The only thing I saw in the room that first night was the bed. Not the spectacular bay windows overlooking the river, not the dark hardwood floor, not the amazing artwork of the room ... nothing but the bed.
The bed like a battle field. The fragile rampart of the comforter crumbling to the floor followed by a defeated army of pillows. Slain on soft sheets I surrendered. I gave myself to Angelo's arms, his hands, his fingers, his mouth and when I did, the room became heaven.
I bucked, tossed and twisted. My entire body hummed, sang and soared while Angelo, taking his own sweet time, led me where he wanted me.
Diana didn’t believe in revisiting the past and Leo was the past.
She needed to look to the future and chef Angelo wanted to be that future.
Dark eyes, dark hair, dazzling smile he looked every bit as delicious as the food he prepared.