He dodged her attempt and unbuckled her belt to pull her on his lap. He felt good. Too good. “You weren’t complaining last night.”
No, she hadn’t. Not even when Marc, after staying true to his word of not sliding home, had turned the knob and then nonchalantly pushed open the pantry door. It seemed when he dropped by to talk with Tanner, the contractor had been installing a new lock.
“Yeah, well, our grandmothers could be looking out the window.”
“Then we better steam ours up real fast.”
He dropped his lips to hers, but she shoved her hand in between their mouths. Undeterred, he moved to her neck instead.
“It’s not going to happen, Marc,” she said, tilting her head to the side so he could get behind her ear to that sweet spot he was so good at teasing. “So going on will only make it harder on both of us.”
Did she just moan or was that him?
“Tell me about it,” he mumbled against her neck. His hand, which was halfway up her dress, tightened, pulling her firmly against his erection.
“Tell me what you were apologizing for.”
With a sigh, Marc’s lips stopped. He gave her one final nip on the lobe and then pulled back. “I’m apologizing for my family.”
“Your family? What did they say?”
“Nothing yet. But they will. They’re Italian,” he said by way of explanation. Lexi struggled to hide her grin. She didn’t do a very good job, because he added, “Laugh now, but you’ll see. They’re loud and opinionated and can’t help but shove their noses in everyone else’s business.”
She gave his cheek a quick pat because he looked so serious. “I’ve met your family, Marc. Spent most of my high school years having sleepovers with Abby.”
“Yeah, well, this is different. You aren’t having a sleepover with Abby. You’re having one with me.”
If he hadn’t sounded so frustrated, she would have pointed out that they were just having dinner. The sleepover part, although definitely on the table, hadn’t been addressed. But then he ran a hand down his face and exhaled long and hard, and Lexi’s breath caught, and not in a good way.
Was he regretting his decision to bring her?
“Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s not a big deal.” Although her heart was telling her the complete opposite. “I can just go home and—”
He kissed her silent. His lips were strong and insistent and telling her he wasn’t going to stop until she agreed to let him finish. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him get in the last word.
“I want you,” he breathed when he finally pulled back. “In my bed. My truck. The pantry. The kitchen.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Especially wearing that apron of yours. Hell, I even wanted you at the damn dog park. I want you, Lexi. And I want you here, tonight, by my side at my nonna’s table. Got it?”
She nodded.
“But I’ve never brought a girl home.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.” She let that sink in. He was trying to tell her something, something important, but Lexi was too afraid to listen. “My brothers are going to say shit, try to be funny and embarrass me. It’s what we do.”
Having brothers didn’t seem all that fun. She remembered back in high school how the DeLuca boys had gotten into it with each other, laughing it off in the end. But she had always wondered if Marc, who was usually the focus, really found their games fun.
“I am afraid that they will embarrass you in the process. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
And just like that her heart went mushy. For Marc freaking DeLuca.
Afraid she’d do something stupid, like cry or blurt out that she might be falling for him, Lexi gave him a quick peck on the lips and opened his door. She hopped out and offered him her hand. When he took it, they walked up to the front door.
Like she had told Marc, she had been to this house a thousand times over the years, but it never failed to steal her breath. Built in the late nineteenth century, the stone-faced Italian villa, with its ornate corbel-supported eaves and low-pitched roof, stood two stories tall with cornice towers identifying the entry of the house. Surrounded by massive oak trees and vines, it also sat in the middle of one of the most elaborate gardens in the Napa Valley—ChiChi’s award-winning flower garden, to be exact.