Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
After a couple of hours passed, I assumed he was down for the count. I changed into the tank top and basketball shorts I intended to sleep in, got comfortable on the sofa, and pulled up an ebook on my phone.
He appeared in the bedroom doorway nearly four hours after he’d fallen asleep, looking adorably disheveled. The blanket was wrapped around him like a shawl, and he was wearing just his briefs, even though I’d gathered his clothes and left them for him on a chair in the bedroom.
“I’m so sorry! I totally Goldilocksed you,” he blurted, as he hurried over to me.
I set aside my phone and asked, “You did what?”
“I fell asleep in your bed. You know, like Goldilocks did in the story.”
“Oh. Well, no worries.”
He looked distressed as he perched on the edge of the sofa. “I was only going to lie down for a minute. What time is it?”
“Close to eleven, I think.”
“I can’t believe I slept that long! Why didn’t you wake me?”
I shrugged. “You were obviously tired, so it seemed best to let you sleep.”
“I feel like such a jerk. One orgasm and it was lights out without doing anything for you in return. You didn’t even get to come.”
“It’s totally fine. Are you hungry? I can order room service.”
“I am, but didn’t you eat already?”
“No. I was waiting to see if you’d wake up.”
Now he really looked upset. “You must be starving.”
“I’m used to eating late. It’s very common in Italy, where I grew up.”
“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel guilty.”
“No, it’s true. Besides the fact that I was raised this way, I also tend to keep odd hours. Dinner at midnight isn’t unusual for me.” Actually, I was more likely to eat at nine or ten, but I didn’t want him to feel bad.
“What do you do for a living?”
I’d walked right into that, it was my own fault for mentioning my odd schedule. I didn’t know what to say, so I bought myself time by telling him, “I’ll make up a story for you after we eat. For now, let me find the room service menu.”
I got up and crossed the room as he asked, “So, we’re really doing that? Intentionally lying to each other?”
“That was the plan, unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I’m all for it, but I’m not sure how much creativity I can muster. Will you notice if I steal the plot of The Fast and the Furious and try to pass it off as my fake backstory?”
I grinned and told him, “I’ve never seen that movie and only sort of know what it’s about, so you can definitely get away with plagiarizing it.”
“How have you never seen it? It’s a classic!”
“We seem to have very different definitions of that word.”
He shot me a look and got up. “I’m going to get dressed, and then we’re going to talk about what other classics you’ve missed out on. Please order me the cheapest thing on the menu, maybe a cup of soup or something.”
“Dinner is my treat.”
“Thanks, but if it’s anything like that last hotel, the prices are going to be ridiculously overinflated. I don’t want to waste your money.”
He hurried to the bedroom, and I proceeded to order a multicourse meal for the two of us, since I knew we were both hungry.
The food arrived twenty minutes later, and I asked the server to set up the table beside the glass wall, so we could enjoy the view. The skyline was even more spectacular at night, lighting up the darkness. I’d thought Dante had totally overdone it when he booked this suite for me, but now I understood he’d had my date in mind. I owed him an extra thank you for this undeniably romantic setting.
When Armando took a seat at the table and saw how much I’d ordered, he said, “You really must be famished.”
“This is for both of us, and as I said, it’s my treat.”
“You shouldn’t have spent so much on me.”
“I’ll always insist on spoiling you whenever we’re together, so you need to get used to it.” Before he could argue, I fed him a bite of bread with warm brie and fig jam and asked, “What do you think?”
“That’s shockingly delicious.”
We worked our way through the meal slowly. He savored each dish, commenting on the way it was made and occasionally murmuring, mostly to himself, “I wonder if I could do something like that at the diner.”
I’d ordered two different desserts, and at the end of the meal, I asked him which one he wanted. “I don’t know how to choose,” he said, staring at them with wide eyes. “They both look amazing.”
“Then we’ll share them.”
I picked up a spoon and fed him a dollop of chocolate mousse, and he dropped his gaze and became slightly flushed. When I tried to feed him another spoonful, he took the spoon from me and said, “I think I like that too much.”