I closed my eyes and did my best to push my rising worry out of my head. “Yes. I was just thinking about the lack of a condom.”
“Yeah?” He pulled me into him so that my head lay on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, wondering what was on his mind.
“I’m sorry for not using one,” he whispered.
“I think we both made that mistake.”
“Still, I should be more careful. I know you have plans. You have a future.”
“You too,” I whispered.
“No. My future is yours. A pregnancy wouldn’t get in my way. It would—”
“What?”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
I opened my eyes and stared at him. “Tell me.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a father. I just never really put any thought to when that would happen.”
Words failed to come to me. I had no response. Everything was already happening too fast.
“I’m just saying...” He paused as if trying to figure out a better statement. The weight of Gio’s arm lay heavy on my shoulder, making me feel safe and protected. “What I’m trying to say, princess, is that...in truth, pregnancy wouldn’t be a bad thing for me. I would take care of everything.”
“Take care? What would be taking care of it for you?”
“The usual, princess.”
I looked up at him.
“You would need a ring, of course.”
“Oh,” I murmured in shock.
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“An abortion.”
He frowned. “No. I mean...that’s your decision, but I wouldn’t want it. Let’s leave this topic alone. This is too heavy. I just want you to know, if something does happen from tonight, I’ve got you.”
“Okay.” I nestled drowsily against his body.
He cradled me, his legs entwined with mine. “But...I can see marriage between us.”
I had nothing to say, too scared that I would wake up and realize this all was a dream.
“I could see so much with you,” he whispered and ran his fingers through my sex-messed curls.
“I could see so much with you too, Gio.”
And then I drifted off to sleep, inhaling his scent and the fragrance of our sex.
Chapter 18
Giovanni
A painter
paints pictures on canvas.
But musicians
paint their pictures on silence.
~Leopold Stokowski
The next morning, I held Simone. Watched her wake up. Drowned in those beautiful eyes. I’d been up for a while but didn’t want to leave the bed or her warmth. It was funny that way, how I’d suddenly become dependent on seeing those opened eyes staring back at me.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
“Good morning, indeed.”
She kissed me and right before I dove my tongue to touch hers, she moved away.
“I’ll be right back.”
I growled in protest.
She tiptoed to the bathroom. “What?”
“I love being buried in your warmth. I planned on staying like that forever.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“You’ve abandoned me!”
She giggled. “I’ll be right back, crazy person.”
“I will never sing or love again.”
“No, don’t say that. The GioKnights will crucify me!”
“And yet, the course of true love never did run smooth.”
She peeked her head out. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream, right?”
“Damn. You have a good ear. That’s right. Shakespeare.”
She wasn’t gone for long. When she returned, her breath smelled minty fresh. She leaped on the bed and dove back under the covers with me. “That’s my favorite play by Shakespeare.”
“Mine too.” I winked at her. “You see. We’re supposed to be together.”
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”
“That’s my second favorite quote from that play.”
She lay back next to me and leaned against my chest, letting me hold her. “The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact.”
“Good one, but I never truly understood that line.”
“Theseus was saying that whether a lunatic, lover, or poet, it’s the imagination that will control his perception. So, if someone thinks they’re in love, regardless of whether it’s true or not, he will believe it and act accordingly.”
“So, you’re talented, beautiful, and fucking smart?”
“At least, that’s what your imagination is telling you.”
“I wonder. Have you made me the lunatic, lover, or poet?”
“Maybe, we’ve both become all three.”
“So, you’re saying I’m a lunatic?”
She tapped my chest and chuckled.
I gave her a wicked smile. “And now you’re laughing at me?”
“I can’t help it. You’re so fucking gorgeous, it’s hard to take you seriously.” She stretched. “When are we heading back?”
I thought about Ru taking her away from me yesterday. “No time soon.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not ready to share you.” I shrugged, leaned over to the side, and grabbed the room’s phone. “But don’t worry, I’m working on that new characteristic of me.”
I’d never been the possessive type, but after Simone, things had changed inside of me.
I’m definitely the lunatic in love.
I touched the LED touch screen wall panel by the bed that connected guests to all the hotel services and amenities.
A woman’s voice filled the room. “Hello?”
I leaned back in the bed. “We would love breakfast.”
Simone looked up at the ceiling, probably searching for the speakers and microphone.