Read Online Falling for Italy by Melinda De Ross - Free Book Online

window; it seemed the woman of his dreams had a big windows fetish. Or was the fetish applicable just for the word big ? He hoped he qualified there. He’d never had any complaints and she seemed more than satisfied during the night with the size and functioning of his equipment.
    He grinned cockily, shaking his head, and went into the bathroom. It was indeed small, blue and white, having a tiny shower cabin and blessedly hot water. He stood under the jet, letting the waterfall pour on his face and body, relaxing the tense muscles, which had been in overdrive the past twenty-four hours.
    He toweled quickly, then brushed his teeth with a spare toothbrush he found on a shelf. When he went into the living room again, he winced at the state his new suit was in. After some digging, he found his boxers, shirt, pants, one sock and his suit jacket. Dressed, he was frantically looking for the other sock, when he spotted it onto a potted plant. He pulled it on, and then felt up the plant’s dirt. It was desert-dry. He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water, which he poured into the pot.
    “Hang in there, darling. She’ll come around,” he told the plant, sighing.
    It looked like an African violet, though he couldn’t be sure. His mother, Giovanna, had a love for plants. When she and Vincente—his father—were still a couple, they lived in an enormous house, with lovely gardens. Now his mother lived in Rome, with her second, new and young husband, Fabrizzio Angeli, a successful businessman. Giovanni and Linda had wagered on how long it would take her to bankrupt him. Linda had bet two years, but Giovanni gave the man at least four. Not that he doubted his mother’s capacity for spending money, but he knew the guy to be a good investor.
    He picked up most of the things scattered on the floor and put the blanket back on the sofa. He was just turning on the TV when he heard Sonia open the door. She came in smelling of snow, doughnuts and fresh coffee.
    She put down the paper bag she was carrying, and took off her jacket and boots.
    “I thought you’d still be asleep,” she told him, coming to the sofa with the bag of goodies. “My, my, you’ve tidied up,” she said looking around, then back at him.
    “Of course. Unlike most men, I like tidiness. You’ve nearly killed that plant.”
    A pained expression clouded her face.
    “I forgot to water it again, haven’t I?”
    She sighed and sat on the couch, taking out a dozen doughnuts and two lattes.
    “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee. I hope this is fine.”
    Giovanni took his coffee and sipped, sitting next to her.
    “I usually drink it black, but this is fine. Thank you, cara ,” he said, smiling at her, taking a sugared doughnut from the box.
    She frowned.
    “You’ve called me that before. What does it mean?” she asked, biting into a chocolate doughnut.
    “It means darling. ”
    “I like the sound of that. They say Italian is one of the most romantic and melodious languages in the world. I tend to agree. I don’t understand a thing, but when you speak, it sounds so…sensual. You said many things to me in Italian last night,” she added, not looking him in the eyes. “What does guardami mean?”
    He put his coffee on the table next to the sofa. Encircling her waist with his arm, he drew her closer.
    “It means look at me . I remember when I told you that. The first time we made love.”
    He skimmed her lips with his, picking up fine traces of powdered sugar with the tip of his tongue. He felt her heartbeat quickening as he moved his hand on her ribcage. His abdomen muscles tightened and he groaned when he discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under the pink sweater.
    “Do you do this on purpose, to get me hard?” he whispered in her ear, as his finger found her nipple.
    She gasped. “No, I just…can’t stand wearing a bra. They’re too tight. But I’ll put one on, if you want.”
    “You’re kidding, right? I’d tear it in a