Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (48 page)

She looks at Anthony’s beautiful face and thinks about how the man behind it is even more beautiful. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. Too easy.

“I don’t know.” It’s a cowardly answer and she hates it, but what is she supposed to say? “How many women have said they were in love with you? I’ll bet it’s another big number.”

He shakes his head. “You’re asking the wrong question this time.”

“I am?”

“What you should be asking is how many women have I said it to?”

“How many have you?”

Anthony doesn’t reply right away and then shrugs. “Some people fall in love easily.”

“That’s true.” Natalie figures he must be one of them, though she doubts he’s in love with her. “I can never decide if they’re lucky or not.”

“Were you ever in love with anyone besides your ex-husband?

The question causes a small ache in her heart. “No, he was the only one.”

“That must have been difficult for you when it ended.”

“It wasn’t easy.” She doesn’t want to talk about Peter, though.

They’re both quiet. Rain has started outside and Natalie can hear it tapping on the roof. Sitting up with the sheet tucked under her arms, she lets her eyes wander around Anthony’s bedroom. It gives the impression of a space that was hastily cleaned and she smiles to herself. There’s a big screen TV on the wall across from his bed. There’s also a framed poster from the original
Star Wars
movie and another small poster with a picture of outer space.

“That’s an ad for the first telescope I ever owned,” he says, seeing where her eyes have landed.

“Do you still have it?”

“I gave it to Serena.”

There’s a hamper in the corner stuffed with dirty clothes. Natalie likes the idea of Anthony doing something as mundane as laundry. There’s a bookcase with a small desk attached, crammed with books and papers. His familiar battered satchel is on the desk along with his notebook computer. Looking around, she decides it’s just a guy’s bedroom. No great secrets revealed

“You should give me a tour of your house, so I can learn more about the mysterious Anthony.”

“There’s nothing mysterious about me.” His hand reaches up to stroke her back from where he’s lying. “I’m an open book.”

“Hardly,” she snorts. “You only want to appear like an open book.”

“That’s silly. Go on, ask me anything. I’ll answer it.”

“You mean you’ll cleverly deflect it.”

Anthony chuckles. “What is it you want to know so badly?”

Natalie thinks it over. His hand is still caressing her back and she lets her eyes fall shut, giving in to the sensation.
What exactly do I want to know?

“Just tell me something,” she says softly. “Something intimate.”

“You already know me intimately. I even shared my panty-sniffing perversion with you.”

A smile tugs at Natalie’s mouth.

“In fact, why don’t
you
tell me something for a change?” he says. “Something nobody knows.”

She wonders if she should. There’s a lot he doesn’t know and she’s good at deflecting, too. “I grew up poor.” Natalie’s eyes open as she runs her fingers over the white sheets. She doesn’t look at Anthony.

His hand stills on her back. “I thought your dad was some big time poker player?”

“He was, but he was also a compulsive gambler who spent everything as soon as he won it.”

“What about your mom?”

“She was an artist who liked her wine too much and she thought the sun rose and set on my father. I basically raised Lindsay.”

“I see.” He lets out a deep breath. “Where are they now?”

“My mom lives in Arizona with her second husband, though I rarely see her, and my dad died.”

Anthony’s hand continues with the caressing. “So you’ve had to be tough.” His voice is a low murmur, but she detects a note of admiration.

“I didn’t have a choice. No one’s ever fought for me. I’ve always had to fight for myself.”

“What about Peter? Didn’t he take care of you?”

Natalie shakes her head. “No, Lindsay always said he treated me like I was his mother, and it’s basically true.”

She pulls away from his hand and lies down beside him again, so they’re facing each other. “I haven’t cried since I was a little girl.”

His expression grows incredulous. “Seriously?”

Natalie nods.

“That can’t be right. Why?”

“I just stopped one day. I don’t even remember why.”

Anthony studies her, his dark eyes compassionate. There’s a part of her that wishes she could let herself sink into them. Stay there forever.

“How about you? Do you ever cry?” she asks curiously.

“Of course I cry. I’m Italian—we’re always crying about something.”

Natalie smiles. “What’s the last thing you cried about?”

“I cried when I saw I was out of cream for my espresso this morning.”

She can’t help her giggle. “Now that’s something to cry about.”

“How about when you cut onions, do you cry then?” he asks.

“My eyes will water, but that’s it.”

“So it’s not a physical thing.”

“No, it’s emotional. I didn’t even cry when Peter left me.”

“Damn.”

“I know.” She swallows. “I wish I could. But then sometimes I’m glad I can’t, you know?”

Anthony frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

“So what’s the last thing you cried about for real?” she asks.

He’s silent, thinking it over. “When my grandfather died. He was a mathematician, so we had a lot in common. I admired him—he was a good man and always kind to me.”

“When did he die?”

“A few years ago. He left me a little money. It’s how I was able to afford the building where you’re leasing the bakery. Plus, I bought the Ducati.”

“He was Italian?”

Anthony nods. “My mom’s dad. He was a professor at one of the universities in Rome.”

“Wow, you do have a lot in common with him.”

“He was definitely a role model, though I know I disappointed him.”

“Not the doctor thing again.”

“No.” He tucks his hand under his head. “When I married Nicole, we didn’t do it in the church and I got divorced, anyway. Though he loved Serena, he was very traditional and frowned on the whole thing.”

“Do you think you’ll ever marry again and have more kids?”

Anthony shrugs. “Maybe. I’d definitely do it differently next time. Nicole and I eloped, so we didn’t have any family at our wedding, and it caused a lot of bad feelings. My parents never got over it.”

“Would you marry in the church next time?”

