The next day, I wake shivering and hurting. My body aches, and I have a terrible cough. I put on my long flannel PJs and pink fuzzy slippers, wrap my favorite blue blanket around my shoulders, and lie down on the couch.
Flipping through the channels, I can’t find anything on TV. I switch to Netflix and find one of my favorite movies, While You Were Sleeping. At some point, I fall asleep, only seeing the beginning, and then the ending.
My eyes crack open, and the time on the clock reads 4:00 p.m. Still feeling like shit, I grab my phone to let them know that I won’t be at work. Two text messages from Luca appear on my screen. I swipe the phone.
Dinner tonight?
Ariel?
A halfhearted smile graces my lips. That’s the best I can muster while feeling this bad. I shoot him a text. Two words.
Can’t. Sick.
I dial the office number instead of the bar, and Tommy answers in a gruff voice. “Hello?”
“Tommy,” I croak out.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Ariel. I’m sick and can’t work tonight.”
“You sound like hell. Keep that crap at home and get some rest.”
“Thanks, Tommy.”
I click the phone off and let my arm fall, hanging from the side of the couch. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it takes too much strength to pull it up next to my side.
I drift back off to sleep only to be awakened by the persistent doorbell. “Go away,” I say, but my voice comes out too low. I don’t have the energy to yell. And it won’t stop ringing.
I’m barely able to push up from the couch, stumble to the door, and crack it open. Luca’s standing there holding a bag.
“Can I come in?”
“You’ll get sick. Better you stay away.”
“I don’t care about that.” He pushes the door open and strides forward. “I brought you some medicine.”
“I hope you brought Tylenol or Motrin.”
He places his hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” He sets the bag on the coffee table, takes my arm, and says, “Here, let me help you.”
I want to say okay, but it’s too much effort. So I let him lead me to the couch. He grabs the bag and pulls out a small bottle. “I have some ibuprofen.” He sets it on the table and reaches back into the bag, lifting out a small container. “And I have some chicken noodle soup.”
How thoughtful. I track his steps as he heads for the kitchen and fills a glass with water before coming back to me. Opening the bottle, he hands me the water and two ibuprofen.
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing the tablets. And I mean it.
“You’re welcome. And now the soup.”
I lean my head over on the armrest, not able to hold the soup. I can’t remember the last time I felt so bad.
Instead of handing the container over, Luca grabs a spoon and feeds me. I eat about half of it, which is all I can manage. He places the container on the table and sits down at the end of the couch, my head in his lap.
“When did you get sick?”
“I woke up like this.”
“It’s a little early for the flu, I think.”
“I just hope it goes away quickly. I feel like crap.”
Luca leans back on the couch and threads his fingers through my hair. It feels like heaven, him taking care of me. My heart melts and I fall for him a little more.
“Talk to me. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Not much. I had lunch with my cousin, caught up on the office work, signed a few papers.”
“Where did you go for lunch?”
“Romano’s. Dante loves Italian.”
“Tell me about you and your family.”
“I don’t know what there is to tell.” He plays with my hair, lets his fingers graze my forehead and cheek, then back to my hair. “I have four cousins that I’m really close with.
“And Jimmy . . .”
“I said, that I am close with.” Luca brushes my hair away from my face. “Our grandfather accumulated a massive amount of wealth, along with several properties here in the city, which was divided between us when he passed away.”
“What about your parents?” I ask sleepily.
“They didn’t need any of it. Besides, that’s the way of our family. My father will pass his wealth down to his grandkids, my wealth will go to mine. They own several different kinds of properties. Hotels, restaurants, nightclubs.”
He keeps talking but I can’t hold my eyes open any longer.
When I wake, my fever’s down and I feel much better. I turn my head, looking up at Luca. His head is propped on his hand, and his lips are slightly parted. He’s asleep.
Bringing me medicine and soup is one of the sweetest gifts I’ve ever received. I still can’t figure out why this sexy man likes me, but right now I’m so glad he does.
