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I look out at the passing coastline, suddenly uncomfortable. My apartment is small, the furniture doesn't match, and the kitchen table wobbles. How can I show him my everyday life when everything in his looks like a magazine spread?
"Maybe soon," I tell him.
"Whenever you're ready."
He doesn't press, and that's somehow worse for my defenses. I'm falling for him, and I can't seem to stop.
CHAPTER SIX
BRIDGET
By Friday of our third week together, Elise has called twice to accuse me of abandoning her for a mysterious Italian man. She says I sound disgustingly happy, and she isn't wrong.
That evening, Enzo surprises me with a burgundy dress that makes me feel almost as gorgeous as he insists I am. We have dinner overlooking the city, and somewhere between arguing over dessert and listening to him describe his grandmother's terrible driving, I catch myself imagining what life with him might look like years from now. Not just beautiful hotels and candlelight. Birthdays, sick days, ordinary Tuesdays. Him in my kitchen complaining that the cats have stolen his breakfast.
Oh, shit. I think I'm falling in love.
Enzo barely gets the penthouse door closed before I grab both sides of his jacket and pull him down to me.
He laughs against my mouth. “Something you want, sweetheart?”
“You. Preferably before I remember I’m supposed to be a respectable librarian.”
“Nothing respectable about the way you’ve been looking at me all evening.”
“Then stop talking, bossy.”
I kiss him again before he can answer. For once, I’m not nervous. Not about my stomach or my thighs or whether the dress he bought me makes me look like I belong in his world. I’ve spent three weeks learning exactly what Lorenzo Moretti looks like when he wants me, and right now the answer is hungry enough to make my pulse race.
His hands settle at my waist. Mine go straight for his belt. Enzo catches both my wrists.
I pull back. “Seriously?”
His eyebrows lift. “What?”
“You have a terrible habit of interfering whenever I’m trying to get your pants off.”
His mouth curves. “Maybe I enjoy watching you work for it.”
“Oh, honey.”
I twist my wrists free. “You have drastically underestimated how motivated I am.”
That earns me the laugh I wanted. I push his jacket from his shoulders and toss it somewhere behind me. His tie follows. Then I start on his shirt while Enzo stands there letting me undress him with that infuriatingly pleased expression.
“You could help.”
“I could.”
“You’re not going to?”
“No.”
“Asshole.”
“Bossy librarian.”
“Rich prick.”
