“I didn’t know if you were coming or not.”

  He smiles.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he mutters, erasing the space between us and wrapping his arm around my waist.

  Within seconds, my cotton flannel pajamas clad body presses against his frame.

  His lips leave a kiss on mine. His face is still cold from the air outside while my body is warm as it was under the covers.

  I shiver.

  He watches me amused before he drapes his arms around me and hugs me with affection.

  His lips press against my hair, his skin radiating heat mixed with a discrete scent of aftershave.

  I lock my arms around his waist, press my cheek against his shoulder and let him hold me in his embrace for a few good moments, dawning on me that I relish his hugs so much.

  “You didn’t call,” I murmur as we break away.

  “I wanted to make you a surprise,” he says softly.

  “I didn’t expect guests,” I say humorously, pointing to my pajamas.

  “I love you like that,” he says naturally.

  I grin.

  “You’re flattering me.”

  “No. I really do,” he tosses back at me.

  I spin around and head to the kitchen.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask as I hear his steps behind me.

  “No.”

  “I am.”

  “I can order something.”

  “No, no. I want hot chocolate and a grilled cheese sandwich. Would you like one?”

  I give him a side glance.

  “It’s really good,” I add as I pull a loaf of bread out of the bread box, and cheese and butter from the fridge.

  “Okay. I’ll make your hot chocolate,” he offers.

  He starts looking in the cupboard. He pulls out a chocolate bar, cocoa powder, cinnamon, sugar, milk, and whipped cream from the fridge.

  I look at him as he starts preparing it.

  “I worked as a barista for a summer,” he says answering the question that sits on my lips.

  It takes him minutes before he sets on the kitchen table a hot drink that looks very much like the Rumchata drink I had the other night, minus the liquor.

  I slide one sandwich on his plate and one on mine.

  “Would you like a drink? Wine? Beer?”

  “Water is fine.”

  I bring him a bottle of water.

  We sit around the kitchen table and eat.

  “It’s really good,” he says.

  “I told you,” I mutter before I swallow a piece of food.

  “How come you cook so well?”

  I smile.

  “I’m a foodie. I used to go out a lot and ate in a lot of nice places, and then I started to cook at home when I was with...”

  I pause.

  “Yes?”

  I feel his stare, but I avoid his eyes for a second.

  “My first boyfriend.”

  “Andy.”

  I flick my gaze at him surprised that he remembered his name.

  “Yeah... With him.”

  His eyes turn cold for a moment.

  He doesn’t like to think about my past as much as I don’t like to think about his present and his female clients.

  I find his concern with my past childish and futile in a way, but I also find it endearing and it fills my heart with hope.

  “You wouldn’t have liked me back then anyway,” I say jokingly before I soak my lips into my chocolaty drink and take a mouthful.

  “How were you a few years back?” he asks, his gaze tipped down.

  “Different. One dimensional.”

  “That sounds harsh,” he says, whipping his eyes at me.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “How are you now?”

  He locks my eyes.

  “Coming into myself.”

  A mysterious grin arches his lips.

  He looks down, averting his eyes while I stare at his face, drinking him in, his smile highlighting his cheekbones.

  “There is something I need to tell you...” he says after a while, his gaze not leaving the table, his smile faltering somewhat.

  Instantly, I get swept by a bad feeling.

  I feel my palms dry, and my pulse racing. Is that what today was? Or last night?

  Where there clues I needed to read, yet my mind didn’t connect the dots?

  All of a sudden, I connect them.

  He didn’t spend the night here and then he had something to do in the morning. And then he never called.

  And now, he’s here. And he needs to tell me something?

  “I’m listening,” I say coldly, bracing myself.

  “It’s not bad,” he says as he flicks his gaze at me, gauging my reaction.

  “It can’t be good either. Otherwise, you would’ve called me and told me on the phone.”

  My chin starts quivering. I so hate myself for doing that.

  His eyes don’t leave my face, and I’m sure he reads me like an open book, or he wouldn't slide his hand on top of mine.

  I pull my hand away from him. The last thing I need right now is him feeling sorry for me.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Uh-huh,” I mutter skeptically.

  “I’ll be away this coming week.”

  I flick my gaze at him.

  Um…

  I really don’t know how to take this.

  “Okay...” I say, caught by surprise.

  That’s not what I thought he’d say.

  I imaged something worse, but this, frankly, is not much better.

  I just canceled my plans to go home. Foolishly, I thought I’d spend my Thanksgiving Day with him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to attend a few sports events.”

  “Where?”

  “Italy.”

  The blood draws from my face.

  I feel as if the air was knocked out of my lungs.

  He’s going to be ‘gone’ gone.

  “When are you coming back?”

  He studies me for a moment.

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I am.”

  “Should I wait for you?” I ask, plastering a smile on my face although I feel a lump in my throat.

