Page 217 of Valentino

In the perfect moment he takes my face in his hands and kisses me slow and sensual. Our lips linger over each other’s as a newfound tenderness runs between us.

Ding….

Ding….

“Oh my God, they’re looking for you,” I whisper.

“I don’t care.”

Ding….

“Well, they obviously do.”

Ding….

“Valentino. Your phone is blowing up; oh my God, I’m dying on behalf of the bride. You need to go. Now.”

He exhales heavily. “Yeah, yeah.” He steps out of the shower and wraps a white towel around his waist. “Are you getting out?”

“Not yet.” I turn back to face the shower, the room is steamy and as he disappears out of the bathroom, I smile up at the water, the truth is I want to stay here in this moment of post orgasmic glow for a while longer.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been deeply sated like this, if ever.

“Where’s my sock?” he calls.

“What?” I call back.

He rushes in, wearing suit pants and his white shirt open, he’s holding a black sock. “Did you see where my other sock went?”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the sock keeper of the secrets.”

“Sock keeper of secrets?” He rolls his eyes before disappearing again. “Why would a sock keep a fucking secret,” I hear him mutter dryly.

I keep smiling up at the shower, I can’t even pretend to be unimpressed by his iconic bedroom skills.

I needed that.

“Where the fuck is it?” he calls.

“Look under the bed,” I call back.

“I did already, it’s not there.”

Ding….

Ding….

“Shut up, I’m coming,” he snaps. “Anna, can you come and help me find this fucking sock,” he calls.

“Fine.” I get out, wrap a towel around me and walk into the room to find him down on his hands and knees looking under the bed.

“It can’t just disappear,” he scoffs.

I pick up a cushion on the couch and look beneath it, I pick up my clothes and with my hands on my hips I look around the room. “I have no idea where your stupid sock is.”