Mother nature or mother ocean had proven she could overpower me. I wanted to scream at Morina that I would be staying in the water all night.
But I would follow the woman in her tiny bikini anywhere she wanted me to go. I drove us back home and didn’t even consider the fact we had our wet asses on the leather seats of my Rolls Royce.
My mind had shifted into unknown territory in that water, watching her today.
Morina truly could have been a mermaid in another life. And the way she jumped out of the water like a freaking goddess who walked on the stuff. The surfboard didn’t just carry her, it floated with her, and her muscles didn’t even look like they were straining.
She’d ridden the wave to the end, then turned and waved to me like it was the easiest feat in the world.
I had to give her credit–she’d told me it would be difficult to learn and that the ocean was dangerous. I could have blamed the board or the waves or anything but I knew the truth. This was something I wasn’t good at.
There weren’t many of those things in the world.
I could coerce most men into doing as I told them. I learned from the very best in each industry I got involved with, and when I couldn’t get something done, well, my family knew how to force it.
“You’re quiet.” Morina twisted her wet hair around her hand, tying in a knot. “Are you mad?”
“I’m frustrated.” No sooner had I spoken than I wanted to snatch back my words. Still, they hung in the car as I drove through her small town and into the big city.
She nodded but didn’t push. She seemed to know when to pick her battles and this wasn’t one she wanted to fight.
We silently existed with one another for the rest of the car ride and as we retired to our separate bedrooms to clean up.
Cade called with an update on the day. His rambling about different issues within our businesses realigned my priorities. I commanded attention here. I was able to fix those problems with ease.
It was a good reminder. Our worlds didn’t mix outside of the small one we had created for the time being and that was fine.
I hung up and weight lifted from my chest. While she tinkered in her bedroom, I grabbed some flour, eggs, oil, and a dash of salt. She’d tried to teach me to surf, so I’d return the favor and cook for her.
My mother would have been proud. I told myself I was just hungry though. This was an easy solution and a nice gesture, considering we needed to be on great terms with the upcoming gala.
She peeked around the corner in another baggy t-shirt that I swore she wore to drive me insane. I wanted to know if there were shorts underneath or if she just wore panties that would be easy to slip aside.
The friend zone we hovered in was becoming my least favorite place.
“You okay with pasta tonight?”
“Are you making it by hand?” She rounded the corner and beelined for me. I felt the heat of her instantly and guessed she didn’t have a bra on from the way her body moved on its way over.
“I think it’s the best way to make it, don’t you?”
“This might not be a good idea.” She shook her head but still stared at my hands kneading the dough.
“Why not?” I asked as I tried not to smell her wet hair. Since the woman had moved in, I’d been acutely aware of her scents everywhere. From the incense to her shampoo, I was overstimulated and stressed. The supposedly calming aromas had the opposite effect on me. Every time I smelled her damn hair, I wanted to wrap it around my hand and tell her to get on her knees.
“I think I’ll fall in love with you if you keep cooking for me, Bastian. That, or I won’t be able to get on a surfboard. I’ll literally burst at the seams and I can’t go to a gala looking ten pounds heavier than I already am.”
She said it with such honesty, I wondered if she believed that.
“We’re going in a couple days, Mo. You won’t gain too much by then. Even so, I’d love you on my arm either way.”
She smirked up at me, those blue doe eyes filled with disbelief and condescension. “You’d be fine taking what your colleagues would surely classify as a big girl to an event and then proposing to her?”
Maybe it was her blatant skepticism or the way she genuinely thought I’d have a problem with it that had me turning to the fridge and pulling out one of the cannoli the chef had made.
I held the dessert out in front of me. “Open wide, love.”
Her eyes narrowed and my dick jumped when she whispered, her voice suddenly husky, “I know that phrase.”
“I wasn’t joking the first time I said it, and I’m not joking now.”
She licked her lips and opened.
I slid my hand into her hair and slowly placed the cannoli onto her tongue. “Bite, ragazza.”
She did and, of course, whether she wanted to or not, she moaned and closed her eyes. I gave myself a second to listen to her before I brushed a piece of frosting from her lips. She stared at me sucking it off my thumb.
“You can eat anything you want,” I told her. I meant it, too.
She nodded in the same trance that had taken me over.
If I kissed her, would she indulge?
I knew the answer and knew we also needed to find a boundary. At this rate, we wouldn’t make it to the gala.
I returned my attention to the dough.
She glanced at the plants and before I knew it, she’d grabbed a cup and started pouring water carefully in each one but only after feeling the soil.
“You’re learning.” I nodded, then grabbed a sharp knife and sliced thin strips for the noodles.
“Only because I had a great teacher.” She walked into the living room, turned on her salt lamp and sighed. “Much better.”
I hid my smile.
She still caught me. “You can question it all you want, but don’t you feel better when it’s on?”
“If I do, it’s only because you’re in a better mood when it’s on.”
She rolled her eyes and folded up her sleeves as she came back to my side.
“What can I help with?”
“If you want to put some water on to boil, that’ll help. I’ll start browning the meat for the ragù. We have some sauce in the fridge.”
“Is it homemade?”
“The chef made it, but it’s my mother’s recipe. Does that count?”
“I’ll take it.” Her hip bumped mine, and she smiled.
We worked in harmony in that kitchen, like we were somehow made to be in it together. When we sat down to eat, I glanced at her. “If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended.”
She glared. “I’ll be offended if I don’t like this. You’re crazy.”
With that, she dug in.
I waited for her moan but it was complete silence as she chewed with her eyes closed.
Maybe I’d lost my touch.
Then her head hit the table. “No. I can’t stand it. I’m dead.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you now. I can’t believe I get this cooking for six months. Oh my God.”
She didn’t even glance up as she moaned a long list of different deities.
Fuck, I needed an outlet. The woman’s voice was sex on a stick to begin with, and now I needed reminding of just how good she sounded with her mouth around my dick.
“Morina, don’t be ridiculous,” I ground out. “Eat your food.”
She turned her head on the table and opened one eye. “I’m not being ridiculous, Bastian. How can you eat anything but this all day long?”
“I like variety.” I knew my cooking was as good as my mother’s. She would spend hours in the kitchen and had recipes from Italy that no one else would be able to match. We put love into our food and that took pride, patience, and a learned touch.
“What will I do when our six months is up?”
The pain in her voice and how she completely embraced the fact she’d be sad when we left one another had me agreeing to something I never thought I would. “I can teach you, love.”
She sat up. “Seriously?”
“Sure.” I pointed a fork at her. “You can teach me to make a smoothie too, huh?”
That smile shot across her face and straight into my chest. I didn’t like the way I was starting to care for her or the way she smiled at me like I could do her no harm.
Our worlds were different. And you didn’t mix a man born in filth with a mermaid, not tainted yet by the pollution of my cities.
