Page 67 of The Wedding Crush
“Look at me,” he commands.
It’s one ask, one tell, and it changes the entire mood.
He wants to see me as we learn each other intimately. It’s loud and playful, switching positions, discovering uncharted erogenous zones, and trying not to laugh as we crash over the edge.
Far be it from me to deny him.
For now, a Sunday practicing our dancing routine, watchingLove & Basketballin bed as we eat cereal like kids, exploring each other intimately—emotionally dumping on him, however one-sided—it feels like enough.
Until my phone pings with a text from Mommy, informing me she’s dropping off my kid in less than five minutes.
“Crap! Get up!” I panic, staring wide-eyed at Stefano as I rush to my closet to grab an easy sundress. “Hurry, put your clothes on. My mom is dropping off Ace, like now.”
To his credit, he looks horrified.
Stefano jolts out of bed and yanks on his slacks and dress shirt. I kick over his tie and shoes, for the first time grateful he’s a suit-and-tie guy. Nothing like a man who my son and my mother will suspect I’ve been repeatedly doing the nasty with.
Nope, he simply dropped by after a riveting Sunday morning church sermon to…
“I’m going to go put two coffee mugs on the counter.” I gnaw on my fingernail, my mind still whirling around ideas. “Let’s say you dropped by to discuss wedding plans. Which…we need to go over the catering and wine, so yes, that’s perfect…”
He’s fully dressed, now.
Unaffected and put together as we rush into my kitchen.
After I grab the mugs and set them on the counter in front of the barstools, I spin around, expectantly.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“As beautiful as you did the moment we woke up.” He chuckles, stepping closer to unravel my twisted bra strap. But then he traces his teeth over his bottom lip and slips his hand under my dress. Sliding his hand between my thighs, he dips his fingers into my panties and inside me like he knows I’m shamefully, mentally calculating if we’ve got time.Again.
I’m halfway considering it, too, when a car door slams shut outside.
“You are trouble.” Guiltily jerking away, I rush over to the front window, and yup, it’s them.
Close call.
Stefano settles on a barstool looking like a sexy cologne ad. Totally cavalier with his easy smile and endless charm, he flits a glance between the two empty mugs and my dusty Keurig.
“Should I make us some coffee, or…”
“No time.”
After smoothing my hands down my dress, I settle one hand on the doorknob.
The second the bell rings, I swing the door open.
“There’s my Ace of hearts.”
He drops his cars and backpack on the floor, and rushes into my arms like it’s been months since we’ve seen each other instead of yesterday afternoon.
“Grandma got me ice cream!”
“She did?” I shoot Mommy a chastising stare.
She knows what she’s doing hopping him up on sugar before she brings him home, so he’ll be bouncing off my walls.
But then Stefano laughs, and it’s like a theatrical spotlight shifting as he enters stage right.
