“Stacked, the way toast should be. Not in those rack things I keep getting in most hotels.”
“What’s wrong with toast racks?”
“They’re sadistic. The toast gets cold and the butter gets all congealy. Ick.”
“Ah. I shall burn all my toast racks immediately.”
Cora swallowed her mouthful of toast and said, “How many do you have?”
“I’m sure there’s one somewhere in the kitchen. If not, I’ll buy one just so we can burn it.”
“Good. Cora approves.”
“Mmm.”
Paolo caught her hand, buttery fingers and all, and kissed her fingertips. He’d shaved, it seemed, before making her breakfast in bed in the complimentary kitchen; or probably the butler had done it. And a good thing too, because Cora’s lips and chin were chafed from his stubbly kisses last night. And so were the insides of her thighs. That thought made her blush. She looked over at Paolo, covertly, to see if he’d caught her, but he’d turned away and was pouring himself a little more coffee from the carafe.
He was just as handsome this morning in a black robe as he’d been last night in his jacket and tie. Strong jaw, great cheekbones, hooked nose and onyx eyes.
“What are you thinking?”
Caught looking. Cora improvised. “Are you going into the city today?”
“Ahh no. Your mother is expecting us for lunch so I thought we’d get ready for that here.”
Cora raised her eyebrows. That was surprising and gratifying. “Get ready? Like…how?”
Paolo made a face over his coffee. “Well you know; you could coach me. Let me know the dos and don’ts. Family politics and what not….”
“Oh, well it’s just me and my mom so we’re basically the Gilmore Girls. Minimum family drama there.”
“Great..and she knows about…me?.”
Cora smirked “Pretty much.”
“Excellent; does she hate me?”
“No…she knows all about you so she knows we already made up and shit.”
“Okay then.”
“Just be yourself Paolo and everything will be fine.”
“I think,” she said, slowly, as if pondering the question deeply, “that you should take off that robe and get back into bed. We can wing it from there.”
The corner of Paolo’s mouth twitched up in a tiny smile, and he set his cup down on the breakfast tray. He stood and shed the robe and dropped it on the bed. Mmm, nude man. Relaxed and ready. Cora dragged her eyes and mind away from the obvious place to enjoy the rest of the view. Nice chest, not too much hair on it, broad shoulders. Paolo was a big guy overall, and there was no hiding it when he was out of his designer suits. Powerful in the ways that mattered. Sexy.
Cora folded back the sheets and granted him a rewarding glimpse of nude Lafitte. Paolo climbed in next to her, and leaned his head on an elbow. He’d been looking at her breasts the whole time.
“Now I have you where I want you,” Cora said.
She sprang out of bed and leapt for the robe. Mmm, plush. On it went. Paolo dove for the sash, but Cora dodged out of his way and knotted it around her waist. She headed for the bathroom, waving goodbye to him over her shoulder. Paolo had shaved, after all, which was cheating, so she could brush her teeth and nobody could grudge her that. She hopped into the shower for a quick rinse-off while she was at it. She was sticky in unusual places. Paolo had been unexpectedly wild. Had he poured wine onto her breasts last night and licked it off? Yes, he had. It had been the most amazingly weird dark amber wine, too, much sweeter than Cora had thought wine could be, from a chunky little bottle. They’d drunk it from tiny glasses before Paolo had gone into pervy mode with it. Though he’d followed the nipple-licking stunt with some other tongue stunts that Cora felt he could repeat any time he wanted.
Say right now.
Out of the shower, toweled dry with one of the hotel’s gigantic towels. Cora put Paolo’s plush robe back on and made her way back to the bedroom. Her man was in bed now, blankets folded neatly at waist level, with a newspaper. The morning crossword? That was hardly romantic, especially because he wasn’t bothering to look up at her as she came up to the bed. He was scribbling a solution to one of the clues, in pen, the cocky bastard. He’d always done the New York Times crossword in pen, usually with a stopwatch ticking next to the paper.
Cora leaned her hands on the edge of the bed, casually, just hard enough to make it shift.
He said, not looking up, “I need a four-letter word for ‘feel the heat, engaging a battle’.”
Cora blinked once, twice. “I’m wounded that you weren’t waiting for me to get back.”
Paolo capped his pen. “I braced for your usual morning ritual. An hour and the hot water emptied.”
“Had an incentive to make it fast this morning.”
“Oh?”
An eyebrow raised, completely and utterly suggestively. Cora matched it as best as she could.
“Yeah.”
Paolo set the pen and newspaper aside, not breaking her gaze. He reached for the end of the sash and this time she let him get it. He pulled slowly and it came untied. Cora shimmied and let the robe slide off her shoulders and down to the floor. Oh yes, she had him.
Cora slipped into bed next to Paolo and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. She trailed her hand down his chest to his navel, down lower.
She said, “Feel the heat. Huh. Four letters?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Whoa.”
Paolo was on her again, seizing her and rolling her underneath his body. And he’d gone right back to where they’d started last night, with kissing. Long deep kisses. He eventually wandered away from her lips, though, to explore other places. Her neck. Her breasts. A little bit of teeth, a lot of tongue, and great care taken to give equal attention to each one. And his knee was thoughtfully placed between hers, so she could get some bonus friction from his muscled thigh. Nice and hard. Riding muscles?
Cora sighed.
“Mmm? Everything okay?”
“I was thinking–“
“Oh dear.”
“That maybe when we get back to NY we should look into moving in together.”
His shoulders relaxed. Cora rubbed the back of his neck a little bit to encourage him to start kissing her breasts again. He took the hint and she rewarded him with a happy sigh.