His eyes flutter open, and a grin graces his face when he sees me staring at him. “You’re awake.”
“I am. Thank you for the medicine. I feel much better.”
He leans down, his face inches away from mine, and I know he’s going to kiss me.
I slap a hand over my mouth and in a muffled voice, I cry out, “No! You’ll get sick and I haven’t brushed my teeth today!” Morning breath is an understatement.
He chuckles but straightens back up. I lie there for a few more minutes, and then I push up from his lap and sit up.
“I need a shower.” My shirt is wet from sweat, my hair damp. “At least my fever’s down.”
“Anything specific you would like to eat?”
“Not really. Something salty. Maybe more soup?”
“Okay, go shower and I’ll take care of it.”
I flash him a gratitude-filled smile. “Thanks.” My eyes linger on his handsome face a little longer than necessary.
“You are very welcome, Ariel.”
I nod and head to the shower.
The warm spray feels good on my shoulders as the water washes away the sweat from the fever. I feel even better as I wash my hair and then scrub my body.
It isn’t long until I’m dried and dressed, and when I walk out of the bedroom, I see Luca stretched out on the couch, his legs resting on the coffee table.
I watch as he shoves a bite of food into his mouth, and before I can say anything, he beats me to it.
“I ordered Chinese. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay, it’s perfect.” I walk over and drop down next to him, picking up my own food.
“Oh, and here’s your soup.”
I smile as I take the plastic bowl. “Thanks.”
I switch on the TV, clicking it over to House. After a few minutes, Luca says, “I don’t know why you watch this show.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“The few episodes I’ve watched, they run all these test, the patient almost dies several times, and then it’s a simple fix. Something like penicillin.”
“Not always.”
“Yes,” he nods, “most of the time.” Pointing at the screen, he finishes, “But I like that guy.”
He’s pointing at House. “Of course you do.”
The food and the company are making me feel much better. The ibuprofen didn’t hurt. We spend the rest of the evening on the couch watching TV shows and movies. His legs are propped on the coffee table, and I’m stretched out on the couch, my head resting in his lap.
When nighttime turns into early morning, he clicks off the TV and says, “Come on, bedtime.”
“Are you staying with me?” It’s the first time I’ve sort of invited him, and I’m nervous.
“Are you asking me to stay?”
Am I? This is a huge step for me and I’m nervous. I like Luca, a lot. He’s patiently waiting for me to make my mind up. So different from two weeks ago. I can’t say the words, so I nod instead.
When he holds out his hand, I place mine in his and we head to the bedroom.
I like it when he spoons me, his arm protectively wrapped around my waist. With my body still weak with whatever bug I picked up, I quickly drift off to sleep.
~~~~
Waking up in his arms, I feel better. Normal. It must have been a twenty-four-hour bug. Luca is on his back, asleep, one arm slung across his stomach, the other behind his head. I prop my head up, my chin resting in the palm of my hand.
It’s amazing how comfortable I feel with him. He’s sweet, caring, patient. Using the tip of my finger, I lightly trace the outline of his parted lips. They’re so soft compared to his hard, muscled body.
I’m staring at his lips when suddenly his hand clasps my wrist, holding it in place while his mouth closes around my finger, sucking it in.
My core clinches, my breath quickens as his eyes pop open with an intensity that makes my heart leap in my chest. Gentle pulls caress my finger before he releases it.
“Careful, Ariel,” he says in a deep, husky voice. But I don’t want to be careful. Not now.
Closing the distance, hesitantly, my lips brush lightly over his.
He arches up, his large hands on both sides of my head as he deepens the kiss.
I let go. In a quick move, I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, supporting his weight with his left elbow. Fingers thread through my hair, skim down my neck, before caressing the side of my breast until his hand rests on my hip.
His hands are gentle and confident. Breaking the kiss, his mouth glides to my ear. Gooseflesh prickles my neck when he whispers, “Let me show you how good it can feel.”
