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“Well, that is true, but it’s part of your charm.”
I snorted. “Ah, see, now that’s my dad’s side coming through. Ma said he could charm Satan out of his pitchfork. It’s the Irish blood. They’re all charming.”
“I have found that to be true.”
I chanced kissing him, just lightly, and he didn’t shirk it off. “Thanks for being kind. I know I grate on some folks. I tend to be a little raspy, like one of them files the pedicurist uses on your heels during a pedicure.”
His chuckle filled the quiet room. “I have great trouble imagining you sitting in a chair getting a pedicure.”
“See, that’s where you’re letting your rich boy snooty paint a bad picture. I’ll have you know I go to the salon as regular as rain. My aunt Colleen on my father’s side owns a nail parlor in Marine Park and it’s next to a pub. Well, it used to be a pub, but the owner died and a flower shop bought it out. So every time I go to get my toes made pretty, I stop and grab Aunt Colleen a bouquet. She likes flowers. Say they remind her of my dearly departed Uncle Sean, who was the son of a World War II pilot who was known as Airy Anrai and was so charming that he once talked a Luftwaffe pilot out of shooting him out of the sky. Now, I can feel your doubt, but Aunt Colleen swears it’s true, and she don’t lie about war heroes.”
“Your family is the most colorful tribe of human beings that I have ever heard of,” he finally said, which made me laugh. “My family is quite pale in comparison, although my great-grandfather was a member of the French resistance during the war.”
“That’s cool. What about your folks?” I was curious about him and his past. He never really talked about his kin, and that struck me odd.
His hand sitting on my hip stalled right before he rolled to his back. “There is not much to say. Papa was a stern but good man, and Mama loved the arts. They left me too soon.”
“Sorry you lost them. I know it’s hard. My dad died when I was just a little turd. I don’t recall a whole lot about him, but I remember Ma being sad. We had to move in with family as there wasn’t no life insurance. Which is okay because family does that for you. They help you when you’re down as well as annoy the living crap out of you when you’re good.”
“My family is not like yours. We’re…distant. My uncle was not pleased when this winery came to me at such a young age. I thought perhaps he would fight me in court, but the will was most secure. He is also homophobic, so that is a check mark against me as well in his eyes. Mama had passed before Papa, so that left me here at a tender age with only Madame and Barnaby. They are my family now, I suppose.”
“They’re good eggs,” I replied, easing my finger down along his whiskery cheek. “I mean Barney comes off as super icy, but once you get him in front of Fran Dresher, he melts like a stick of butter.”
“Yes, I did not see that coming.” He sat up, turned on the light, and looked down at me lying in his bed, spent and sticky. “Then again, I did not see you coming either. I have no idea what to do about this situation.” He waved a refined hand between us. I moved to my back, threaded my hands on my belly, and spoke to the ceiling.
“The way I see it you got a few options,” I said as he sat beside me with his hair jutting out in about fourteen different directions. I liked that unkempt look. He was always so damned tidy and tightly wound. Getting fucked forty ways to Friday probably did him a world of good. I know it sure had for me. “You and I can go back to our rooms and pretend this didn’t happen, which, between me and you and the bedpost, sounds shitty and sad to me. However, if that’s what you want, then I’ll haul my ass back to my room.” He said nothing and simply stared ahead as I prattled on. “Or you can lay back down and we can get to round three, and then I can go back to my room and pretend this didn’t happen, though our asses will be even more tender than they are now.” That one made him snort with amusement. “Or, and this is the one that I think we should explore, we go for round three and I stay here all night and then we can see what the morning brings. Might be we’re both mortified. Might be we’re both feeling well purged and we go back to being friendly annoyances or might be we like the looks of each other in the morning light and we decide to warm each other’s beds until my place is ready for me to move back in. I vote for number three.”
It took him so long to reply that I was just about to crawl out of his big warm bed to go find my cold one. When he moved over me, sliding that slim, sexy body over mine, I exhaled in relief.
“Round three sounds like a brag to me. Show me that you are not all bluster, Philip Greco.”
His mouth slanted over mine. Being who I am, I rolled him to his back and showed him that a third go was not me just blowing air up his skirt. When we were done and winded, chests pumping like racehorses, he turned off the light and covered us up.
“No sense to dirty your sheets for Bridgette,” he purred as he spooned behind me.
Since I was a good guy who never wanted to make work for the staff, I stayed there in his arms for what remained of the night.
Chapter Ten
Henri
Waking up with Philip curled close was not mortifying at all.
Perhaps it should have been. He was certainly a most abrasive sort at times, not including the dark whiskers that were now covering his handsome face. He dressed like a jock, his taste in wine was beer, and his musical tastes were vastly different than mine.
But even with all of those things going against him, coming to consciousness with his compact, hard body beside mine was anything but mortifying. It was…lovely.
I’d slept alone in this bed for many years, mostly my own choice, for who would wish to be weighed down by a lover who would be a burden in the years to come? Celibacy seemed the best way to avoid losing someone else whom I loved and so I had maintained my distance.
Until this sandpapery, garrulous, sociable man had arrived at my chalet like a locust with a New York accent and a heart as big as Seneca Lake.
The early morning sun made my eyes water, so I eased out from under my bed partner, padded to the window, and drew the draperies shut. Once the light was suitably doused, I turned with trepidation to gaze down at the man sprawled out over my bed as if he owned it. That, it seemed, was typical Greck. He rolled into a person’s life and claimed it lock, stock, and beloved servants. Everyone on my payroll from the gardeners to Barnaby had fallen for his chat a minute common man charm.
And so had I, which was more than a bit confusing but not wholly unpleasant. Padding closer, I observed his face smashed into a pillow. One of about four pillows that he had confiscated during the night along with the covers and ninety percent of the bed. Even with his nose pushed to the side and his cheeks coated with thick whiskers and pillow marks, the man was insanely appealing. How had I not seen how incredibly good-looking he was? And no, my vision was not that bad. Obviously, I’d used his abrasiveness as a means to block out any kind of appreciation for him that I might have had.
Longing to climb back into bed and rouse him with a sloppy blowjob, I did the opposite. Slipping back into that warm cocoon would be a mistake, surely. While what we had was explosive no doubt, I would still become a burden to him or any man who I developed feelings for, and that was not something I wished to live with. Best to keep things low-key and casual, and when his apartment was ready for habitation, he could move away with no hurt feelings.
I nodded at my sound reasoning. Papa would be in agreement. Mama not so much. Sighing softly, I pulled the duvet up over his bared shoulder and walked away.
