21. Alex
Alex
We’d spent the night in my bed, unable to tear ourselves away from one another.
I’d forgotten how much I missed lying next to someone, feeling their skin against mine.
I’d gotten so used to sleeping alone on all those business trips that I just stopped thinking about it.
But spending the night with Leo in my arms, his naked body pressed against mine… It had been nothing short of heavenly.
He’d gotten up first to take a shower in the morning and I was sitting up in bed, scrolling through videos on my phone.
However, he’d left the bathroom door open and the moment he got out of the shower, he toweled off and then just left the towel on the rack to dry.
So I, with a little wiggling, had a completely unobstructed view of his naked body while he got ready.
Currently he was brushing his teeth and I couldn’t stop staring at his flaccid cock as it waggled back and forth as he brushed.
He was saying something, but my mind was fully occupied.
“I can’t understand you with a toothbrush in your mouth,” I said when finally he turned to look at me.
He spit, rinsed his mouth out, and turned back. “I said we should go into town today. There’s a shop I want to check out.”
Damn. I’d been hoping to spend the whole day in bed. Preferably inside him.
“What kind of shop?” I asked instead, trying not to sound disappointed.
“An antique furniture store,” he grinned, leaning against the door frame.
He was completely comfortable in his skin and he had every right to be.
“I saw it as I was walking back from the market.” He gestured to the house in general.
“This place could use a little sprucing up. It’s kinda sparse in here. ”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my mouth. Leave it to Leo to want to go furniture shopping when we’d just spent the entire night doing things to each other that I’d never dreamed of doing with another man.
“An antique furniture store,” I repeated, trying to sound less enthusiastic about the idea than I actually was.
The truth was, I’d never seen Leo light up the way he did when he talked about interior design.
It was his calling after all, and watching him come alive at the prospect of furnishing this place made my chest fill with warmth and affection.
“Yeah,” he said, and his face was already animated in that way that made him look younger. “I used to do this for clients all the time. It’s been forever since I got to just... make my own space into something beautiful.”
I set my phone down on the nightstand and stretched, fully aware that he was watching me. His gaze tracked across my chest, down to my stomach, and I felt the familiar heat build in my lower belly.
“Alright,” I said, getting out of bed and pulling on a pair of shorts. “Let’s go look at antique furniture.”
He beamed at me, and I realized that agreeing to this had been the right call. Not because I particularly cared about furniture, but because Leo cared. And somewhere along the way, making Leo happy had started to become a priority for me.
We walked into town by late morning. The shop was tucked into a narrow street in the old quarter, sandwiched between a bakery and what looked like a closed-up textile shop.
The windows were crowded with pieces and dust. There was a wardrobe with ornate carvings, a small round table with delicate legs, and a mirror with a frame that looked like it had been hand-gilded sometime in the last century.
Leo practically vibrated with excitement as we stepped inside.
The shop was cool and dim, packed floor to ceiling with furniture and objects.
There was the smell of old wood and linseed oil, and dust motes danced in the thin light coming through the front windows.
An older man with wire-rimmed glasses looked up from behind a counter, nodded at us, and returned to whatever he was reading.
“This is perfect,” Leo breathed, already moving deeper into the shop.
I followed him, watching as he ran his hands over pieces with a reverence that bordered on religious.
He’d pull out drawers, check the underside of tables, examine joints and finishes with the eye of someone who actually knew what he was looking at.
It was fascinating to watch, honestly. This was Leo in his element, doing something he loved, and the transformation was striking.
“Look at this,” he called, gesturing me over to a sideboard.
It was beautiful, all dark wood with clean lines.
It looked timeless and well cared for, like it had been well-loved.
“This would be perfect for the dining room. The light would catch the grain just right in the evening. And it wouldn’t be bad to have a place to store things. ”
I came to stand beside him, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. “You know a lot about this,” I said.
