PROVING A POINT
LIBBY
When I hear the knock on the door, my stomach flutters. Even though it’s only been two days since I’ve seen Antonio, I’ve missed him like crazy. Swinging the door open, I don’t greet him or even give him time to open his mouth. I jump into his arms. Luckily, he’s quick, so he catches me. His hands go under my ass as I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his shoulders. Then I drop my mouth down to his as he walks us back into my apartment, kicking the door closed once we’re inside. He carries me to the couch, and we both go down, with me still attached to him.
“I missed this,” I tell him as his mouth leaves mine and trails down my neck to the top of my breast.
“Me, too.” I feel him smile against my skin, then see it when he pulls his face back to look at me. “That was the kind of greeting I could get used to,” he says.
I start to laugh. “I kinda lost all thought about being classy and normal when I heard you knock on the door. I’m sure Miss Ina would frown on me greeting you like that if she knew I did.”
“And I kinda don’t give a fuck. I loved it.” He smiles, running his fingers through my hair. “Have you eaten?”
“Anything besides junk food?” he asks.
I look over his shoulder briefly while I shrug.
“Right.” He grins, then laughs when Pool jumps up onto the couch next to my head and shoves his face where Antonio’s fingers are running through my hair so that he can get some love, too.
“I think he missed you,” I tell him as he sits back and picks Pool up.
He holds him against his chest.
“He gained weight.”
“I thought so, too, but I wasn’t sure.” I run my fingers along the top of Pool’s head. “I know that he likes to eat. He’s already perfected a cute little pout to get treats whenever he wants them.”
“He’s been good?”
“Yeah, really good. He’s sweet.” I smile at him as he climbs up Antonio’s shirt to his shoulder, then stands there, looking around. “It’s nice having him around to keep me company.”
My cell phone rings. Picking it up off the coffee table, I answer. “Hello?”
“Is Libby Reed available?” a man asks.
“This is her.” I smile at Antonio when Pool leaps off his shoulder and jumps to the back of the couch.
“We’re downstairs with your delivery.”
“Awesome. Come on in. The door’s open—just come up the stairs,” I tell him. He hangs up.
“Who’s that?” Antonio asks.
An excited smile lights my face.
“My new bed.” I rush to the door as two men come up the stairs with a mattress.
“New bed?” Antonio asks from the couch.
My eyes go back to him.
“With Mac now living with Wesley, I get the whole room to myself. Which means I can finally stop sleeping on the twin. Today some people came and bought the twins, and now my new bed is here,” I explain excitedly.
I step back to let the guys through the open door.
“Where do you want it?” one of them asks, looking at me.
“Right through there.” I point to the bedroom.
They head that way, then come out a few seconds later.
“Be back with the rest. While we’re doing that, you mind filling this out?”
“No problem.” I take the paper from him and fill out the highlighted information. When they come back up, they bring the box spring and the metal frame. I didn’t get a headboard because I figured I could go online and order one when I know what I want. When they leave after assembling the bed, I rush to my room and jump on it, bouncing once and then laughing when Antonio comes down on top of me.
“This is much better,” he says.
I smile. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Yeah.” He touches his mouth to mine. “You want me to help you make it?”
“If you don’t mind.”
He stands and pulls me up with him, then orders, “Get the sheets.”
Rolling my eyes, I go to the living room and grab the bags I left there earlier. I bring them to the bedroom.
Hearing him laugh, I look. “What?” I ask.
“My mom . . .” He shakes his head.
“What?” I frown, not understanding what his mom has to do with my new sheets or why he thinks it’s so funny.
“Did my mom give those to you?” he questions.
My frown grows deeper.
“No.”
“Really?” His frown matches the one on my face.
“Yes, really. Why?”
“My mom showed up at my place a few days ago with that exact bedspread and sheet set. She said she thought you’d like them. She tried to convince me to put them on my bed.”
“Your mom bought sheets she’d thought I’d like for your bed?” I repeat in horror.
He ignores me and continues, “I refused to take them. No fucking way am I sleeping on flowers.”
“You won’t sleep on flowers?” I repeat as I look at the floral sheets and comforter, then back at him, raising a brow. “Do you think you won’t be able to . . . you know”—my eyes go to his zipper—“function in floral sheets?”
“Let’s get the sheets on the bed and find out,” he growls, prowling toward me.
I laugh, backing up.
“I don’t want to disable your manhood wit—”
I laugh harder as he grabs me around the waist, cutting off my words by dropping his mouth to mine and thrusting his tongue between my lips for a very deep, very wet kiss that is over too quickly. “Now I have a point to make, Princess.” He takes the set of sheets out of my hand and opens the package. We make quick work of making my bed; then he throws me down on top of it, coming down on me once more. “You feel that?” he asks, thrusting his hips into mine.
