Chapter 13
Romeo
After storming back into the kitchen, I told Dominic to leave, making it abundantly clear he wasn’t welcome back unless explicitly invited by me.
He just shrugged, pushed back his chair and stood, grabbed a cookie off the cooling rack as he passed, shoved the entire thing into his mouth in one go, and gave me a final nod.
Then paused, retreated two steps, took two more cookies for the road, and strolled out the front door like he owned the place.
Once he was gone, I grabbed the bags I’d dumped earlier and headed to my room, desperate to calm the fuck down before I said something I couldn’t take back.
My cooldown period took approximately two hours, and by the time I exited my bedroom, it was safe to say I no longer felt like murdering anyone.
The delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen pulls me in that direction without hesitation.
“Something smells good,” I say as I step inside and spot Lucia at the stove, stirring something in a pot.
“Hmm,” she hums, unimpressed, not bothering to look at me.
I move closer, stepping up behind her. “Is some of that for me?” I ask, leaning in to peek inside.
“I told you I’d make your favourite if you came back. I’m a woman of my word.”
Her tone is clipped, so I can tell she’s still upset with my outburst.
My hands instinctively move to grip her shoulders. I don’t like it when she’s mad at me. “I was always coming back, babe.”
“Don’t call me that,” she mutters.
I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you liked it when I called you that?”
“Huh,” she huffs. “When I like you, I don’t mind. Right now, though …”
I rear back slightly, shocked by her answer. “You don’t like me anymore?”
“Not in this present moment, no.”
I blow out a long breath, trying hard not to lose my cool again. “I’m …”
Her head snaps in my direction and her eyes narrow to slits. “You’re what? Sorry you acted like a complete stronzo? You were unbelievably rude to Dominic. The poor guy didn’t even get to take home the leftovers I promised him.”
“You promised him leftovers?” I shout, my patience fraying fast. “The man ate enough to feed an entire village in the short time he was here!”
She lifts one shoulder and tips that sassy little chin of hers. “He’s a growing boy.”
“He’s a fully-fledged fucking man,” I roar.
“He’s still growing,” she growls back. “I swear he even grew a few more inches while he was here.”
“Yeah, his stomach. I’m surprised he didn’t explode from the amount of food you shoved down his gob.”
She drops the spoon with a loud clunk. It bounces once on the counter before settling with a final, accusing rattle. She spins to face me and shoves both hands against my chest. I don’t move, standing firm because the storm brewing in her eyes locks me in place.
“He ate it all willingly!” she yells, her voice sharp, trembling with fury, and something else that I can’t quite place.
We’re inches apart now. I can feel her warm breath, quick and shallow, brushing against my jaw. Her hands are still pressed to my chest, but she’s not pushing anymore. Not really.
My jaw tightens. “You’re impossible.”
“Well, you’re insufferable,” she fires back, but her voice has dropped to something best described as low and breathy.
Something shifts in the air between us. Neither of us speaks or moves.
“Fuck it,” I mumble under my breath as I finally let the inevitable happen.
I reach for her, my hands threading into her hair as I pull her to me. Her mouth meets mine in a kiss that’s nothing like I expected and exactly what I needed. Fierce, messy, and long overdue.
She gasps, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, her hands slide up, fists curling in my shirt as she kisses me back like she’s been waiting just as long.
The kitchen fades, the fight fades. Everything fucking fades but the two of us, finally giving in.
My hands move down from her hair to her hips as I effortlessly lift her petite body onto the countertop. She opens her legs, and I swiftly move in between them as I devour her mouth like a starved man.
This situation has escalated fast. One minute, we were ready to strangle each other; the next, my tongue is fucking her mouth like it’s nobody’s business.
I’ve never been a huge fan of kissing; it’s far too intimate for me. Too much emotion, too much exposure. But with her, it’s different.
Everything is different.
Her lips are soft but certain, like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and for a brief moment, a rage of possessiveness swirls up inside me.
I know she’s a virgin, but is there a chance she’s done other things, like kissed a man before? That question has me spiralling.
I’m acting like a caveman who thinks he has a right to know her past. I don’t, especially considering I’ve done far worse with the others that came before her. That knowledge doesn’t stop the thought from digging in, sharp and unwanted, though.