“I don’t know.” He thinks it over. “I don’t really care about that. I’m not particularly religious and being divorced, I doubt they’d let me, anyway. Mostly I just want my family there.”

“Peter and I got married at the courthouse. He was in dental school and it was all we could afford at the time. When Chloe was born, he was just starting his practice.”

“Why didn’t you guys have more kids?”

Natalie lies on her back and stares at the ceiling. Old resentments come to her with a fresh clarity. “I wanted more, but Peter didn’t. And now I’m too old.”

“That’s not true. You could have more if you wanted.”

“I’d have to find another husband first.”

Anthony gives a dry chuckle. “That would be helpful.”

Something occurs to Natalie. “Is that why you’re so obsessed with birth control? Because of Serena?”

“What do you mean? I’m not obsessed with birth control.”

“Yes, you are. You still insist on condoms, even though I’m on the pill and we’re both safe.”

She’s watching him and she can see the embarrassed expression creeping up Anthony’s face.

“I’ll bet that’s why you’re so serious in bed, too,” she says.

He stares at her.

“You don’t want to lose control.”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Will you take a credit card for the psychoanalysis, or do you only accept cash?”

Anthony is so deft at making jokes, but she can see she’s hit a bullseye. She thinks about how hard it must have been for him to become a teenage father. Especially someone with a moral compass as strong as she suspects Anthony’s is.

“I’m sure we can work out a payment that involves neither cash nor credit,” she says, going along with his joke, letting her eyes glance downward.

“Yeah? I like what I’m hearing.”

Rolling onto her stomach, she moves closer to him on the bed. He watches as she leans over and kisses him softly, lingering so it’s something slow and sensual. Anthony shifts so he’s on his back and reaches beneath the covers to run his hands down her body.

“Lie on top of me,” he tells her.

Natalie slides over so she’s straddling him and then scoots down, his cock pressing into her stomach.

They kiss some more—long exploratory kisses, as she stays on top and slides her body slowly against his. The heat between them simmers. Her hair keeps falling around them like a curtain and he gathers it in his hands, drawing it back.

His eyes roam her face. “Look at you, Miss Natalie. So beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say that,” she whispers.

“I’m saying it because it’s true. You should believe me.”

“Okay . . . I believe you.”

She’s balancing on her arms, hands pressed into Anthony’s shoulders. He reaches up to caress her breasts.

“Move higher,” he says. “Press them into my face.”

Natalie does as he asks, putting her hands out on the headboard to balance herself. Anthony lets out low noises of approval as he grasps her, lapping at her nipples, then smothering himself. His stubble is abrasive, but it excites her, too. She starts to squirm on top of him.

“God,” he murmurs after a while. “That’s fantastic.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am.” He runs his hands down her backside. “But now I have other plans for you. Why don’t you scoot up some more and sit on my face?”

Natalie watches him and bites her lip. “I have some plans of my own, actually.”

Anthony looks at her questioningly.

“You’ve been so generous with me, but I haven’t returned the favor.” She watches the spark in his eyes and knows he understands her.

“Are you sure?”

She shifts down, kissing his chest, then stops to look up at him. “I would have done it sooner, but to be honest—I haven’t done this in years, and you’ve probably had women who are amazingly good at it.”

His brows draw together. “Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. It’s just you and me in this bed.”

“I know.”

Anthony caresses her shoulders. “Look, I only want this if you do.”

Natalie smiles. “I want it.”

Thank God.
Not that he didn’t mean what he said to Natalie. He’s never been one of those guys who likes a blow job no matter what. Over the years, he’s found if the woman isn’t into it, it just isn’t as pleasurable for him.

All the same, just the thought of Natalie’s mouth on his cock gets him hot.

She’s still giving him a little smile and Anthony tries not to appear overeager.

Dude, relax.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds. She kisses his chest some more and works her way down.

When he opens them, he can see her blonde head bent over his stomach and he’s grateful for the bedroom lamp. It would be torture to have her mouth on him and not be able to see her.

Those full breasts are pillow soft, pressing right into him as she continues trailing light kisses. She kneels between his legs and takes hold of his erection.

His heart rate kicks up as she examines him this way and that. Her cool fingers handle him gently. He wonders if for once she’s glad there’s light, too.

“You have a good-looking penis,” she declares. “It’s as gorgeous as the rest of you.”

Anthony chokes with laughter. “Thanks.”

But then she lowers her head and puts her mouth on him and his laughter stops.

God.

He reaches down to lift her hair out of the way. “I have to see you do this,” he tells her, his breathing unsteady.

She gives him a saucy look and helps by tossing her long hair over to one side.

At this point, nothing can pull his eyes away from the sight of Natalie swallowing him. That sexy mouth wraps around his cock, then pulls out to swirl her pink tongue. He’s imagined this a hundred times, but the reality is far better than any fantasy.

What a sight.

He reaches down and slides his fingers into her hair, cradling her head. Sweat breaks out all over his body. He continues to watch, eyes half-lidded with lust.

She was right about what she said. Fumbling a bit, she does seem less experienced than other women he’s been with. It’s turning him on even more, though. There’s never any performance with Natalie. Her enthusiasm is so real. Her passion authentic.

The sensation is wet and good. The sounds she makes and his own harsh breathing fill the room. She strokes his balls—then tugs. Puts her mouth on them.

A low groan escapes him.

And then Natalie does something surprising.

She shifts her body up and presses his cock right between her luscious breasts and the sight nearly ends his control.

His hands fall to his side and he’s gripping the sheets. Part of him wants to close his eyes to try and hold it together, to start reciting the Periodic Table, but the other part of him doesn’t want to miss anything.