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Authors: Billy London
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cock.”
“He’s normally very shy. It’s all you.”
She lifted water-spiked lashes. “Out. I need a minute.”
He relented and took a step back. “Come back to the bedroom when you’re ready.”
Something suspicious-looking crossed her face. “I was thinking...”
“No, Francesca, you’re not going anywhere. Bedroom. Five minutes.”
“Macho bastard,” she mumbled. “All right. Just remember when I’m waddling around with a baby, that I gave you an out.”
“You’ve just painted the most amazing future. No outs.” He gave her one last kiss before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. Silly girl, as if that would make him run!
Chapter Eight
Frankie had spent a lot of the night looking up at the ceiling in Luca’s bedroom, calling to God at various volumes. Now she was wide awake, waiting for sleep, staring at the ceiling. They’d be fine. Maybe it was the minor lie about the pill. She’d only forgotten about yesterday’s tablet because she’d been all excited, and she’d taken it first thing in the morning to compensate. She would be absolutely fine. And disease free. Thank you God, because that would be absolutely worse than getting pregnant by a man she’d known for three days.
Luca had ceased his human vine plant act and moved onto his back, huge arm above his head and the bed sheets hovering around his waist. It made her grin. If people could see her now—especially those ones who kept telling her she had such a wonderful personality, shame she couldn’t lose some weight. They probably wouldn’t believe their own eyes, let alone that she hadn’t dropped a single thing into his food to make him stay with her.
He was very accident prone though, she thought, eyeing a myriad of fine scars that spanned the length of his chest. There was a long one on his hip; she’d felt the skin’s knitted work underneath her tongue. What she should ask him about was why he had a bullet wound in his foot. Maybe when they were in public. Luca was taller and heavier than her. It would take a bit more than a glass bowl to knock him out. Actually, all it would take was a small kiss to that same scar on his hip and he’d be limp. Useful tool for the back pocket.
Frankie shifted in the bed and imagined that Luca used to be a brawler. His calmness was unsettling, the type that one encountered in those who’d been to anger management classes or had found a way to control their emotions. She tended to be able to read people; it was part of her job. Shame it never worked as well on people she became close to.
She turned onto her side and snuggled against Luca’s arm. It was rather like cuddling iron, but there it was. He twitched. She smiled. He could tell she was next to him! How sweet was that?
His whole body jerked suddenly, making Frankie yelp in shock. She turned and snapped the side light on immediately. The arm that was casually lounging above his head slammed to his side, both hands clenching into fists. She’d read somewhere a long time ago never to wake up people in the midst of a nightmare by shaking them. Oh God, or was that for sleepwalking? Frankie decided to go gentle and pressed herself hard against him. She whispered in his ear, “Luca, you’re safe. I’m here. Wake up.”
She repeated herself over and over, rubbing her fingers over the clenched ones, until he gave a gasp and his eyes flew open. The hand not trapped by her own went instantly to his hairline. I get it, something happened to you. Tell me! He followed her gaze and winced.
Yeah, look uncomfortable, she thought, her insides still jangling with fear for him. “I’m sorry,” he breathed slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m fine.”
She waited a beat for him to start talking. Instead he rubbed his eyes. “Are you seriously not going to tell me what that was about?”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’m sorry for waking you.” Ooh, eek. Should I tell him I was worrying about our
“He’s normally very shy. It’s all you.”
She lifted water-spiked lashes. “Out. I need a minute.”
He relented and took a step back. “Come back to the bedroom when you’re ready.”
Something suspicious-looking crossed her face. “I was thinking...”
“No, Francesca, you’re not going anywhere. Bedroom. Five minutes.”
“Macho bastard,” she mumbled. “All right. Just remember when I’m waddling around with a baby, that I gave you an out.”
“You’ve just painted the most amazing future. No outs.” He gave her one last kiss before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. Silly girl, as if that would make him run!
Chapter Eight
Frankie had spent a lot of the night looking up at the ceiling in Luca’s bedroom, calling to God at various volumes. Now she was wide awake, waiting for sleep, staring at the ceiling. They’d be fine. Maybe it was the minor lie about the pill. She’d only forgotten about yesterday’s tablet because she’d been all excited, and she’d taken it first thing in the morning to compensate. She would be absolutely fine. And disease free. Thank you God, because that would be absolutely worse than getting pregnant by a man she’d known for three days.
Luca had ceased his human vine plant act and moved onto his back, huge arm above his head and the bed sheets hovering around his waist. It made her grin. If people could see her now—especially those ones who kept telling her she had such a wonderful personality, shame she couldn’t lose some weight. They probably wouldn’t believe their own eyes, let alone that she hadn’t dropped a single thing into his food to make him stay with her.
He was very accident prone though, she thought, eyeing a myriad of fine scars that spanned the length of his chest. There was a long one on his hip; she’d felt the skin’s knitted work underneath her tongue. What she should ask him about was why he had a bullet wound in his foot. Maybe when they were in public. Luca was taller and heavier than her. It would take a bit more than a glass bowl to knock him out. Actually, all it would take was a small kiss to that same scar on his hip and he’d be limp. Useful tool for the back pocket.
Frankie shifted in the bed and imagined that Luca used to be a brawler. His calmness was unsettling, the type that one encountered in those who’d been to anger management classes or had found a way to control their emotions. She tended to be able to read people; it was part of her job. Shame it never worked as well on people she became close to.
She turned onto her side and snuggled against Luca’s arm. It was rather like cuddling iron, but there it was. He twitched. She smiled. He could tell she was next to him! How sweet was that?
His whole body jerked suddenly, making Frankie yelp in shock. She turned and snapped the side light on immediately. The arm that was casually lounging above his head slammed to his side, both hands clenching into fists. She’d read somewhere a long time ago never to wake up people in the midst of a nightmare by shaking them. Oh God, or was that for sleepwalking? Frankie decided to go gentle and pressed herself hard against him. She whispered in his ear, “Luca, you’re safe. I’m here. Wake up.”
She repeated herself over and over, rubbing her fingers over the clenched ones, until he gave a gasp and his eyes flew open. The hand not trapped by her own went instantly to his hairline. I get it, something happened to you. Tell me! He followed her gaze and winced.
Yeah, look uncomfortable, she thought, her insides still jangling with fear for him. “I’m sorry,” he breathed slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m fine.”
She waited a beat for him to start talking. Instead he rubbed his eyes. “Are you seriously not going to tell me what that was about?”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’m sorry for waking you.” Ooh, eek. Should I tell him I was worrying about our
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