  “I’m not breaking up with you, Eve.”

  Oh... So we are together after all. I go through one of those moments when I feel like crying and laughing all at once.

  “Why are you here then?” I ask, hoping to disperse my tension.

  He waits for a few moments.

  “I just wanted to convince myself that it was safe for me to leave you alone for a few days.”

  My eyebrows push up, and for a second, the meaning of his words escapes me completely before my mind connects a different set of dots and revelation falls through me.

  “Oh... I see. You knew you were going to leave.”

  He tips his chin down.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And you wanted to make sure that you hooked me on you before you left.”

  “Something like that.”

  “What made you think that I would’ve forgotten about you had you not done that?”

  “I don’t know,” he says amused. “There’s a lot of competition out there. Your ex, for instance.”

  His humor dissipates my angst.

  “He’s not real competition. You know that,” I say flirtatiously.

  “I’m sure there’s more where he comes from.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  He stays silent as my eyes trail the table again.

  “So, I guess my secret’s out now, isn’t it?” I say, looking at him again.

  “There’s always a risk,” he mutters, smiling charmingly. “But I’ll make sure that you’re gonna think about me when I’m gone.”

  I toss a glance away to hide my grin.

  I’m sure he already knows that I’m thinking about him way more than I should.

  “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  “I’ll show you,” he says, taking my hand and rising to his feet.

  I mirror his move.

  10

  Eve

  His hands go down on me with patience and affection, brushing my hair away from my shoulders before he unbuttons my pajamas, and peels off my top.

  My skin rebels with goosebumps and tingles that run down my legs.

  Tipping his gaze down, he cups my breasts and studies them for a moment, his thumbs brushing my nipples with soft motions.

  He tears one hand away from my chest and splays his fingers below my collarbones as if he wants to measure my body with a secret technique, known only by him.

  His right hand slides to my neck, traces my shoulder and my arm before it goes back to my left breast. Smoothly he runs both his hands down, sneaks his fingers under my elastic waistband and inside my pants before he rolls them down. He nudges me to walk out of them.

  Propping one hand on his shoulder, I’m doing that, standing.

  He rises tall in front of me.

  Still clothed, but not for long.

  He brings his hand at the back of his neckline and peels his top off.

  Slowly, he unfastens his belt under my smiling eyes. He works his fly open but doesn’t take his jeans off before he sweeps me off the ground, lifts me in the air and deposits me on my bed.

  “Do not move,” he says as I crawl upright and lean against the headboard.

  He cuffs my ankles and pulls me back.

  My legs stay open, his hands on my feet as my back hits the mattress.

  I tilt my head to look at him.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, smiling.

  “Be quiet.”

  I laugh, watching him hover over me. His hands leave my ankles before he drags his palms up. His lips land on the lower part of my inner thigh.

  He kisses my skin while he runs his other hand up between my thighs.

  Out of reflex, I pull up again. He stops me with one gesture and more kisses on my thigh.

  Slowly, I relax.

  “That’s better,” he says as he tilts his gaze up.

  He moves his lips along my leg before he starts kissing me on my stomach.

  His hands rest on either side of me as he covers me with kisses.

  Kiss by kiss, he enlivens every part of me. First, he relaxes me completely and then he arouses me with sensual kisses. Kisses that inch closer to my sex. Kisses that cater to my most sensitive areas.

  His lips overwhelming my senses in the most delicious way.

  He pulls back a little and wedges his chest between my legs. Propped on his elbows, he cuffs the top of my thighs and keeps my legs open for him as he thoroughly begins to kiss my sex.

  A shudder falls through me every time he touches me. I push up to my elbows as well, eager to see him.

  He flicks his gaze at me as he swirls his tongue on my clit while I drown in pleasure only by looking at him.

  His eyes break away from mine as he tilts his head and starts stroking and enticing my entrance with his open mouth kisses and flicks of his tongue.

  My sex gets wet against his mouth.

  Slowly, I fall back, sinking into the mattress.

  Slowly, I slide my fingers into his hair.

  Slowly, I start to roll my hips.

  And quickly, I start to feel the pleasure grow.

  He gently bites my clit when I least expect it, making me jolt against his face.

  He laughs as he leaves a kiss on the swollen flesh and slides his finger into me.

  “I’m gonna come...” I say a little panicked.

  “That’s the idea.”

  I pull up again.

  He lifts his gaze at me and winks before he pushes up and sheds his jeans.

  My mouth falls open the moment he straightens and gives me a full view of his hard, curved up erection, jutting in the air.

  He wraps his fist around it as he motions at me.

  “Turn.”

  I’m usually better than that at reading the clues, but now I just can peel my eyes away from his cock.

  “I’ll send you pictures of it. I promise,” he says with self-deprecating humor, smiling as I study his veiny shaft.

  I roll to my side, not all the way on my belly before he slides next to me.

