Chapter 13 Sophie
Sophie
The street is quiet, the apartment dark and empty when I unlock the front door after my day at work. No Vin. Disappointment washes over me, but I shake it off. He’s busy. He’s important. He’s Vincenzo Demonio, and I’m just—
Stop it, Sophie.
I peel off my work clothes, my body aching, and head for the shower.
The hot water beats against my shoulders, steam filling the tiny bathroom until I can barely see my hand in front of my face.
I let myself imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like if he were here.
If those massive hands were the ones washing my hair, sliding soap across my skin, gripping my hips and—
Ugh. STOP.
I wrap my hair in a towel and slip into my favorite little silky robe and pad barefoot into the kitchen for water. Filling a glass from a bottle in the fridge, I stand in front of the open door and drink deeply, the cool air on my skin as the robe parts slightly.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
The words are breathed low, but I nearly jump out of my skin and scream as the glass slips out of my hand. I whirl around to see Vin sitting at the table in the shadows, fork frozen halfway to his mouth, eyes locked on me.
“Oh my gosh! VIN!” My hands fly to clutch my robe closed, but when I look down I realize that it’s not at all helpful. The water is making the fabric cling to my breasts, and my hard nipples are making it worse. “You scared me!”
He’s on his feet instantly, coming around the counter with that protective look that makes me freaking melt.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to—here.” He grabs a kitchen towel and presses it against my chest, but his eyes never leave my breasts.
We’re so close I can smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to his suit jacket. I try to take the towel from him but he doesn’t let me.
“Your dinner.” I try to make my voice even to mask my embarrassment. “You like it?”
His gaze finally lifts to my face, something molten and hungry swimming in those dark eyes. “Fucking incredible.”
His knuckles brush the underside of my breast through the wet silk and we both take a half step back, startled. His hand instinctively moves to his pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
“No smoking in the house,” I say, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
Shaking his head at me, he stuffs the pack back in his pocket without complaint, never breaking eye contact. “Yes, ma’am.”
The words send a shot of heat pooling low in my belly, and I head toward my bedroom, laughing and covering myself. “Sorry to be such a downer! Maybe you should go stay with one of your girlfriends.”
“I don’t have girlfriends, princess.”
In my room, I quickly toss my wet robe and pull on a tank top and shorts then head back to the kitchen.
“One of your women, then. Like Valentina.”
“I will never stay with her ever again.” Something in his voice is so hard, that I stop as darkness flashes across his face.
I nod slowly, my wet hair dripping down my back. “Okay, not her but someone like her.”
I don’t want him to go but I’m trying to understand: why is he here with me when he could be with someone like her?
His gaze is heavy, a frown creasing his forehead, so I avoid it by fixing him a drink: Sambuca with three coffee beans floating on top. I slide the glass in front of him as we both sit down at the table.
“Like her, how? A loud cunt? An obnoxious bitch?” He picks up the glass and stares at it like it might bite him. “What is this?”
I can’t help giggling. The look on his face is hilarious. “Con la mosca.”
“With the fly?” His nose wrinkles and I bite my lip to keep from laughing again.
“Yes. Because the coffee beans float like dead flies in the drink.”
“That doesn’t help me understand what you want me to do with this.” But his eyes are almost playful.
“Drink it and chew on the coffee beans. Sambuca has star anise and fennel in it, the coffee beans have caffeine, and those compounds all help with digestion.” I rest my chin in my palm, watching him.
He throws back the liquor in one smooth motion, his eyes never leaving mine, and chews on the beans deliberately, watching me as he swallows.
“What do you mean I’d be with someone like her?”
My cheeks flush hot. “Someone drop dead gorgeous.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, and my heart beats so hard I swear he must hear it in the quiet apartment. “I do like beautiful women. I would say they’re my weakness, but I don’t have any weaknesses.”
The way he’s looking at me, like I could be one of those beautiful women, makes my breath catch in my throat.
I force a smile, trying to keep my voice light. “Lucky you.”
“I make my own luck, princess.” He leans in closer, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
Suddenly nervous, I stand and take his glass and plate into the kitchen
“Would you like anything else?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, but he follows me into the kitchen. When I place the dishes in the sink, he’s behind me, his chest against my back, his hard cock brushing my ass.