I groan into her mouth as I drag her body to the edge of the counter and grind my aching cock against her core. Deep down, I know I can’t take things any further than this, but I intend to push this moment to the very limit. If this is all I’m ever going to get, I’m going to make the most of it.
I’ve always shied away from anything remotely resembling an addiction, but I’m quickly becoming hooked on this woman. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I want it all.
There’s no hesitation in the way she kisses me back. No fear, just heat, defiance, and something that feels dangerously close to affection.
I’m willingly handing it all over because, for the first time in my life, I want to be seen. I want to be cracked open. I want to feel her everywhere. Starting with this kiss, the one I swore I’d never take.
Her hands move from my shirt to fist in my hair, tugging slightly, as my fingertips dig into her flesh. I roll my hips again, and I already feel like I’m on the edge, like if I keep this up, I may blow my load in my pants … again.
It’s maddening that she can make me feel like this. I’ve had plenty of beauties underneath me over the years. I’m not even buried inside her, and she makes me feel more than anyone has before.
This reaction I’m having is precisely why I’ve been holding back. Why I never should’ve let myself cross that line.
Growing up as the son of an addict, I always assumed I carried that same gene, so I steered clear of drugs. I thought that was enough. I never applied that same caution to women. I thought I was safe, but I already know Lucia is going to leave me craving more.
Deep down, I know I need to stop this before it goes any further. Before I do something stupid like bend her over the table and bury my dick in that tight little, forbidden, virgin pussy of hers.
But every time that thought crosses my mind, I hold on a little tighter and delve in a little deeper.
This temptress has rendered me powerless.
Thankfully, seconds later, divine intervention steps in when a sudden hissing sound fills the air.
Lucia is the one who pulls out of the kiss and pants, “Shit, the pasta.” I’m equal parts relieved and incredibly disappointed.
After I lifted Lucia down off the countertop, straightened her top, and adjusted my cock in my pants, we continued with our jobs as if the most incredible kiss I’d ever experienced never happened.
She went back to cooking dinner while I set the table. My mind was fucking spinning.
By the time we sat down for dinner, the air was thick with tension … sexual tension.
Well, on my end anyway. My cock is so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t broken through the zipper of my trousers.
Not a single word has passed between us since. Lucia keeps stealing glances from where she’s sitting, and every time our eyes meet, that soft pink blush on her cheeks deepens.
This shy, almost bashful side of her is something I haven’t seen before, but I have to admit, it’s surprisingly endearing.
I reach for the freshly baked loaf of bread sitting in the centre of the table, tear off a piece, and use my knife to scoop out some of the marrow from the centre of the osso buco Lucia made for dinner, spreading it onto the middle of the slice.
The crust is still warm beneath my fingers, and the marrow melts right in. It’s messy, but comforting in that way only homemade food can be. That rich, buttery texture is easily my favourite part of the dish.
This has always been my go-to order whenever I eat at one of the Famiglia’s restaurants, but I’ve come to realise that even the world-renowned Italian chefs there don’t do the dish justice. Lucia’s homemade spin on it blows theirs out of the water.
“So, fucking good,” I say as I shove it into my mouth.
Lucia’s gaze flickers to me, but instead of the usual smile I get when I praise her, I see something that almost looks like suspicion in her big, brown eyes.
“Where’s my present?” she asks. “Or was the kiss supposed to be it?”
I suck in a sharp breath, and immediately regret it. A chunk of bread lodges in my throat, and I start coughing loudly as I desperately bang on my own chest.
Lucia raises an eyebrow, entirely unfazed by the fact that I’m apparently seconds from death. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says way too calmly for my liking.
I reach for the glass beside me and gulp down some water, swallowing the blockage down the back of my throat. Air rushes back into my lungs as I scramble for something to say.
When I stormed into my bedroom earlier, I was dead set on one thing: marrying her was a bad fucking idea. After I’d calmed down, I convinced myself it was the only way. But after that kiss … now, I don’t know what to think anymore.
This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience. But with feelings creeping in, it could easily turn into one big fucking mess.
I clear my throat, trying to think of the right words to say. “That kiss was—”
Lucia raises her hand—the one that’s holding her fork—pointing it in my direction. “I’d think very carefully before you finish that sentence.”
I arch an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure of where she’s going with this.