He glanced up at me, and there was something vulnerable in his expression. “I used to,” he said quietly. “Before all my clients wanted nothing but the latest modern garbage in magazines. But those clients pay better, and they keep coming back. I tried to do this at home but…”
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Well, you’re doing it now. In a place that’s actually yours. And nobody is going to take it away from you or sell it off while you’re not looking.”
He turned to me, and for a moment I thought he might kiss me right there in the middle of the antique shop. Instead, he just smiled. It was that bright, genuine smile that had somehow become my favorite thing, that filled my stomach with butterflies. He was so beautiful when he smiled like that.
We spent the next two hours going through the shop.
Leo found a low sofa with deep cushions and beautiful carved wooden feet, a pair of brass lamps that he was convinced would be perfect for the living room, and a small secretary desk that he said was exactly what his bedroom needed and was probably over a hundred years old.
By the time we were done, we’d accumulated quite a collection, and I was beginning to understand just how much Leo had been needing this.
“We should probably hire someone to deliver all this,” I said as the shopkeeper started writing up the bill.
“That’s probably not going to be cheap,” he nodded. “But it’s not like I have a truck.”
“Maybe Matteo can do it,” I offered. “He seems the type.”
Leo stopped for a moment, his amber eyes giving me a good once over. “You… You want me to ask Matteo?”
I let out a long sigh. “He’s a handyman. This is what he does, right? Odd jobs or whatever?”
“Matteo? Really?”
“Look,” I grumbled. “I’m trying to be mature here, okay? Cut me some slack.”
Leo nodded, seemingly impressed. “Huh.”
“Just don’t fuck him, alright?”
“Ah,” he grinned. “There it is. That’s what I waiting for.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was a fair reaction. So much for my failed attempt at maturity. Despite my best efforts, I was still jealous as hell when it came to Leo. I didn’t want anyone touching him but me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I can promise you right now that I won’t fuck Matteo when he delivers the furniture.”
“Good,” I replied, leaning into his touch. “Because I meant what I said. You deserve someone that can’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else.” I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his earlobe. “I want you all to myself.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, and I could see the heat building there, the same heat I felt coursing through my veins.
“Then let’s go back to the villa,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Right now.”
I glanced over at the shopkeeper, who was studiously pretending not to hear us while he tallied up the astronomical bill for Leo’s furniture haul. Without a doubt, the total was going to be a small fortune.
“You should probably finish paying for all this first,” I said, though it took considerable effort to pull myself away from him.
The transaction took another twenty minutes.
Leo chatted with the old man in broken English about the pieces, where they’d come from, how long the shop had been in business.
It was clear he could have talked for hours about furniture and restoration and the beauty of well-made things.
I found myself content to just listen, to watch him be passionate about something other than making me happy or taking care of everyone else.
By the time we left the shop with arrangements made for delivery tomorrow morning, the sun was high and hot. The streets of the old town were crowded with tourists and locals alike, the smell of gelato and espresso drifting from the cafes.
“We should get lunch,” Leo suggested, but I could see he was just being polite. His mind was elsewhere. Probably on getting back to the villa and into bed.
“Or,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the direction we’d come, “we could grab something quick and head back.”
He grinned at me, that bright, unguarded smile that always disarmed me no matter what the situation was. “I like how you think.”
We found a small sandwich shop and ordered paninis to go, eating them as we walked back through the winding streets toward the villa.
Leo pointed out little things along the way to make conversation.
Things I never would’ve noticed. He showed me the way the light fell on a particular building, the charm of a small garden tucked behind an iron gate, and the way the handmade tiles on a roof caught the afternoon sun.
He was so much more observant than me. All I could look at was his face, the way his shorts hugged his ass, and how much I wanted those full lips of his on mine.
It struck me, not for the first time, that Leo saw the world differently than I did. Where I saw obstacles and problems to solve, he saw beauty. Where I calculated efficiency, he found joy in small moments. And somehow, impossibly, he’d decided that I was worth his time.