Page 74 of My Favorite Kidnapper

I found her endlessly fascinating. Her refusal to swear amused me, and I tried to trick her into it and failed daily.

“Luck,” I whispered. “Suck. Duck.” I bit down on her lobe. “Just words.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, gripping me. “Move, Dante. Cheese and crackers, move.”

I held myself over her. “Fuck.”

“Fudgsicle.”

“Fuuuck,” I said, moving just enough to tease her.

“Frack. Frickle. Forgetit.”

I started to laugh. Then I gave her a physical demonstration of the word.

I loved her silences. The way she spoke without saying a word. The concentration on her face as she decorated another cake for me. The sheer delight when I would take a second or third piece, announcing that this one was now “my favorite.”

They all were, because she made them.

I had never acted like this with a woman. Never said the word please so often. Wanted to make someone smile. I was used to issuing orders, making rapid decisions, expecting people to follow my demands. That didn’t work with Brianna, and although I loved her fire, I disliked it when she seemed hurt by my curtness, and for the first time in a very long while, I tried to curb my impatience. Somehow, because it was for her, it seemed easier.

She was my entire focus most days. I smiled as she paddled toward me, pulling her out of the water and planting a kiss to her tempting mouth.

“Good job. We’ll start on learning the breaststroke next.”

“Okay.”

I touched the end of her nose. “But we need to talk.”

She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I have to go to Naples. There is some gallery business I have to handle in person. And I have some business meetings and dinners to attend.”

She sat down beside me on the steps, the water glistening on her skin. I was tempted to kiss off the drops, so I did, tonguing them from her shoulder and kissing it. She shivered under my touch, making me grin. She slid closer, her hand on my thigh.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A week.”

“Do you want me to keep baking cakes?”

“That’s something else we need to talk about. You were right. A cake every day is too much. Gia told me the freezer is getting full, even with the smaller ones you’re making. And my pants are getting tight.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and laughed, the sound clear and loud. “I warned you.”

“Maybe every other day. And those little ones you showed me that we can polish off easier.”

She was quiet for a moment. “And the timeline?” she finally asked.

“We’ll discuss that in a while.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I want you to come to Naples with me.”

She tilted up her head. “Why?”

“I can’t go cold turkey on the baked goods, Little Bee.”

She rolled her eyes, and I tapped her nose again. “I want you to come to the dinners with me.”

“Why?” she asked again.