  The window and the drapes and the winter night reigning outside fill my view while his chest lines my back and his hot erection slips between my legs.

  He slides the tip in while I roll my hips, eager to feel him more.

  He makes sure he gets his way, so he leaves me hanging.

  Slowly, he starts to kiss my shoulder.

  “I can’t have what I want?” I ask, smiling.

  “You do have what you want. It’s just that you are too impatient.”

  I flick my gaze over my shoulder. Our eyes meet.

  “Do I?”

  He smiles, mysteriously.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He holds my gaze but not for long before he lowers his eyes and kisses the back of my shoulder again.

  And that’s when I see his bruises. Dark spots on his neck and chest.

  “What is that?”

  “What?”

  “The marks on your neck.”

  “Got them this morning.”

  “What?” I blurt out, shifting my position, losing my connection with him.

  He palms his erection while I turn to him.

  “What do you mean you got them this morning? Who gave them to you?”

  His eyes fill with a smile.

  “It’s not funny, Christian.”

  “What do you think they are?”

  “I don’t know? Hickeys?”

  “Hickeys?”

  He starts laughing.

  “That’s what you think of me?”

  “I’m doing my best not to.”

  “And you fail miserably.”

  “Seriously. What is it?” I ask, my heart jumping in my chest.

  He leans to me, his eyes diving deep into mine.

  “Look at them closely.”

  I look. They’re red and blue. Their contour smooth. One of them is square shaped.

  “Who did that to you?” I ask with a softer voice, my chest hollow.

  “You are so beautiful when you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not...”

  I pause. Seemingly, I make no headway with him.

  He keeps smiling, amused, bringing back that thought that I’m dealing with someone who somehow is much younger than me.

  I don’t like to be jealous. And I don’t want to be set up and stirred up like that.

  It does me no good.

  It does him no good. But I don’ know how to explain this to him.

  “I am not jealous.”

  He searches my eyes.

  “Yes, you are. You don’t trust me.”

  “It’s not because I am jealous. It’s because there are things I don’t know about you.”

  He tips his gaze to my lips, guarded for a moment before he locks my eyes again.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “How did you get those bruises.”

  “I’m a fighter,” he says without flinching.

  “Fighter? You mean combative sports?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I get paid to be part of a promotional event. I also train other people. I no longer fight in competitions. I used to, but I took a break from that.”

  “May I see you fighting?”

  “Of course. Do you really want to?”

  I ponder for a moment, his eyes locked with mine.

  I soften inside.

  “Is it bloody?”

  “Not anymore. But it’s still a fight. And I get bruises from time to time.”

  “How does your opponent look like?”

  He breathes out a chuckle.

  “Worse. And I bet he doesn’t have a jealous beautiful woman in his bed right now.”

  “You shouldn’t make fun of these things.”

  “I’m not. It’s reality.”

  “Okay...”

  I muse over his words a little more.

  “Are you doing this on the side?”

  He laughs again and looks down for a moment a grin crawling to his eyes.

  “Yeah... Sort of.”

  “Along with other stuff.”

  He swings his eyes up.

  “Such as?”

  “Me, for instance.”

  His chest rocks with laughter.

  “Nice try.”

  I smile.

  “I’m not doing you on the side. I told you already,” he says.

  Slowly, I lean closer to him, my hand sliding on top of his.

  “I know that you did, but I love to hear it over and over again, and what I like even better is you to show it to me.”

  He releases a soft chuckle.

  “You get better at this,” he says teasingly as I sneak my hand beneath his hardness and cuff his warm flesh.

  “I’ll never be as good as you, Mysterious Man.”

  Laughing, he crashes on his back, my hand on his shaft.

  “I think my job is done here,” he says, tossing me a slanted gaze. “I can leave you alone for a week.”

  “Because I’m hooked on you?”

  “Yup.”

  “This goes both ways.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me and curls his lips into a crooked smile.

  “You better keep the other women at bay, or I’ll unleash hell on you. I know how passionate Italian ladies are,” I warn him.

  I pause.

  Grinning, he bites his lip.

  “I’m half Italian,” I add.

  “I have Italian blood too.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. My father’s side.”

  I look at him, intrigued.

  “So, where exactly are you from?”

  “I was born in Lisbon.”

  “Your English is perfect.”

  “My mom’s American. And I attended an American school overseas.”

  I stay quiet for a moment, absorbing the information.

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “I have an older brother. We didn’t grow up together. Our parents went separate ways before I was born. You?”

  “No. No siblings.”

  A few more moments of silence slip by.

  “Do you feel better now that you know more about me?”

  I nod.

  “Yes. Is that why you live in a hotel?”

  “Partly. I didn’t want to commit to a place until I knew for sure that I wanted to live there for a while.”

  “Do you know now?” I ask, crushing my mounds against his chest.