The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

He wasn't wrong about that. I had started organizing his medicine cabinet and rearranging his shoes by how worn they were. You could say I was a whole new level of bored.

"Go where?" I asked, already going through my new wardrobe in my head, wondering what piece I wanted to wear first.

"Anywhere. Nowhere. Food. A drive. Whatever you want."

"Food and then a drive to somewhere to eat said food sounds pretty good," I suggested.

"Alright. Let's go then," he invited, holding an arm out.

"I can't go like this," I told him, waving a hand down at his white shirt I was wearing yet again. I was pretty sure he bought a whole bunch of new ones the other day simply because I was wearing them all the time.

"I see nothing wrong with what you have on," he told me, smile devilish.

"I have no panties on," I told him.

"Still not seeing the problem, sweetheart."

"Except when we maybe need to sit down on a blanket to eat and I have to sit cross-legged and other men might—"

"Panties. Pants. A matronly mumu," he demanded, making me laugh as I moved down the hall.

I tried not to do that thing. You know, the girl thing where we take five hours to get ready.

That said, this was officially the first time I could really put myself together, look nice for him. It seemed pointless to do so when I was sitting around in the house all day. I lived in fear of makeup getting on his very light couches.

So I let myself go ahead and be a little girly, knowing Luca didn't mind waiting a few extra minutes while I fixed my hair, put on some of the makeup I'd had Tina pick up for me since it was not something I could ask Luca to pick up—a man who likely didn't know the difference between blush and eyeshadow.

In the end, my lashes were darker, my eyes lined, a bright red lip was painted on to match the red flowy slacks Luca had brought me, that likely cost more than my entire wardrobe back home. I paired them with a silk tank top that made it impossible to wear a bra. Finally, I slipped into the strappy white sandals he'd picked up once he learned my size. I even spritzed on the perfume he'd picked out since he claimed it smelled amazing. And I liked the idea of him getting close to sniff my neck, between my breasts.

Finished, I made my way out into the kitchen to find Luca leaning casually against the counter, texting on his phone.

He paused when he heard me coming, head swiveling in my direction.

"Fuck me," he groaned, shaking his head as his eyes took me in. "You're beautiful," he added, tucking his phone away without finishing his text, making his way toward me, placing his hands on my hips. "I don't want to ruin your lipstick."

"It's kiss-proof," I told him, angling my head up.

And then he showed me his appreciation for the extra couple of minutes of preparation.

Then, well, we got a little carried away.

His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me away, turning me, pushing me against the island, reaching forward to undo my button and zipper, yanking down my pants and panties, his fingers sliding up my cleft to work my clit until I was soaked and aching for him.

He protected us then slammed inside me so hard my hips rammed against the edge of the counter, mixing pain with the pleasure of him inside me—hard, demanding, driving me up fast, pushing me over faster, leaving me panting and laid over the island, trying to pull myself back together again.

Luca recovered first, moving downward, sinking his teeth into my ass cheek as he grabbed my panties and pants, pulling them back into place, re-fastening them.

"Come on," he demanded, reaching to pull me straight again. "I know you're hungry after that," he added. And he was right; I was ravenous.

We got subs because they traveled best, and drove down the shore, windows down, salt air filling the car, Luca's free hand reaching for mine, even pulling it up to his lips to kiss at a red light.

We sat in the car to eat, not wanting to deal with the crowds at the beach, listening to music, talking, just being perfectly happy in each other's company.

Every single second of it was absolutely freaking... perfect.

Until we got the call.

We thought nothing of it at first. Luca got calls almost nonstop. Especially on days when he left work earlier than usual. Someone always had a quick question for him.