Chapter 24 #3
“Will you teach me?” I ask before I can see sense and stop myself.
“What do you want to learn how to make?” he asks. He seems revved up by the thought, like he just downed some espresso.
“Apple pie. I want to make the apple pie for the contest with you.”
“We forgot to ask Luanne for help.” He frowns, his mouth puckering. “Do you think it’s a good idea for us to do that at The Rotten Apple after what happened today?”
“You think the fire department has their eye on me?” I ask, laughing.
“I do, yes.” He grins. “You’re definitely on some watch list. Is Luanne allowed to leave?”
I burst out laughing. “It’s not a prison, Giovanni.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“You enjoyed yourself there,” I say. “I know you did.”
He shrugs. “They were nice. I didn’t know them when they were young, so I could appreciate them as they are now.
But I’m going to be honest with you, cara.
The place itself is a bit of a dump. The cafeteria is a disgrace, the sprinklers don’t work, and the fire alarm should have gone off when there was actually a fire. ”
“I won’t argue with you there. I told you, Rhett—”
“Mr. Mayor.”
I smile in approval of his caustic tone.
“Mr. Mayor owns it, and he doesn’t give a shit about improving it.
It’s not his fault it’s as bad as it is, but he hasn’t done anything to fix it.
He only bought it so he’d have his chance at the rest of Kitty’s money once the foundation funds are out of probate. ”
Giovanni takes a few more bites, his expression contemplative. “We’ll see about that.”
I laugh, setting down my fork. “What are you going to do to him now?”
“I haven’t done anything to him yet,” he says, his tone streaked with menace. “But he’ll know when I’m done with him.”
I sigh as I eat a bite of eggs. “I’m really upset with myself that I find your macho posturing sexy.”
He shakes his head, his eyes glittering with humor, grabs his empty plate and mine, and puts them in the sink. Then he lowers himself into a plank position on the kitchen rug.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing.
His expression is positively rakish. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making sure my abs stay in peak condition so your friends at the old folks’ home will continue to like me. Hop on, Bianca. It’s time for my workout.”
I keep laughing, my hand rising to my mouth to cover it.
“Please don’t cover your face,” he says. “It does me a world of good to see you smile.”
For some reason, his sweet statement dries up the laughter. What we’re doing doesn’t seem like harmless fun anymore. It feels like I’m swimming in waters that are deceptively deep.
But I swallow and say, “You seriously want me to climb onto your back?”
“Yes. I’ve never tried it before, but it sounds fun. Let’s give it a go.”
I can’t help but laugh again, nervously this time, as I walk over to him. “Should I sit on you? Lie on you?”
“You can do with me whatever you like, Bianca,” he says, grinning. “My body is your playground.”
This man knows exactly what he’s doing to me—it’s there in his mischievous smile. But it doesn’t take away from his charm, because he’s fun. Oh God, he’s fun.
I climb onto his back, my body still shaking with laughter, and then run a hand up his muscular back, letting it sift through his hair. “Giddyup.”
I feel him shaking with laughter too as he starts doing pushups, but my own laughter dies quickly, because I like the way he feels beneath me, his muscles flexing, his body hot and hard. I stretch out, wanting to feel more of him against more of me.
He makes a humming sound in his throat as I weave my fingers through his hair again, but he doesn’t pause. He continues pushing himself up, acting as if it’s effortless. As if I weigh as much as a beanbag on his back.
“You’re very strong, Giovanni.”
He grunts. “You’re not going to put me off my game.”
“Is that so?”
He lifts himself up and then lowers down again. “That’s so.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, then reach around his side and run my fingers along his waist, trailing around—
He swears in Italian, and he starts laughing a little. “Oh, the things you do to me.”
“I’d like to do more,” I admit as I run my fingers over him. His dick is already swelling, and I marvel at the way it gets harder beneath my fingertips—and still he’s doing push-ups with me on his back, up and down, up and down.
“Could you do sit-ups while I’m riding your cock?”
He collapses onto the ground, laughing, and I climb off his back, letting him roll over.
“You want to kill me, Bianca?”
“I tried on the stairs that first day. You’re basically indestructible.”
“First do no harm. Isn’t that what they say on the medical shows?”
“That’s technically just for doctors.” I grin at him, rolling onto my side so I can trace his lips, his stubbled cheeks. “What do you say, Giovanni? For the moment, the nonnas are watching Golden Girls, but we don’t have much time.”
“Upstairs,” he says. “The last thing I need is for my grandmother to walk in on us and think I’m an even bigger pervert.”
“Race you up the stairs?” I ask, already getting to my feet to give myself a head start.