Page 60 of Worth Loving You

He released a drawn out sigh, rubbing the underside of my chin with his index knuckle. “So does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“I don’t know, is this an official proposal?”

“Unofficial, official. It’ll be public knowledge when I put a ring on that finger.”

“Either way, yes, I’ll marry you.”

“You’re goddamn right you will. I want you as my wife, and you know I always get what I want.”

Snickering, I laid my cheek to his chest. He groaned, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s going to be perfect, I promise. I’ll give you the biggest, most beautiful wedding of your dreams, and then spend the rest of our lives worshipping you.”

“Mm, sounds wonderful.”

And so, five weeks after meeting Milo Pampinella, I had gone from despising him and wanting nothing to do with intimacy or affection, to being in love for the first time in my life, and planning a wedding with a man who was still basically a stranger.

You have no idea who you’re with. You’re in over your head here, kitten. You have no fucking clue what you’ve gotten yourself in to.

I stared across the room, dread weighting my chest. Wyatt was wrong. I knew exactly what I was getting into. Milo and I were meant to be together. Just because we figured out relatively quick how important we were to one another, didn’t mean we were going to rush into a marriage and babies and all that. There was plenty of time for that.

First, I needed to weed out the affairs. I couldn’t marry him while he was still sleeping with others. That was where I drew the line.

Chapter 22

Milo Pampinella

The house we were staying at was on the hills on the outskirts of Trapani. A modern villa with columned terraces, a trellis covered, heated swimming pool, and a panoramic view of the Tyrrhenian Sea down below, it came with a maid, a cook, and a personal chauffeur. The back patio was a combination of wooden or cement beams and natural rocks from the roof just off the back of the house, to the left side of the pool with a thin waterfall trickling into the crystal blue water.

Sitting in one of the chairs at the main table just off the living room, I was slouched low, my ankles crossed and propped on another seat. My elbow on the surface, a cigarette rolled between my fingers. Unable to take my eyes off Chastity in the pool, my heart sped up, taking advantage of the fact she was oblivious to me eyeing her.

She leisurely swam along the length to the deep end, her distorted figure gliding just under the surface. At the end, her face broke through, her palms pushing her dark locks away as she bobbed up and down. Paddling to the edge, she gripped the rim and grunted, hoisting herself out the water to her waist, craning her neck to gaze at the view below. A wide grin spread across her slightly freckled features, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip.

I smiled and took a drag, mesmerized at just the sight of her. From the moment she got off the plane, she had been awestruck with Italy. Though I had been here a million times, spending most of my summers at the family villa in San Teodoro with our private beach, it made me proud at how enthusiastic she was to see everything. Nothing was basic, everything was beautiful and exotic in her eyes.

Everything about Chastity Lou Monroe was refreshing. She was unlike any of my other lovers…ever. She demanded respect, refused to put up with my shit, and made me earn her affection. I had never had to work so hard for one of my girls before, and it made me want her more.

“Hey, boss.”

Not taking my sight off my obsession, I jutted my chin at Wyatt.

He groaned and dropped to a seat on the other side of the table, lighting a cigarette. “She’s been in that pool for hours.”

My smile broadened, my focus raking over the wet, burgundy bathing suit that dipped low on her back. She pushed off the wall and sank under the water, disappearing for a moment.

“She likes it. Leave her alone.”

She popped up in the shallow end, brushing her locks out her face while slowly climbing the steps to get out. My pulse quickened, all my blood rushing to my groin. It was a one piece suit that only had one strap over her left shoulder, the right slightly dipping at an angle low on her breast. The cut high on her thighs to just above her hips, it bunched on the left side, creating wrinkles across her stomach.

She made wide steps, sashaying across the patio to the right of the courtyard where there was a crudely built alfresco shower made of thin, slate stones, plants and flowers growing between the grooves. Stepping up and turning on one of the streams, she tucked her fingers in the bottom of the suit and plucked the material from her crack.

“Goddamn,” I muttered, taking a drag.

Wyatt shook his head, sinking lower in his seat. An ankle on his knee, he flicked his ashes to the ground, not even hiding he was bitter. “I don’t get it, boss. What the hell do you see in big chicks?”

“Jesus, Wyatt.” My tone was gruff, thinking of what that woman looked like naked. “Tits that aren’t silicon, curves to hang on while I’m pounding into her, cheeks that jiggle when she bounces, and a nice, juicy, fat pussy that gets so goddamn wet and tastes sweeter than honey sometimes.”

“Well, yeah…ahem.” He grew uncomfortable, turning his attention to the far side of the property…away from Chastity. Coughing, he squirmed a bit before continuing. “I mean, but you can’t like pick her up, wrap her legs around you, and fuck her against the wall.”

Snorting, the smoke billowed from my nostrils. “You think I give a shit?” I craned my neck to peer at him, pointing at her with my cigarette. “When that chick is riding me, and her ass slaps down on my balls, fucking Christ!” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I nut like that,” I stated, snapping my fingers.