My mouth dropped when I looked closer and realized what was on it: SpaghettiOs. The funniest part was the garnish of basil in the corner to make it look fancy.
“Turns out, all I know how to do is open a can and heat the contents.”
“But look how nicely you plated everything.”
“I was hoping the garnish would distract from the otherwise pathetic offering. Does it count as cooking if it comes out of a can?”
“You know what? I’m going to eat this. And I’m gonna enjoy it. You know why?”
“Why?” He grinned.
“Because you made it, even if that only entailed opening the can and heating it up. You said you’d never made anything for anyone. I’m honored to be the first.” I hadn’t had SpaghettiOs since I was a kid. I took a bite, surprised to find that they tasted better than I remembered. “This is surprisingly good…tangy.”
“Yeah?”
“Or maybe I’m just so hungry that anything tastes good.”
“Probably the latter. But I’ll take it as a win.”
Holding the fork up to his mouth, I said, “Taste.”
Leo took a bite and spoke with his mouth full. “It’s not terrible.”
I ended up feeding him random bites of SpaghettiOs as we talked and laughed.
This night, this “dinner,” even if a bit ridiculous, was everything to me. There are some moments you just know you’ll never forget, and this SpaghettiOs supper was one of them.
After I finished eating, Leo took my plate into the kitchen.
He returned to his seat on the couch next to me. My eyes fell to his mouth. Licking some remaining wine off my lips, I hoped so badly that he’d kiss me.
It seemed he’d picked up on my signal, because within seconds he leaned in, breathing erratically before taking my mouth with his. I gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because he laughed against my lips. As he leaned over me on the sofa, pressing his chest into mine, Leo kissed me as if his life depended on it, as if he were making up for all the time this week when he’d held back.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I relaxed into the kiss, forcing away the voice inside my head that was ready to remind me I was setting myself up for a broken heart. I kissed him harder, moaning against his mouth and savoring his taste. He groaned as he took my bottom lip between his teeth and pulled ever so gently before deepening the kiss once again. From the commanding way he kissed, it was easy to imagine what he might be like in bed. I suspected he knew exactly how to please a woman.
As the kiss escalated, somehow I ended up under him. Rather than resist the change, I opened my legs, allowing him to position himself between them. Through his jeans, I felt the heat of his erection as he grinded himself against my throbbing clit. Leo lowered his mouth, kissing down the length of my neck. Then he suddenly stopped, resting his mouth against my skin and breathing against me for several seconds.
He looked up at me in a daze before pulling away. “I…think I should stop.”
“Why?”
“Because it started to feel like you weren’t going to stop me if I went further.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have,” I said honestly. My body yearned for his return as a coldness swept over me.
“Felicity…” he whispered.
“What?”
“I was seconds from being inside of you. At least that’s where I wanted to be. But I know that’s not what you want right now, even if you were getting carried away.” He leaned his head on the back of the couch and turned to me. “I lose all sense of judgment when I’m kissing you, smelling you, touching you. I am by no means new to this…but this level of need is new to me. I’ve never been so drawn to someone I also need to be careful with. I’ve never cared this much before.”
He raked his hands through his hair. “You asked me earlier what I ache for. And I wasn’t completely specific. I said ‘more time’, and of course that’s true. But I ache for so much more when it comes to you. I ache for everyday, mundane things that I’ve never yearned for—like date night, going out to dinner, and coming home to curl up on the couch together. I’ve never longed for that with anyone. Ever. Couldn’t have cared less about such things before. But I also ache to lie with you at night…to worship your body, to trace my tongue over every single one of your freckles, to take my time with you and give you the best fucking orgasm you’ve ever dreamed of. And if you don’t think you’ll ever be ready for that with me, I need to be careful not to push things. But I can’t lie to you. I want that. I want all of that with you, Felicity. So badly.”
I was barely able to breathe. “Where the hell did you come from, Leo?” I shut my eyes and exhaled. “This is so fucked-up. I want you, too. I’m just scared.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I sat up, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know I should probably head home, but I don’t want to.”
“Stay the night with me, then. We don’t have to go upstairs. We’ll stay right here and talk until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore. Just don’t leave.”
I looked up at him. “Okay. I won’t.” Nestling my body into the crook of his arm, I said, “Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story?”
“Take me to the English countryside. Virtually. Take me home with you. Tell me what it’s like. Pretend you’ve just arrived back. Tell me what happens. Describe for me what it all looks like.”
“All right.” He rested his chin on my head and wrapped me in his arms. “There are rolling green hills everywhere. It’s just finished raining, so I can see a rainbow in the distance as the driver approaches our property.”
“Tell me about your house.”
“It’s very…large, a stately home.”
“Like a castle?”
“Not quite.”
“Like Downton Abbey?”
“Like a version of that, perhaps. Made of brick.”
“What happens when you go inside?”
“When I get there, it’s neither my mother nor father who greet me, but rather Camila, our house manager.”
“What does she do exactly?”
“Oversees the staff.”
“How many people work there?”
“About ten.”
“Wow.”
“It’s a bit much, but that’s how it’s always been from generation to generation.”
“Your parents won’t greet you when you arrive?”
“If I’ve arrived during the day, Mum is probably off at some meeting with her friends. My father is likely at his office off site…if he’s feeling up to working on that particular day.”
“Okay, so it’s Camila you see first. What is she like?”
“She’s tall and can be a bit scary.” He laughed. “She keeps the house in order, though. Older…in her fifties. Blond hair tied back tightly in a bun. Very serious demeanor but manages to break a smile once in a while if I work hard enough at it. I love making her laugh because it’s not something she offers very easily.”
I smiled. “What’s the first thing you do?”