Page 52 of Sexting My Ex's Dad
My heart races, torn between my lingering doubts and the undeniable pull I feel towards him. But as I look into his blue eyes, filled with a sincerity I can’t ignore, I find myself unable to resist that magnetic charm of his. I doubt that there’s a woman in the world who could.
“Alright,” I murmur.
We don’t speak as we settle into each other’s arms, allowing the silence to wrap around us. He wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling me close. I tense up, but gradually relax into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back.
There’s still one thing I need to know.
“Tell me something,” I say, breaking the silence between us. “Why didn’t you just call me?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“But I…”
“I’ve done plenty of chasing,” he whispers. “It was your turn to do a little bit, but you’re so spoiled rotten you tried to end it instead. I’ll have to punish you for that.”
“Punish me?”
“Don’t worry about it right now. Just go to bed.”
I want to talk more, but my eyelids are heavy.
As sleep begins to tug at the edges of my consciousness, I’m filled with a profound sense of contentment. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in far too long, and one that I never thought I’d find with Elio.
Don’t tell me that I’m really gaining feelings for him.
30
STELLA
The first thing I realize the next morning is that Elio isn’t beside me.
The sheets are still warm where he’d been earlier, his scent lingering on my pillow. At least, I don’t have to worry about last night being some kind of a dream.
I wonder what he had going on that was so important that he had to leave early - especially when he said we would talk.
I throw off the covers and quickly get dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple blouse. As I pass by the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my tousled hair and flushed cheeks - and decide to pull my hair into a messy bun.
No sooner am I fully clothed than the acrid smell of something burning invades my senses. My heart races with panic as I fear I’ve left the stove on, and I rush to the kitchen. As forgetful as I am, not to mention the fact that I’d done that before, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case.
“Please don’t let it be a fire,” I mutter under my breath as my bare feet slap against the cold tile floor. I hadn’t had the chance to get a fire extinguisher yet…nor renter’s insurance.
I burst into the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest, only to stop dead in my tracks. To my immense relief and surprise, there’s Elio, standing by the stove. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, accentuating the lines of his sculpted physique.
“Good morning,” he says with a grin, flipping something that resembles a pancake in the air. It lands back in the pan with a sizzle, slightly charred around the edges.
“Morning,” I reply, still processing his presence in my kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to make breakfast,” he chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I may have slightly overestimated my cooking abilities.”
I lean against the countertop, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Slightly? That poor pancake didn’t stand a chance.”
Elio rolls his eyes playfully. “Hey, I’m trying my best here. Besides, I thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”
“Surprise” is an understatement. The image of Elio Lombardi, business mongrel and master of mystery, making pancakes in my modest kitchen is one I never thought I’d see. But there’s an undeniable charm in his attempt.
I wonder how many other women he’s done this for.Maybe I’m the first?I need to stop with the wistful thinking.
“Okay, Master Chef,” I say, my lips curling into a smirk, “you’ve got my attention. But if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