I squirm under him when his erection grinds against my clit.
“Does that feel like I’m disabled to you?”
“No . . .” I swallow hard, thinking he definitely does not feel disabled at all.
“I get hard just thinking about you.” His hand skims up my side, under my shirt, and he cups my breast over my bra. “All I can think about is getting inside of you.” He kisses me again while his thumb and middle finger pull my nipple.
My back arches, and my legs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Smiling against my mouth, he releases my nipple and leans back quickly to help me out of my top and bra.
The moment his warm lips wrap around my nipple, I moan, “Antonio.”
“Right here.” He moves to my other breast while my hands explore his chest and abs under his shirt. Needing to feel his skin against mine, I push his shirt up. He leans back until he pulls it off over his head.
“Yes,” I whisper as his weight settles into me. “Don’t stop,” I plead, feeling his fingers skim down my stomach to the top of my jeans and right into my panties. The first touch of his fingers against my clit has my eyes rolling back into my head.
“Look at me, Princess,” he demands. I open my eyes to focus on him. “Do you want to come?”
His thumb is still circling my clit, two fingers working me, giving me nothing and everything at the same time. “Yes,” I rasp.
“Let’s get you out of these jeans.” He leans back and helps me get rid of them; then he’s back over me with his hand between my legs. “Wet,” he groans against my mouth.
I slide my hand down his chest, then unhook his jeans. When I get my hand wrapped around his cock, my pussy spasms.
“Antonio.” I open my eyes to find his already on me. “Please. I’m ready.”
His eyes flare, and his jaw gets tight. “Baby, I don—”
“Please,” I cut him off. Releasing him, I slide my hands up his chest and hold his face between my palms. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, resting his forehead to mine.
God, he’s so sweet and so perfect.
I love that he wants to make sure I’m ready. I love that he’s not pressuring me.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I lift my head and touch my mouth to his. I whisper against his lips, “Please make love to me.” His eyes flare again on the word love; then his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me hard. So hard that I feel branded by his lips.
When his mouth leaves mine, he takes his wallet out of his back pocket and gets out a condom. He lays it on the bed near my head, then kicks off his boots and jeans. Seeing all of him for the first time, my mouth goes dry. He really is perfect—from his handsome face to his cut collarbones, hard pecs, tight abs, the V of his waist that leads to his cock. It’s hard and thick.
“Stop looking at it like that,” he says. My eyes fly up to meet his. “You’re going to give him performance anxiety.”
“Is that a real thing?” I ask.
He laughs, grabbing hold of my ankle and tugging me down the bed.
“If it is, I don’t want now to be when I find out.” His hips settle between mine as his warm body comes to rest over me. “You sure about this?” he asks gently, sliding his fingers through my hair.
Looking up into his eyes, I know this is right. “This is what I’ve been holding out for . . . I mean, I’ve been waiting for you to . . . god.” I cover my face with my hands, feeling like an idiot.
I feel his body shaking over mine.
“So damn cute.” He pulls my hands from my face. “Breathe for me, Princess.”
Breathe? How the hell does he expect me to breathe when he’s around?
“I promise I’ll take care of you,” he says gently. My throat starts to get tight. “Kiss me,” he urges, dipping his head closer to mine.
Arching my neck, I touch my mouth to his, then whimper when his fingers slide between my wet folds.
“Yes,” I breathe into his mouth while one finger slides inside of me.
“Circle your hips in sync with my finger,” he says.
I do, and then he adds another finger to the pressure, making my back bow off the bed while his thumb rolls against my oversensitive clit.
“I’m . . .” I start to feel like I’m going to come, but he pulls his hand away. My eyes fly open, and I stare up at him while he reaches for the condom, rips the package open with his teeth, then uses one hand to deftly slide it on.
“You’re ready,” he grunts, sliding the head of his cock over my clit and entrance before placing the tip inside and slowly sliding in.
Wrapping my legs around his hips, my fingers dig into his shoulders as he fills me slowly. There isn’t any real pain, but there is pressure and a feeling of being full . . . so full.
“Oh,” I breathe, looking into his eyes as he goes still, deep inside me. He’s so deep that I know I will always feel him there.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He links our fingers together, bringing them up to rest beside my head. He settles his hips deeper into mine before pulling out and sliding back in slowly.
