AFTER LEAVING ANDREW’S flat, they walked two blocks north to a bus stop. He held her hand and pointed to various landmarks, his voice somber. Gwen sipped a steaming latte and cooed. Even the milk tasted extra fresh.
Andrew chatted on about how the public transportation was fairly reliable, but then put his head down to hide his frustration. Like it troubled him to think about her being in that city all by herself. It gave her pause as well. In Darling Cove each member of her family lived no more than a five-minute drive away.
After checking her out of the hotel, they reached the office and she found the same harsh stares when they’d left the night before. Andrew had not let go of her hand this time, though. He strode through the Prada corridors with strong shoulders, proud that she belonged to him. If he were a new man now, it showed more than ever. He introduced her to everyone they passed. Everyone greeted her in Italian, to which she replied with warm nods and lots of grazies.
Andrew chuckled walking away from the creative director.
“What?” Gwen poked his ribs.
“Stefania asked how the weather was in New York. She’s going there next week. You said, ‘ thank you.’”
She would have to work harder to increase her knowledge of the beautiful language.
The rest of the morning, Andrew whispered in her ear all the words she struggled to recall. For every word she got right, he treated her to a kiss. Talk about positive reinforcement!
All delight, enjoyment, and out-of-this-world sex aside, this was still a business trip.
Andrew parked her in his office and booted up his laptop. “I got an email back from the Paris team. They can do a call tomorrow morning.”
“Right.” From her work bag, she pulled out her spiral notebook.
“Um, ever hear about this thing called the computer?” he mocked her adorably.
She tugged his laptop closer and tapped on the keys the way he did, a series of one-finger slams.
“When you learn to type properly—” She halted mid-sentence, her breath sucked in by a startled gasp.
Slapping at the keys had opened a folder chock-full of photos, of her.
The name on the folder startled her even more. My Gwen.
She stared up at him.
“I took those in L.A,” he said softly.
Her fingers brought the cursor to the file folder and she read the date stamp. “You had just gotten back here and with all that had happened, you still considered me yours?”
“Does that scare you?” he asked quickly.
Without Andrew, the days in New York after L.A. had been suffocating and dark. Being with him now, that dead feeling got flipped on its side, cartwheeled, and split apart into a thousand
unrecognizable pieces.
Thank God! Andrew had brought her back to life, too.
“It takes a lot more than that to scare me, mister.”
“Good.”
After work, she settled into Andrew’s flat, taking over most of the closet. He sat on the velvet sofa looking at dinner menus from local trattorias. She considered sitting next to him to have a look as well, but a wild burst of passion overtook her.
She stood and treated him to a strip-tease. Although, she planned to give herself to him, so it wouldn’t be much of a tease.
“Is your dress that uncomfortable?” Andrew’s jaw dropped watching her.
Stupid, adorable man, he thought an itchy dress made her want to be nude around him.
She sat on the opposite side of the sofa and spread her legs, wanting to feel the velvet upholstery against her body when he took her hard and good. If he got around to it.
“You can keep looking at those menus if you want. I’ll be right here,” she purred touching herself.
Andrew tossed the menus in the air and reached to loosen his tie.
“No,” she cried out and covered his hand. “Keep it on. Keep it all on and take me.”
Andrew’s massive body sprang off the sofa and into the bedroom. He came out with a condom wrapper in his mouth and he lowered his zipper with anxious hands.
With his Prada slacks lowered just under his beautiful ass, he cupped her bottom and started a slow rhythm that exploded into blinding ecstasy. Twice.
DURING THE CONFERENCE call with Paris on Thursday, Andrew kept shifting in his seat. Being with Gwen all day had a viscous downside. He’d been walking around half erect most of the time because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. If there were a way to brand Gwen, he would.
By noon, her perfume had dissolved from his clothes and he needed to be on top of her again.
Soon.
She stood and addressed the Paris sourcing team, pacing, as if that made it easier for her to think.
He’d seen her do this back in New York. She commanded the conversation and drove him crazy while she did it. The tight pencil skirt showed off her figure a little too nicely. Damn, her curves made him melt. He wanted to sink his teeth into every rounded edge. She offered him an easy smile and a wink.
Her soft demeanor, and the languid way she moved her hands as she spoke ate away at all rational thinking.
Watching her interact with others in that Milan office, other men, Italian men who clearly wanted her, unnerved the hell out of him. If she had to work in Milan, alone, she’d be hounded non-stop.
He pulled at his shirt collar for air, watching her. Every breath she took and every rise and fall in the tone of her voice spelled her out perfectly to him. He finally figured out who she was and what she was about.
He also got a handle on what he’d been feeling. The angst. The excitement. The craving. Love. He was in love. He recognized how love made him feel. What it did to his body and his mind. He’d been in love before. Although this felt different. More complete. Andrew had his family’s back this time, too.
Yep, he was hooked. By the cattle prod sticking out of his pants, it was also clear Andrew was the one branded. For life.
THE FINGERNAIL SPLITTING sex from holding the bed sheets so tight had been dinner and dessert that night for Gwen. Being with Andrew, knowing they would be apart soon made him feel like a meal she needed to shove in her mouth before the plate got taken away. He tasted like a deep soothing gulp of wine needed to melt the ache of their pending separation.
Before she came to Milan, she only imagined his life here, this flat, this bed. Now she had memories, real and raw, to bring home and obsess over. The sight before her now—Andrew lying in that bed, face down, still naked with the top sheet resting just above his ass, stilled her. He made her lose her breath again and again. It hurt not to touch him.
She pulled the sheet away and ran her fingernails along the entire length of his body. Up his rock-hard calf, over his perfectly round butt, and across his back.
“Hey!” He squirmed and rolled over. “That tickles.”
Much better view.
She lifted her leg, straddled his hips and danced her fingers up his torso. Dime-sized beads of sweat from their lovemaking moments earlier dotted his shoulders.
She loved how the hair around his navel darkened when it became wet. “Better?” she asked.
“No. You’re going in the wrong direction.”
Pressing her bare chest into his, she stroked his cheek. “Are you sure?” She smoothed the skin under his eyes.
“I like that.”
She’d been ready to respond, but the sound of his cell phone cut her off. Understanding that sometimes Prada came first, she un-wedged his phone from between the pillows.