Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

I smiled. “Good.”

“You terrify me.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Because in all my life, I have never wanted to be as close to someone as I want to be to you. I’ve never wanted to make someone happy the way I want to make you happy. I’ve never wanted to protect someone the way I want to protect you.” He dropped his head to speak low in my ear. “And I’ve never wanted to do to another person the things I want to do to you. Oh my God, the things I’m going to do to you…”

My stomach fluttered at the gravelly intensity in his voice. “What’s so terrifying about that?”

“It’s terrifying because I think I’m a pretty tough person, but I had no idea how… unprotected you would make me feel. That probably doesn’t even make sense.”

“No, it does.” Wrapping my arms around his torso, I thought about what Bridget said, how you make yourself vulnerable when you love someone, and I knew that’s what he meant. “But you don’t have to worry. I feel the same. I thought I was going to die of fright on the way over here.”

“Why?”

“I had no idea what to expect, after last night. All I knew was that I had to see you and tell you how I felt. Then it would be up to you.” I paused. “But I did have a few fun things in mind to persuade you if you gave me any trouble.”

Joey laughed. “I was too easy, then.”

“I got to do one of them anyway.”

He groaned with pleasure at the memory. “That’s true, you did. And next it’s my turn.” His tongue flicked at my earlobe before he took it in his mouth, sucking gently. “But I need more light,” he said, kissing down my neck as I arched back slightly. He moved a hand to the other side of my throat and held me against his mouth as he whispered hot words against my skin. “I want to see your body while I worship every inch of it with my tongue. I want to look in your eyes when I get inside you. I want to watch you lose control, over and over again…” He circled the flat of his tongue on my neck before closing his mouth over it and sucking hard.

I think I whimpered.

With a low laugh, he released me. “So now, I’m going to button my pants and we’ll go back upstairs, suffer through what is sure to be the longest fucking Sunday dinner in the history of men, and then I will spend the rest of the night—and hopefully a hell of a lot more nights in the future—doing and saying things to you I’ve only fantasized about.”

My belly flipped. “Should I be scared?”

He helped me to my feet and leaned in close. “Terrified,” he whispered.

Oh. My. God.

How the hell was I supposed to get through dinner?

#

Giggling like schoolchildren, we raced out of the pantry, avoided meeting anyone’s eyes in the kitchen and scurried back up to the apartment. Joanna eyed us suspiciously when we entered.

“I thought you said you were just going to the pantry, Joey Lupo. What did you need there again?” She transferred a huge plate of what looked like meatballs coated with breadcrumbs from the table to a counter near the stove, tossing him a knowing look over her shoulder.

“Uh…” At the sink washing his hands, Joey looked over his shoulder and met my eyes. I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “I forgot,” he said.

“What? What on earth has gotten into you two?” Joanna looked back and forth between us, scrutinized my neck for a moment, and shook her head. ?

?Forget it. I don’t want to know.” She took the apron she was wearing and threw it at Joey. “Finish these up, the oil is hot. I always overcook them. And Tiny, why don’t you help me set the table?”

“I’d be glad to.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Joanna must have thought we were crazy. “Just let me wash my hands.”

In the bathroom, I noticed Joey had sucked my neck so hard a bruise had formed. I slapped a hand on it and laughed silently as I looked at my rosy cheeks in the mirror. After trying unsuccessfully to arrange my collar to cover the red and purple spot, I gave up and went back to the kitchen. When Joanna’s back was turned, I flashed Joey my neck and he burst out laughing. I slapped his shoulder and Joanna turned to us, rolling her eyes. “Honestly. We have company for dinner. Pull yourselves together!”

But pulling myself together was out of the question. Just watching Joey prepare Sunday dinner for his family was enough to make my legs quiver and my insides clench. Whenever he turned around and I got a glimpse of his gorgeous face, flushed with heat from the stove or maybe from what we’d done—I nearly swooned.

Had I never noticed the way he moved? Joey didn’t have Enzo’s height or lithe grace, but his muscular body brimmed with caged aggression, more feral than feline. Even doing mundane things like bending for something low in a cupboard or reaching high on a shelf, or moving from the stove to the icebox to the table, his physicality spoke volumes about the way he’d move when unrestrained by clothing or convention.

I lost track of how many times I licked my lips and crossed my legs, tight.

Somehow we made it though dinner, although I was fairly certain we weren’t fooling anybody. We sat next to each other, and neither of us did a very good job of paying attention to conversation. When we weren’t sneaking glances at each other or sharing secret smiles, we were just staring at our plates, grinning like idiots, and several times I caught both of us eyeing the clock, willing its hands to move faster so this dinner would end and we could be alone. I don’t think I ate more than three bites, although the food was delicious.