“You feel so good.” His mouth takes mine in another brutal kiss while he keeps the slow, sensual pace of sliding in and out of me. When his mouth leaves mine again and he leans back to look at me, I swear I feel my heart fly right out of my chest and into his like it belongs to him. His eyes drop to our connection, and I watch them close before he looks at me once more. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you taking me.”
My hold on him tightens in every way, and I circle my hips. I need more—I’m just not sure what that is. His hand pulls mine down between us, and he uses both our fingers to swirl over my clit. “Oh god,” I gasp, my core tightening.
He grins.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking responsive to the tiniest touch.” He says it like it’s not a bad thing at all, but I still feel my cheeks get warm.
He circles my clit faster and faster, and a knot starts to form in my lower belly and my legs start to shake. “Let go, Princess.”
He nips my earlobe, and I do. My body goes still, and I let go, falling over the edge into bliss. Eyes closed, neck arched, he lets go of my hand and starts to move more quickly inside of me. The noises coming from him and me—the pants and groans, the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin—are enough to send me into sensory overload. When his hips stop thrusting and his body jerks, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lift my face into his neck. I don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to spill over. I never had any expectations for my first time. But it was perfect, beyond perfect. In the realm of magical. And it being with Antonio made it that much better, that much more special. Tucking his face into my neck, he rolls us over until I’m sprawled on top of him. His fingers slide softly up and down my spine.
“You okay?” he asks gently.
I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak—not yet. So many emotions threaten to close my throat. I never thought about the connection I would feel to the person I shared my first time with.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
His arms tighten around me. God, I want to stay right here forever. Right in his arms, where I feel safe and wanted, free to be me even when being me is a little awkward.
“How about a bath?” he says thoughtfully.
Those stupid tears that I feel pooling in my eyes start to spill over.
“Baby . . .” He uses my hair to pull my face away from where I have it tightly tucked against his neck. “Why are you crying?”
“I . . . then you . . . then . . . that was beautiful. And you’re so sweet,” I blubber.
He sits up with me still in his hold and leans back against the wall.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining this.”
“You’re not ruining anything, Princess.” He smooths my hair away from my face and looks into my eyes. “We shared something beautiful. It’s a little overwhelming. I get that.”
“You’re not crying like a dork.” I wipe at my cheeks, and he smiles a soft smile at me, then kisses my lips. “Gah. I don’t even know why you like me,” I grumble.
His expression turns serious. “I like that you’re a little bit of a dork. I like that you don’t think before you say things to me. I like that you look just as beautiful without makeup as you do with it. I like that you rescue wild cats and have a deeper obsession with scary movies than I do. I like you for a lot of reasons, Princess,” he says.
My body goes still while my chest starts to get tight.
Oh god. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I do love him. No, no, it’s too soon. That would be crazy. I would know. I would totally know if I was in love. Right?
“I . . .”
“You can think about what you’re going to say while I start us a bath.”
He carefully lifts me off him, and I whimper when he slides out. He places a soft kiss on my lips, then pulls the sheet up over me before he leaves me in bed and heads naked toward my bathroom. I listen to him flush the toilet, then hear the water in the tub turn on. I roll to my side and try to get my brain to start working properly. I know logically that sex doesn’t mean love, but what we shared felt like more than just sex. He said he liked me, gave me a list of reasons why. I like him, too—a lot more than I have ever liked anyone. Not only because he’s gorgeous, but because he makes me feel special and cared for. Because he’s sweet and gentle.
I realize I still need to tell him about the shop.
I need to do that now. I can’t let any more time pass.
When he comes back out of the bathroom, he plucks me right up out of the bed and holds me against his chest as he carries me to the tub.
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
His eyes come to me as he steps into the tub.
“Tell me,” he says gently.
I wonder what I should say, how I should say it.
“It’s about the pizzeria,” I murmur.
His body gets tight behind mine as he settles us in the warm water.
“We’re not talking about the pizzeria tonight,” he says firmly.
“I . . .”
“Libby, not tonight.”
“Okay,” I agree reluctantly as he pulls me back to rest against his chest in the tub.
“I just want to hold you. I don’t want to think about anything to do with work,” he says gently.
My eyes close. “Sure. I . . . We’ll talk about it another time,” I agree as my stomach twists uncomfortably.
“Are you sore?” he asks, changing the subject while sliding his hand down my stomach, petting softly between my legs.
I shake my head.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling his lips rest against my shoulder. I know I should do the right thing. I should open my mouth and tell him the truth, once and for all. I don’t. Instead, I take a bath with him, order in food, then laze on my couch with him, watching a scary movie until it’s time for bed. Then I go to sleep in his arms, between floral sheets.