I’m already hard again, and I move over her swiftly, taking her into my arms as I position myself to plunge deep inside. She feels so good, so tight and hot and wet, all ready slick and ready for me. This time is easier, better, the two of us moving in time without hesitation. The rhythm builds and I sit upright, going onto my knees in front of her and lifting that peach of an ass up onto my thighs as I drive down into her, watching her throw her head back as the angle drives her crazy.
We cry out together, both of us getting our release as the doorbell below rings, signaling the arrival of our food. I grin down at her, panting for breath, and wipe the sweat off my forehead with the side of my arm.
“So,” I say teasingly, meeting her dreamy eyes. “Looks like one of us has to get dressed and answer the door.”
“Forget the door,” Hannah says, sliding her eyes closed with a smile. “I’m too happy to move.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hannah
My eyes open in a rush, a flood hitting my consciousness as I remember everything that happened last night. The amazing sex, not just my first time but my first three times – after we refueled with the takeout, and both managed to find a little extra stamina needed to finish off the night. We fell asleep then, and though I remember Marco’s arms around me last night, this morning the room is empty.
I look up slightly, moving into a sitting position, and catch the sound of running water coming from behind a door to one side of the room. He must be in the shower. I think about joining him, but then I think about this house, this big, wonderful house that must hold all of his secrets. I don’t want to miss this opportunity, so I grab his discarded shirt from the floor and put it on like the girls in the movies, buttoning it over my bare breasts so I don’t feel so naked.
The bedroom is well-decorated but masculine, and there are only his things in the drawers and by the bed. It’s not exactly a surprise to know that he sleeps alone, but I’m glad to have it confirmed. It’s not as though I really know anything about his life here – all I know is what I’ve heard from my dad, and in the past few days, Marco hasn’t let much slip at all.
I move out into the hallway, trailing my hand along the banister above the stairs as I explore. Besides the massage room, there are another three bedrooms, made up neatly with guest beds, as well as a small bathroom at the other end of the hall. It’s big enough for a family here – can Marco really live here alone?
I’m about to start my journey down the stairs when I hear a light step and look up, to see Marco wrapped in only a towel, water still dripping from his skin. “Morning, bella,” he says, reaching out to cup my chin with both hands.
For a moment I think about my morning breath, horrified, but when Marco kisses me he doesn’t seem to mind. “Morning,” I manage, my brain short-circuiting at having him in front of me in only a towel and not letting me think of anything else to say.
“I like your outfit today,” he teases, fingering the collar of his own shirt. His hand drops down to cup my breast and I shiver, my back arching as I instinctively push my chest towards him, wanting him to touch me more.
But I’m trying not to get caught up in that again, at least not for a moment. I want to talk to him, to ask him the question that’s been on my mind.
“Do you really live here alone?” I ask. “There are so many extra rooms.”
“Yes,” Marco says, dipping his head to kiss my neck. “Those are for my family.”
“Your family?” My heart drops down into my stomach. I thought it was too good to be true. Maybe it is. “Where are they?”
“I don’t have one yet,” Marco says, easing aside the shirt collar to kiss my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting a long time for the right person.”
The way he says it, coupled with the possessive way he holds my shoulder and kisses my skin right after, makes my heart leap all the way back up again, almost jumping out of my mouth. Could he mean… me? Really?
I don’t have the chance to ask more, even if I could get the words together to ask for more. Because Marco has found the one single button holding the shirt together over my breasts and slipped it open, and his towel has dropped to the floor, and all of a sudden every single other thought in the world has been wiped right out of my mind.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marco
After the best wake-up call that could be possible, I laugh and drag Hannah into the shower with me, knowing that all of the cleaning I just did has been undone – and also that there is a way to make getting clean again so much more fun.
Once we’re finally dried off, I grab the bags of clothes we bought yesterday so that Hannah can get dressed. “Here,” I tell her, though I don’t think she could possibly look any better than she does wrapped in one of my towels, her face flushed from the heat of the water that still drips from her hair. “I just have to go make a quick work call.”
It’s a lie, but a white one. She doesn’t need to know the reason I head outside to the garden, sliding the kitchen door closed behind me so that she won’t hear while she gets ready. Because the thing is, ever since she made that comment about the house being too big for just me, I haven’t