Oh, God, I want him to. But I’m still afraid. Deep down, I know this is living. This is a normal part of life, and instead of answering, I place my hands on his body, feeling his muscles with every caress. I’ve never touched a man before, never let my hands glide over his skin like I’m doing right now.
Tender kisses on my neck slowly move down to my chest. His hand is under my shirt, heading up until his hand cups my left breast. My body’s on fire, every touch of his electrifying.
I feel the wetness drench my panties. I want to feel him inside me.
His mouth returns to my ear, but he doesn’t stop the caresses. “Are you sure, Ariel?” he asks before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. Oh, God! How he makes me feel . . . My eyes close.
Breathlessly, I say, “Yes.” My hips arch up, showing him with my body.
He tears my shirt over my head, leaving me at his mercy.
Exposed.
“Beautiful,” he says as he stares down at my breasts. I don’t know why, because they’re small, but I’m happy he likes them.
“I have to feel you,” he whispers in my ear. I know what he means. I’m on the edge of something, but I don’t know what.
I need . . .
I want . . .
He slowly slides the panties from my hips and then shucks off his underwear. I stare at his massive erection, the first I’ve ever seen, before he comes down on top of me, resting in the cradle of my legs. Am I really doing this? My heart pounds from both excitement and fear as I feel the tip of his erection bump my entrance.
His lips skim my neck. He whispers, “Just relax,” as his breath brushes my ear. “It’s not a race.” His lips brush my jaw before landing softly on my lips. His tongue swirls with mine and I run my hands up and down the length of his back.
One hand gently threads through my hair before slowly tracing the outline of my jaw, grazing down my neck, over my breast to my . . .
I gasp when he inserts his finger, moving it slowly in and out.
“You’re so wet,” he almost moans as his finger keeps moving inside me. And then he does something . . . his finger curls upward, hitting a different spot.
“Come for me, Ariel.” His voice is firm, almost demanding. I like it. Frozen with intensity, not moving, just feeling as something rushes forward. My hips buck as pleasure seizes control. “You’re so tight around my finger.”
Before I know what’s happening, his finger is gone and he’s between my legs, lapping at my juices. The sight is so erotic, so foreign. I feel him spear me with his tongue.
Now he’s back on top of me. I can’t catch my breath.
“I needed to taste you.”
He kisses me again, and I can taste myself on his lips. Oh, God! It sets me on fire.
He raises slightly. This is it, I think, but it’s not. Luca gently takes my hand, guiding it down to his erection. With his hand covering mine, he wraps it around, gently squeezing. “Feel me, Ariel.” His voice is husky as he uses his hand to guide mine, showing me how to work it up and down. He’s hard—-and soft—-and so slick.
I can’t believe I’m touching him.
Touching it.
Just as I think I’m getting the hang of it, he forces my hand away.
Breathing heavily, he lowers his forehead to mine. “What you do to me,” he mumbles, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me until he says, “I need to fuck you now.”
Kissing my lips again, his hand traces the inside of my thigh, hooks under my knee, and opens my legs farther apart.
He’s breaching my entrance.
It burns.
I grimace, and just as I’m about to tell him it hurts, he says, “I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to do this the first time.”
With a quick thrust of his hips, I’m filled completely.
“Aw . . .” I gasp from the tearing pain.
He kisses my lips lightly and holds his hips still. “I’m sorry,” he whispers with light kisses.
It doesn’t take long until the pain fades, and I want him to move.
“It feels better now,” I say, twisting my hips a little.
His hips start to move slowly, the fading pain turns to pleasure, and I can’t believe how good it feels. He increases his pace, slowly withdrawing, then thrusting hard. “You feel so fucking good.”
I want to tell him he does too, but I’m too overcome with pleasure. He hitches my leg higher, giving him more room. “You are so tight . . . shit, I’m going to come.”
With one last, hard thrust, he holds himself deep inside. I can feel his dick pulse inside me, and just the thought sends me over the edge.