Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
“I should warn you… if you do that to me you will never be the same. I will ruin you for all other women.”
“Undoubtedly.” He laughs, and I smile up at the ceiling.
He licks me again, this time deeper and with the flat of his thick tongue. My toes curl. My hands cling to his muscular shoulders.
Wow.
I fucking love Rome.
An hour later, I lean up against the tiles in the shower as Rico rubs his soapy hands all over as he washes me. I’m sleepy, sated, and damn if I haven’t just had the best night of my life. He takes care of me and washes my legs, my sex, my behind, and then moves around behind me to wash my back.
I smile dreamily with my eyes closed. “Can you move to Australia and become my slave?”
He moves my hair to one side and kisses my neck tenderly. “Now, there’s an idea.”
His soapy hands roam over my breasts and stomach. He has explored every inch of my body, as if memorizing it. “What are your plans?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“When do you leave?”
“Monday morning. I’m meeting my friend Natalie in Sorrento and we’re travelling through the Amalfi Coast for two weeks. After that, I come back to Rome for a few days before flying home.”
“You know… one night really isn’t enough to get the full Roman experience.”
I smile. “Oh really?”
His lips slide to my neck again. “You should probably come back to my house for the weekend.”
I bite my lip to hide my smile. “And why would I do that?”
“To clean my bathroom.”
I burst out laughing and spin back to him. Suddenly, we fall serious. “You want me to stay with you?” He nods, and I run my fingers through his two-day stubble.
“I should warn you,” I begin.
“I know. If you clean my bathroom I will be ruined for other women.”
I laugh out loud. I wasn’t going to say that at all. “Precisely.”
3
Olivia
I stare at the exotic building in front of us. It has cream-colored rendering with a beautiful terracotta tiled roof.
“You live here?” I frown.
“Uh-huh,” Rico says as he pays the driver. They begin to speak to each other in Italian.
We had to catch an Uber here to bring my suitcase. We’ll pick up his motorbike later.
He takes my hand and helps me out of the car.
“Grazie,” he calls.
The building is swanky with a big garden and a circular driveway. I look around in shock. This is not where I would have expected him to live at all.
He leads me through the fancy metal gates and up toward the huge double doors. “Who do you live here with?” I ask.
“By myself.”
“So, this is an apartment?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
We arrive at a set of huge, black double doors. The round, brass door knocker is about the size of my head.
“In Italy, we call it a penthouse.” He pushes the door open and a large, sweeping staircase comes into view. There’s an elevator to the side of the foyer. “I live on the second floor.”
I stare at him, confused. “So, other people live here, too?”
“No, the other two apartments are empty.” He leads me into the elevator by the hand. “My grandfather owns this building. The other penthouses are for when he and my father are in town.”
I look around at the marble floors and smoke-mirrored walls. Jeez, he must come from money. “They don’t live here in Rome?” I ask.
“They live on country estates.”
“Together?” I ask as we walk up the stairs.
“No, they have separate properties that they live in with their wives, my mother, and my grandmother.”
“That’s nice.” I smile as we continue up the steps. “Your family are all still together?”
He turns, surprised by my statement. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, your parents and grandparents are all still married?”
“Of course,” he scoffs. “Ferrara’s marry for life. Family is everything to us.”
I shake my head, embarrassed that I just sounded so blasé about divorce. My parents divorced when I was a small child, and both have since divorced again. That’s my normality. We get to the first floor and he takes his keys out. “My parents are divorced,” I announce.
He frowns as he stares at me. “And you think this is a good thing?”
“No, but it is what it is.” I shrug. “I can’t change it.”
He raises his eyebrows as he stares at me and I have no idea what he’s thinking. He opens the door and my eyes widen at what I see. Holy shit.
“Are you serious?” I whisper as my eyes fly around the space.
This isn’t money. This is over the fucking top luxury. It’s like a palace, only way better. Above us are gilded gold and hand painted ceilings. The floors are covered in huge Persian rugs, contrasting with gorgeous, dark wood antique furniture. The colors are rich and exotic—almost historical.