What’s the point of expressing so much love when there’s no one to appreciate it?
Honestly, I do believe this is one of the worst Valentine’s Days I’ve experienced in a long time.
And it started off so promising.
When the elevator doors open on my floor, I hobble toward my door. I cast one quick, morose frown to Jesse’s right across the hall, then sigh.
It’s only when I have the key in the door that I hear his open behind me.
I turn to find him standing there with a bouquet of twelve pink roses and an apologetic smile.
“You know, us Jersey Boys sometimes need a good knock upside the head when we’re being particularly dense. I wish you’d a reminded me it was Valentine’s Day this morning.”
I have no words.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t use my lips.
Chapter Twenty-One Giuseppe
I know for a fact there was a holiday surcharge on these roses I bought last minute.
But the feel of Honey’s lips against mine, her arms nearly choking me as she circles them round my neck, her body pressed into mine?
It’s priceless.
It was only when I got to work and saw the silly teddy bear with a heart on someone’s desk that I realized how badly I fucked up this morning. I replayed the entire episode over in my head multiple times as I raced back to Norton Place, only to find Honey gone.
Thankfully I had enough brain cells to at least buy something to make it up to her. I didn’t know when she would be coming back and as the hours ticked by, I kicked myself more and more.
I had no idea how she’d respond to the roses.
Based on what she said about this Francis guy (what the fuck kind of a name is that anyway?), I’m sure she was used to much more.
Once again, she surprised me.
Honey pulls away and the smile she meets me with is the icing on the cake. And more than I damn well deserve.
“I take it I’m slightly forgiven for this morning?”
“I suppose so.”
“Enough for you to join me for takeout?”
“Even better.”
“In that case,” I say, lifting her up and backing into my apartment. Honey’s legs circle me and she laughs, that tinkling version that’s like candy to my ears.
Her brow wrinkles as we enter my apartment and she sniffs the air. “Is that…curry?”
“Yeah, and probably a bit of masala and tandoori mixed in. Do you like Indian? My options were limited tonight.”
She laughs. “For good reason. But lucky you, I love Indian. Just don’t comment on my breath when I kiss you.”
As if that would stop me.
I rest her down and lay the roses on the kitchen counter
“I bought a bottle of champagne as well. I don’t know how well it goes with Indian, but it’s either that or, beer and water.”
Honey smiles and tilts her head. “Giuseppe, you just be you tonight. In fact, what would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”
“Honestly?” I say, raising my brow and liking her more and more.
“Yeah…I mean beyond the, uh, typical maintenance requirements of you men,” she says, her eyes darting down to my crotch and back up again. “I think some things are best left a mystery.”
I chuckle. “I’d probably be watching some movie and eating my takeout with a beer.”
“Then I’m totally down to do the same.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I have to ask because this morning—”
“Was my screw up,” she finishes. I just…I think I misread you.”
“How so?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“When I mentioned Francis, I thought…maybe you were judging me. I find it hard to read you sometimes and—”
I stalk over and take her face in my hands. “Honey, the only thing you should have read there is my hating the idea of any other man being with you. I don’t care what your relationship was with him, or how you want to identify it.”
She beams.
“What else?”
Her eyes roll up to the side and a guilty smile touches her lips. “And Emily?”
I wait for her eyes to come back to me so she can hopefully see how easy they are to read right now.
“A distant memory. When you mentioned her, I was going through the motions of putting her firmly out of my brain.”
She reaches up on her toes and I get a nice replay of how she met me in the hallway a moment ago. It’s just as good the second time around.
“I have a better idea before dinner,” Honey says after pulling away.
“What’s that?”
“Allow me to show you.”
When she falls to her knees, it begins to paint a clearer picture. I’m near the kitchen counter and fall back against it as she begins to unbuckle my pants.
“I for one see no reason to wait a whole month for your special day to come around.”
I have no idea what she means by that—my birthday is in August—but when I feel her fingers wrap around my rapidly growing dick, I don’t give a damn.
“Honey,” I gasp when her lips first meet the tip.
She sinks lower and my hands instinctively come to her head if only to have something to hold onto.
The heart beret she’s wearing slides off to the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Honey giggles around my shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body.
My hands come up to grip the edge of the counter instead as she lowers herself almost to the hilt.
I doubt even heaven could feel this good.
Whatever Catholic mental blocks I have over that one implode under her amazing tongue and mouth. I close my eyes and try to relax, extending the enjoyment
