I groaned into my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Lips landed on my forehead. “I was actually craving breakfast for dinner, but you wanted pasta, so this way we both win.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
Unable to hide his smirk, he asked, “Is it working?”
I shoved at his shoulder, creating enough space between us that I was able to ease off the kitchen stool. Though I did sovery gingerly because I was still sore as fuck. “Let me make you something.”
“Whoa, not so fast.” One of Gio’s strong arms looped around my waist, hauling me to his chest. “You can barely walk, Rory. There’s no way in Hell I’m letting you cook for me.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I just fed you, so you know I’m more than capable of feeding myself. You’re not winning this argument, so don’t even try.”
My eyes lifted toward the ceiling, and I huffed, “Fine.”
Against my ear, he asked, “If I let you go, do you promise to sit back down?”
“Yes, master.” There was no limit to the amount of sass that leaked into my tone.
Clearly, it didn’t bother him to have seen the horror show that had taken place between my thighs only a few days ago, because his cock began to swell against my ass.
Voice husky, he all but growled, “Count your lucky stars that cum isn’t nutrient-rich enough for your current high-caloric diet, or else that’s all you’d be ingesting until you get a handle on that smart mouth.”
Turning in his arms, I gasped at the lust burning bright in his dark eyes. And damn, if it didn’t make me want to drop to my knees before him in the middle of the kitchen.
Jaw clenched, Gio gritted out. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”
I cocked my hip. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Rory.” His grip on my waist tightened when I purposely rubbed against his erection.
By all rights, sexual acts should be the last thing on my mind so soon after having a baby. There were plenty of women who couldn’t stand the thought of a man touching them for months afterward. Though technically, the dirty deed I currentlycontemplated involved giving pleasure instead of receiving. His hands didn’t even factor into the equation.
“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’ll stand here and let you give me a blowjob less than seventy-two hours after you’ve given birth.”
I walked my fingers up his chest, taunting, “The Gio Bellini I know doesn’t give a damn about others, only himself.”
An iron grip locked down around my wrist. “I said no.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “How about a compromise?”
“You drive me insane, you know that?” Gio grumbled.
My satisfied smile couldn’t be contained. Getting under his skin—or rather, into his pants—had been my primary objective this whole time.
“What if we go upstairs and take a nice hot shower together?” I suggested. “And if my soapy hand just so happens to find your hard cock and start stroking, then maybe we can just call it a happy accident.”
Pulling out of his arms, I spun on my heel and did the least sexy saunter ever recorded out of the room. Sure, I walked with a limp, but I was counting on my hot ass being enough to distract from that.
But my steps faltered when the lights flickered. And they stopped dead when we were plunged into darkness.
A frightened squeal slipped up my throat and into the air. “Gio?”
“I’m right here,” came right before the flashlight on his cell phone lit up the room.
My voice wavered as I asked, “Is it the storm? O-or something else?”
