Somehow, when it’s him, I don’t mind.
Neither of us has mentioned Romeo since the kitchen incident on the first morning of my…relocation, for lack of a better word. But I know he’s not Angelo’s only family.
“Are you sure there isn’t family you need to spend time with tomorrow?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve asked, and he insisted there isn’t anything he’ll be missing tomorrow by being at home with me. I’m not so sure.
“I’m spending the holiday right here. With you. It’s where I want to be for Christmas so that’s how it’ll be.” When I continue to look at him, waiting for more of an answer, he sighs. “Stubborn,” he rumbles before leaning forward and kissing my forehead.
“You would know, Mr. Amato,” I tease him. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
He takes a deep breath and lets out a sound of contentment that echoes through me with recognition. “My parents are on a trip. When they first talked to us about the trip, they said they planned to come back for the holidays but then realized their boys are grown men who don’t have the same wonderment when it comes to Christmas. They laid on the guilt and mentioned it would be different if there were grandchildren in the mix.”
I can’t help but chuckle. It’s hard to imagine an older version of Angelo, and the man who ran the family before handing offthe title of Don, trying to persuade his son to get married and have some kids.
“Hopefully,” he murmurs while his hand slides over my lower abdomen, “we’ll give them a reason to stick around for the holidays next year.”
I let out a low groan of frustration. “You really are moving at the speed of light here, Angelo.”
I’ve tried to argue with him a few times over the last few days about this whole trying to knock me up thing. The man isn’t budging.
Not only is he worse than a mule, but now that he’s locked in on the idea of planting his seed in my womb, he’s become obsessed. I’m sure such a trait is a good thing in a man who needs to be focused on the family business, but it’s overwhelming for me.
“You’ll catch up,” he says it with such confidence that I almost believe it myself.
After clearing my throat, I move off his lap and head toward the kitchen. “I’m going to check on everything. Dinner should be ready soon.”
Am I escaping? Yeah, I fucking am and I’m not even a little bit ashamed of it.
The low rumble of Angelo’s chuckle coming from behind me tells me he’s seen through my flimsy attempt to exit gracefully. My cheeks heat and I have to wonder, not for the first time, if they’ll ever stop doing that around this man.
I’m not normally the type of woman to blush. It’s throwing off my whole alignment and just everything.
When I look at the timer, I let out a soft huff. Not nearly enough time has passed. I feel like a sitting duck in the kitchen.
It only takes a moment for my gut to be proven correct as Angelo sweeps into the room and I’m up and on the kitchen island counter before I even know what is happening. He starts to pull and tug at my clothing, sliding my shirt up and off with precise movements which he’s practiced a lot over the last few days.
The man seems to live to undress me. And I’m here for it.
My soft lounge pants and panties slide over my hips, my man moving and lifting me right where he wants and needs me to get the job done. I gasp when he sets me back down and I glance down at my now totally, and quickly, naked body.
Angelo glances at the timer over his shoulder before looking into my eyes and smirking. “Looks like I need to beat the clock.”
He sinks down to his knees, his fingers digging into my thighs and prying my legs apart. I’m not exactly putting up any resistance, but my man is determined. I can see his focus in the way he’s staring at me.
Expecting him to tease me, I jolt when he dives between my thighs with zero finesse and all feral hunger. His tongue glides up one pussy lip and then down the other. My clit tingles with the need to know exactly what it feels like to get that kind of attention.
But he doesn’t give it.
He teases me.
Always close.
Near.
Dancing closer.
Retreating.
