What?“I don’t—Is this like a recent thing? Did something happen?”
Eyes locked on mine, he gives me a single shake of his head. “It’s always been that way.”
Frowning, I stare at him. Searching for…I don’t even know what. “Are you...are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yeah, Tillie.Sono vergine.”
Disbelieving, I say nothing, waiting for him to laugh and tell me he’s just messing with me.
But there’s not even a hint of humor in his expression. He’s soberly serious.
“I don’t believe—Like, how’s that even possible? You’re thirty in a few months!”
A smile ghosts his lips. “Is there an age limit for that sort of thing?”
“I mean, for a man, it’s...not normal.”
“Careful with the double standards,regalità.”
“Okay, I just—” I stand up then sit back down. Twice. Flabbergasted. “Why?”
“That’s just what I prefer. What do you want for dinner?”
“So for you to fuck me I’ll have to marry you?”
“How does herbed riccotta gnocchi sound?”
“Saint!”
He gets up and strides to the kitchen.
I follow, almost tripping over Indy when she comes out of nowhere and darts in my path, as if in attempt to stop me from going near him. I dance around her, fake a couple steps, and leave her in the lurch.
Finally in the kitchen, I walk up behind Saint and wrap my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his back. “Can I be different? Please?”
When he tries to pull my arms from around him, I stubbornly tighten them. “Let’s go to Vegas.”
“Your brat is showing.”
“Of course it is. You’re telling me I’ll never have you.”
Using force to pry my arms from around him, he turns and cradles my face. Drops a kiss to my nose. “You can’t always have what you want.”
I lean into his touch and sigh, like the addict I am. Then abruptly snap out of it and straighten, shoving him away. “I’ll cook dinner. Go take a nap or something.” When it looks like he’s about to fight me on it, I add, “Please. I need this time to process and come to terms.”
“Va bene.”
He tilts my chin up using his knuckles then dusts his lips across mine before sweeping his tongue inside. He kisses me sweetly, sexily, romantically, and ends it on a note that feels like an apology. “It’s just sex,regina. Just sex.”
What would you know? You’ve never had it.
With that, he leaves the kitchen to me.
~
COOKING IS MYZen. Therapeutic. So by the time dinner is done, I’m in a different mood.
When I pad to the bedroom to wake Saint from his nap, he grumbles something incomprehensible before he pulls me under the covers with him and kisses me without pause while he fingers me into an orgasm.
