My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,90
one who notices.
But somehow, though there is a roomful of gorgeous women all clad in fancy dresses and shiny baubles giving him appraising looks and I’m hidden away to blend in, his eyes find me easily.
His smile is everything and over too fast when he turns to face Claire and Cole to explain the first course.
Each course is the same—some new visual spectacle, servers, and then Lorenzo. I live for the moment he walks through those doors and his eyes find mine, promising heat and more.
After dessert, the party really gets started and the DJ plays tunes designed to get everyone on the dance floor. The Cupid Shuffle might be old and cheesy, but everyone from the twenty-somethings to Grandma and Grandpa can step to the left and right when they’re told to. And I’ve never seen old folks get down as when Cole’s parents break it down to Let Me Clear My Throat.
As Claire and Cole enjoy the night before their wedding, partying and doing it up big with their families, I feel a presence looming beside me. I turn to see Lorenzo, his chef jacket now absent, but he’s still dressed in head to toe black, including his mask.
“Mia rosa,” he murmurs. “I thought about you all day, worried you wouldn’t get everything completed, but it all looks beautiful. Not as lovely as you, of course,” he says with a heated smirk. Even with the mask, I can see his eyes trace down my body.
To be fair, I’m not dressed for seduction. Slim black pants, a black blouse, and black flats aren’t exactly a sexy, flirty look. But his gaze sees right through the plain clothes, almost like he can see my bare skin beneath.
I smile that even with everything he had going on, he thought of me. I confide, “I kept asking Janey if she thought you were okay. I even offered to run to the kitchen to get us some food just so I could check on you.” I shake my head sadly, chuckling at the memory. “She told me no and shoved a protein bar in my hand. Told me to eat that if I was hungry.”
Lorenzo’s laugh is warm, washing over me. It’s only been hours since I’ve been with him, but I’ve missed him. I want to know everything about his day, how the kitchen was when he showed up, if he feels proud of his work, but first . . . I need to know what he tastes like again.
As though he can read the turn of my thoughts, his eyes go dark, nearly the color of the mask that surrounds them. Suddenly, the mask that had seemed itchy and weird feels naughty and the anonymity freeing.
“Come with me, Abigail.” An order, but a request all the same. If I brush him off and claim that disappearing in the middle of an event is unprofessional, he’ll agree and wait for later. But I don’t want to wait.
I scan the room out of habit, noting that everything looks impeccable. The arrangements are holding their shapes, the tablescapes are lovely even after the dishes have been cleared, and everyone is having a great time.
I nod and let Lorenzo lead me out of the main ballroom with a guiding hand on my lower back. He draws me to a dark corner, pulling the glittery tulle back and gesturing for me to go ahead. What I find is a doorway hidden in shadows by the lighting and fabric overlay.
“We’ll have to be quick and quiet,” I whisper, knowing he can’t see me because I can’t see him.
He uses my voice to find me in the dark, his lips landing on mine with precise aim. Our bodies mold together, our hands touching and exploring in the dark.
And I’m struck by the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had. I take charge, pushing him back against the wall. “Abigail?” He chuckles in surprise.
But I’m about to surprise him a hell of a lot more.
I let my hands trace his chest, my nails scraping at the ridges of his abs through his shirt until I find his belt. Undoing it and then his pants, I free his cock.
He moans as I take him in hand, giving his hard length a few strokes. And then I drop to my knees in front of him. I let my hands guide his length to my mouth and lay a few sweet kisses to his crown.