“I’ll do the dishes,” he says, his breath hot against my ear.
I laugh. “You really don’t have to.”
He presses his erection against me harder, planting one hand on the counter on either side of me. “You know what the alternative is. Are you offering?”
Oh my gosh. My heart in my throat, I turn to face him. This close, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He’s so gorgeous, it’s hard to breathe.
I open my mouth to speak but the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me steals every coherent thought from my brain.
He dips his mouth toward mine to kiss me, and I want to let him. But I don’t. Instead, I press a finger to his lips, stopping him. His eyes flash surprise.
“Are you just doing this because you’re bored and want to get off?” The words come out more vulnerable than I want.
He pulls back, frowning. “If you’re asking me if I’m in love, the answer is no, princess.”
Heat floods my face and I shake my head quickly. “I didn’t mean bored versus in love. I meant are you bored, actually interested, or is this a pity fuck situation?”
“A what?” He looks honestly confused.
I gesture helplessly at myself. “You know: shy girl, workaholic, no boyfriend.” I gesture at him. “And then you.”
“Then me, what?”
“You look like you should be on the cover of weightlifting magazines. You’re gorgeous. And me, I look like I should be on the cover of puff pastry packaging. As the mascot.” I force a laugh, trying to make it a joke.
His expression shifts, confusion giving way to something that looks almost like anger.
“Thanks. But no, I don’t do pity fucks because I don’t do pity.
” He steps closer again, backing me against the counter, his eyes blazing.
“I am going to fuck you right now even though I absolutely should not because I’ve been staring at your beautiful ass for two days straight, and I can’t concentrate on shit because all I can think about is fucking it. ”
Beautiful?
“Um, I don’t do anal anymore.” I squeeze out from between him and the sink.
“Why not? I only do anal.” He sounds genuinely baffled.
“Bad experiences in the past. Nothing traumatic. Just…” I shrug. “It wasn’t that great, honestly.”
“That’s because you haven’t had your ass fucked by this dick, princess.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I can’t help but laugh.
“Very tempting, but I’ll pass.” I slip past him, heading toward the linen closet. “I can get you some fresh blankets for the couch.”
He grins at me, all confidence, and walks straight to my bedroom, stretching out on my bed like he owns it. “You can sleep on the couch if you want to, but I’m not. Your couch sucks.”
I blink at him from the doorway. “Um, this is a double bed, and we’re a little too big to—”
“Suit yourself.” He sits up and strips his shirt off, revealing tanned skin and defined muscle. Then he shimmies his pants off, tossing them to the floor, leaving only his boxer briefs, and oh my God the outline of his cock is—
“Sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?” He catches me looking. Of course he catches me looking.
I purse my lips, trying to school my features into something resembling composure even though my pussy is literally throbbin. I turn away from him and pick up his clothes. “Thank you, no. But I’m not sleeping on the couch. I have to open in the morning, so I need to get good sleep tonight.”
“Damn those shorts aren’t hiding a fucking thing. Did you wear those for me?”
I glance over my shoulder to see his gaze anchored to my ass, and the way he’s staring at me makes me feel bold. “Maybe.”
He growls—actually growls—low and appreciative, and the sound shoots straight between my legs. I crawl onto my half of the bed, turning on my side away from him, and pull the covers up to my chin.
“Goodnight, Vin.”
The bed dips as he rolls my way and suddenly the covers are ripped off, leaving me exposed. “You’re really going to tease me with that fat ass of yours all night and not let me fuck it?”
I roll over to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Fat? Maybe you haven’t heard, but women don’t love being called fat.”
“Princess, I said your ass was fat. And it is.” He reaches out and smacks it hard, and I yelp at the sharp sting. “It leaves the room three full seconds after you do. Fuck, and the perfect amount of jiggle to it when it’s slapped.”
He groans like he’s in pain and slides down behind me, his hard cock prodding insistent against my ass. He grips my hip so hard it hurts, fingers digging in, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Vincenzo. I said ‘no.’” My voice is quiet, firm, and I don’t look at him.
“Are you mad because I said your ass was fat? It’s a compliment, you know. Especially from me. I have been with a lot of women, a LOT of women, and not one of them had an ass anywhere near as amazing as yours.”
“Very…flattering, but I need to sleep.” I pull the covers back over me, creating a barrier between us.