Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
And just like that, she falls apart for me.
Slow, and soft, and perfect.
*
We lie there for a while, tangled up in her sheets, again, bodies warm and heavy.
The room is quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of our breaths, but it’s a good silence - one that’s full of contentment.
Daphne is draped over me, her head resting against my chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles over my chest. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of her body against mine.
And then her stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl.
My chest rumbles with laughter before I can stop it.
"Was that you, or did a wild animal break into your apartment?"
She groans, burrowing deeper into me like that’ll make me forget what I just heard.
"Shut up. I had an early lunch, okay."
"The pizza," I remember suddenly, smirking. "The pizza I brought is still in the fridge, no?"
"Right," she mumbles, reluctant to move. "The pizza you promised me last night before we… got distracted. I had some earlier, but the rest of it is in the fridge."
I smirk, running my hand up and down the soft skin of her back.
"I brought it for moral support." My fingers dip lower, squeezing her waist. "Can't help it if I’m more distracting than carbs."
She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up, clearly preparing to get out of bed.
"I’ll go heat it up."
But before she can even swing her legs over the edge, I tighten my arm around her waist and pull her right back down against me, pressing my lips to her temple.
"No," I say firmly. "I’ll take care of it. You stay put."
She tilts her chin, blinking up at me in surprise.
"You'll heat up the pizza?"
"Shocking, I know," I smirk, fingers brushing her bare hip beneath the sheets. "But I can handle an oven, giornalista. I’m not completely useless outside the stadium."
"Debatable," she quips, but I see the way her face softens, the way her lips twitch, like she’s trying to hide how much she likes this.
I press another kiss to her temple, then slip out of bed, grabbing my boxers. I feel her watching me as I walk toward the kitchen, and the knowledge sends a rush of smug satisfaction straight to my chest.
Let her look.
She likes looking.
And fuck if I don’t like being looked at by her.
By the time I disappear from view, I hear the soft thump of her head hitting the pillow, and I smirk to myself as I pull open her fridge.
*
Fifteen minutes later, I return with the pizza box balanced in one hand, two bottles of water tucked under my arm.
"Delivery," I announce, setting everything down on the nightstand. "One slightly stale pizza, reheated to perfection."
Daphne props herself up on one elbow, reaching for a slice.
She takes a bite and hums in appreciation, clearly not giving a shit that it’s slightly overcooked.
We eat in comfortable silence, elbows brushing occasionally, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
For a guy who’s spent the better part of his career surrounded by noise - stadiums full of roaring fans, coaches barking instructions, the media constantly pressing in - this kind of quiet should be unsettling.
But with her, it’s not.
With her, it just is.
Eventually, I set my water bottle aside and tug her back into my arms, guiding her head onto my chest. My fingers find her hair, threading through the strands in slow, lazy strokes.
"You okay?" I murmur, my lips brushing the top of her head.
She exhales softly, nodding against my skin.
"Yeah. I think I am."
A satisfied hum rumbles through my chest as I press a quick kiss against her hair.
"Good."
I intertwine our fingers, my grip firm, my touch steady.
"And I meant what I said about Mark," I continue, my voice dropping slightly. "I’ll handle it. You just keep doing what you do best."
"What’s that?" she asks, teasing. "Getting into arguments with arrogant footballers?"
I chuckle, squeezing her hand.
"No."
I tilt my head slightly, pressing my lips to the edge of her jaw, just because I can.
"Being you. Smart. Stubborn. And brilliant at what you do."
She stills for just a fraction of a second.
Then she melts.
I feel it in the way her body relaxes against mine, in the way she exhales like she’s been holding onto something tight all day and is finally letting it go.
I don’t say anything else.
I just tighten my hold on her and let her lean.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Daphne
The first thing I notice when I wake up is that Matteo isn't here.
The second thing I notice is the text message waiting for me.
Morning, bella. Early training today. Didn’t want to wake you - you looked too cute drooling on my chest.
I groan and fling the phone onto the bed beside me.
I did not drool.
But I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips.
Shit.
I’ve got it bad.
Shaking my head, I roll out of bed and stretch, wincing slightly as the delicious ache between my legs from last night makes itself known.