Page 64 of In Ruins
“I’m doing well,” I tell him, attempting a small smile. He looks at me with a little frown on his face, and I wipe the smile off mine. Sigh. I know I’m going to have some kind of battle where he’s concerned. I just need to figure out whether it’s going to be worth it.
The elevator stops a moment later, and he motions for me to walk out ahead of him. He then walks us over to the door, scans his hand on one of those palm scanners, and the door opens. There are only two doors up here, and I wonder where the other one leads.
He gestures for me to walk ahead of him again, and I step through the door and into his home. I walk down the short hallway that opens into his gorgeous living room. The view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling glass, straight ahead of me, is breathtaking. The décor downstairs is dark and masculine, and it definitely suits him.
To the left of the living room are the steps to the upstairs. There’s a long wall that’s in front of the landing when you go up, and there’s a huge television mounted on it. The bottom part of the wall doubles as the fireplace. There are two sets of couches. One set faces the television, while the other is just next to it, a little to the right, facing the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Further right, just past the second set of couches, is another short hallway, and I can see the kitchen. Everything in here looks expensive as hell, but there is also a homey feel to the place. I can’t explain it, but it feels like for the first time in my life, I’m home.
There’s a clock on one of the walls, and I see it’s four a.m. The view of all the city lights at this time is to die for. From the look of the view, I know that we’re back home, in Chicago.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, feeling the panic start to set in. We’re so close to home. Oh my God! If my father finds me here, especially with Enzo, I shudder to think what he’d do to me.
“Relax! He’s not going to find you here. I’m going to keep you safe until the baby is born,” he tells me, and I furrow my brow. What the hell does that mean?
“And after that?” I ask, but he ignores the question.I don’t know whether I would have been better off staying at the convent.
“Come on. Let’s go up. It’s time to get some sleep.”
He walks away, and I have no other choice but to follow him. I suddenly feel bone tired, as though all the energy has been zapped out of me. We head up the stairs, and I walk behind him as he makes his way down the hallway. He stops at the door at the end, opens it, and walks through. When I make it inside the room behind him, I notice that it’s the master bedroom.
“Um, am I sleeping in here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to be sleeping in here too?”
“Where else would I be sleeping, babe?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.
“I just thought… never mind,” I mutter.
The room is huge. The king-size bed is in the middle of the room to the left, while a chair is set next to it, facing more floor-to-ceiling glass. This room’s color scheme is also dark, and it's really beautiful.
“Are you ready for bed?” he asks. “You look a little tired. I know we have a lot to discuss, but we can do all of that tomorrow.”
“Okay. Um, could I take a shower first?”
“Sure,” he says, pointing to the door I’m assuming leads to the bathroom. I quickly scurry away from him because I’m sort of flustered right now. As soon as I step inside, I quickly close the door behind me and take in a deep breath, letting it out a second later.
Turning around, I take in the space before me. The bathroom is big, not to mention gorgeous. So far, this whole place is like it’s from the pages of a magazine. There’s a door to the left of me, and when I open it to peek inside, it’s a small closet filled with neatly folded towels, stacked along with a wide variety of toiletries. On closer inspection, I see some are my favorites. Huh?
Just past the closet is the sink and counter space, with a huge mirror on the wall. To the right is a huge bathtub that looks very inviting. All I want to do is get in, but I definitely have to wait until I’m not pregnant anymore.
There’s a little alcove where the toilet is, and then the shower takes up the rest of the space at the back. I take out a towel and a bottle of body wash, quickly strip, and then head into the shower.
I turn it on, stand under the hot spray, add a bit of body wash to the loofah, and gently lather my skin. I’m just about to try to bend down to get my legs—trust me, that has been quite difficult to do when you’ve got a beach ball in front of you—when I hear the shower door open behind me.
I let out a squeak as I turn around. Damn! He’s like a ninja because I didn’t hear him come into the bathroom.
“Let me,” he says, huskily. My knees instantly weaken. Gah! I still go crazy for the deep and sexy timbre of his voice. We’re just standing there, staring at one another.
He’s naked, and fuck if drool isn’t pooling at the corner of my mouth. My eyes take him in from head to toe. God! Those tattoos that he’s covered in always get me wet in an instant. I squeeze my legs together, wanting to get rid of the ache that’s suddenly building there, but that obviously does nothing.
My eyes make their way to his face again, and I’m not surprised to see that stupid sexy grin plastered on his lips. He finally steps into the shower and takes the loofah out of my hands before he gets down to his knees in front of me, running it up and down my legs.
His movement is unhurried and deliberate as he soaps me up, while also caressing my skin with his fingers. I’m convinced he’s going slow just to torture me. I’m literally about to combust. A frustrated groan escapes me, and I really want to stomp my feet and throw a tantrum. He must know I’m at the end of my rope because he finally stands to his feet, a devious smile on his face.
He gently pushes me back under the spray to wash the suds away. When I’m clean, he moves me to sit on the bench, making sure I’m sitting almost on the edge of it before spreading my legs and getting down to his knees between them.
