“I doubt it,” Matteo said. “We’ll have a nice barbecue and jump in the pool, and listen to exciting diaper stories.”
“I’m so glad we don’t have kids.”
Matteo kissed my throat, then down to my shoulder. “Hmmm. Then we couldn’t have sex in the open bathroom now.”
“We’re having sex now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I thought we wanted to party the night away.”
“Oh, we will,” he growled in my ear as his hand snuck into my panties. “But first this.”Two hours later I was dressed in tight black jeans and a sparkling crop top with the words “Sparkly Bitch” across the chest. I put on black boots because no one could really dance with high heels. Checking my eyeliner once more, I walked out of the bedroom and down the staircase into the living area. Luca and Aria had bought a spectacular townhouse with a small yard in the Upper East Side shortly after Amo’s birth and had given us their penthouse. Matteo was already waiting, leaning against the kitchen island of our apartment, scrolling through messages on his phone. He was also dressed in all black and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing those muscled arms that had held me up less than an hour ago when he’d fucked me against the wall. His dark hair was short but it still took him longer than me to get it in shape with wax.
He looked up and his eyes slowly slid over my body. “Hot as hell,” he said with a grin. “Sparkly bitch? I thought you didn’t like to be called bitch.”
“I don’t like to be called bitch by others, especially you when we fight,” I said.
Matteo stalked toward me and gripped my hips. “But Gianna, sometimes you are a real b—”
I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it.”
His brown eyes crinkled in amusement. I lowered my hand. “Beast,” he finished.
I hit his chest. “And you’re a cocky bastard.”
He didn’t deny it.
“How about we have drinks in the Tipsy Cow first?”
“Deal,” I said. “How can I resist a good cocktail?”
Hand in hand, we walked into the elevator and leaned against the mirror as it traveled down. Matteo regarded me. “You get more gorgeous the longer we’re together,” he said.
“That’s because your eyesight gets worse.” I was turning thirty-one this month and had found the first gray hair a few weeks ago. I’d plucked it at once but it had given me a small crisis. Matteo, the bastard, still had thick, dark hair, and even if he got gray hair at some point, I just knew it would make him look hot.
Matteo squeezed my hip. “I have perfect sight, trust me. You are sex on legs, Gianna.”
I took my burgundy lipstick out and put it to my lips, trying to hide my pleased smile.Matteo waved at the bartender when we entered the crowded bar. We tried to have a cocktail night once a week and most of the time we came to the Tipsy Cow. Its bare brownstone walls, cowhide booths, and their amazing list of cocktails was right up our alley.
We slipped into our usual spot, sitting beside each other, thigh to thigh, in the booth. Matteo threw an arm around my shoulder and leaned in. “See, the first poor sucker thinks he can eye-fuck you.”
I followed his gaze toward a guy sitting in another booth with a woman and still leering at me. I gave him the most disgusted expression I was capable of.
“I love your resting bitch face,” Matteo said, then grabbed my face and gave me a deep kiss.
When we pulled apart, the menus rested on our table. I gave Matteo a look, embarrassed that the server had to witness our PDA.
“How about a little adventure?” Matteo asked as he picked up the menu.
I narrowed my eyes. I’d learned to be wary when it came to Matteo’s definition of adventure. “That depends.”
“We choose each other’s cocktails.”
“That’s tame for you,” I said, surprised, but actually liking the idea.
I perused the list of cocktails, trying to decide what I’d order for Matteo. Even though we’d been here countless times, there were many cocktails that Matteo had never tried, mainly the sweet and creamy variety. His usual choice was an old-fashioned. At first, I considered choosing something sickly sweet and girly to tease him but then I decided it would be more fun to try and find a cocktail he never tried because he thought it wasn’t what he liked. Smiling, I chose the Chilled Irishman.
Matteo raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. I could tell that he thought I was trying to find the cocktail he liked least.
Eventually he chose a concoction with mint schnapps and white chocolate, definitely not my usual choice.
I settled in his arms as we waited for our order. “Sometimes I’m shocked by how long we’ve been together.”