his eyes when he sees I’ve followed his instructions, and the submissive part of me fills with pleasure.
“More bonding time for you two?” I manage to ask as I move to the bed. My steps are slow, careful, afraid to shatter the moment.
Massimo smiles. “That’s right. We had all the talks that a man should have with a son.” He winks at me. “Including the very important chat that he has to share you with me, and I would appreciate it if he slept while I spent some time with you. I think we’ve come to an agreement.”
More arousal pools, but I try to stay focused. Not exactly easy considering the man is lying here, showing off all those delicious tattoos and muscles, while also protecting and caring for my son.
I don’t think my ovaries have gotten the message that I just had a baby and am not ready for another one. At least not for a little bit.
“I think he’s already started living up to his end,” I rasp out, voice throaty and husky.
Massimo’s eyes darken, his jaw ticking as he watches me. “Then I guess it’s time I live up to mine, yes?” His voice is low and pure seduction.
Is it possible to melt? Seriously, I feel hotter now than I did in my shower.
He eases out of the bed, balancing Soren carefully, and then he moves over to the sitting area where he’s moved Soren’s bassinet. Still close enough we can get to him, but far enough away that we don’t have to worry about scarring him for life.
Soren barely stirs when Massimo lays him down. Massimo brushes his hand gently over Soren’s head, then turns back to me and the sensitive man is gone in an instant.
My knees shake as his hazel eyes move to mine. He’s gone from dad to daddy in two seconds flat, and a wild part of my brain reminds me that this is exactly what all those book scenes I’ve read have been describing.
I bite back a whimper as he prowls forward. There is no other way to describe it. His steps are slow, deliberate, and I feel just like the deer he keeps describing me as. And he’s the predator ready to eat me alive.
I force myself to stay still and not retreat, even as every instinct is screaming at me to run. If he wants me, he has to catch me.
No, this is not one of your books, Lucy. But maybe some day…
“I believe I told you no clothes, cerbiatta,” Massimo purrs. “Are you looking for some spankings already?”
Spankings? Fuck, I missed those. Well, mostly. Joey used to…
No! No. Joey has no place in this. Get him out of your fucking head. Now.
“Did you expect me just to walk out naked and traumatize Soren?” I ask him instead, watching him, keeping my tone calm, even a tad bit sassy.
“I expected you to follow orders.” His eyes flash with anticipation. “Lose the towel, Lucy. Now.”
Oh, there it is. That tone. The one that has me immediately reaching for the towel and letting it drop to the floor. Some of the excitement dims knowing that I’m exposing all my flaws to him, but I force myself to keep my gaze steady, to try to project some confidence that I don’t completely feel.
His eyes drop as he takes me in, stretch marks, extra pounds and all. I tremble. What is he thinking?