Page 150 of Played
"Oh?"
"His name's Marcus. He's really sweet."
I smile. "That's great, Claudia."
She looks down at Amadeus again, scratching behind his ears. "Thanks for lunch, Liza. And for… you know. Everything."
My throat tightens. "Anytime."
The lemon chicken turned out better than I expected—crispy skin, tender meat, just the right amount of garlic. Jenna's recipe didn't fail me.
Julian raises his wine glass. "To you. Best chef in Cumberland."
"Liar. But I'll take it."
We clink glasses, the sound delicate and perfect. Candles flicker between us, casting shadows across his beautiful face. The place smells like rosemary and butter and something undeniablyus.
"So," I lean back, smug. "About that bet."
Julian groans. "Don't."
"The Sopranos.Six seasons. Not seven. I was right."
"You Googled it?”
“Yep.” I grin. "Fifteen-minute back massage. No wiggling out of it."
"I'm a man of my word."
An hour later, I'm face-down on the bed in just my underwear, the cool sheets soft against my skin. Julian's hands press into my shoulders, thumbs working small circles along my spine.
Amadeus is lazily stretched out on the floor beside the bed. His eyes are half-closed, that blissful look dogs get when they're in their favorite spot. He's been watching us the whole evening, from dinner prep to now, keeping his silent vigil. He's always around us like this, a quiet presence that makes the place feel even more like home.
"Oh my God," I moan. "Where'd you learn this?"
"YouTube."
I laugh into the pillow. "Seriously?"
"Dead serious."
His hands slide lower, palms warm and firm, finding every knot. I melt into the mattress.
"Don't get too fresh now," I warn, though I wouldn't really mind.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He works his way down, professional and thorough, and I'm in heaven. But then—
He pulls away.
"Hey." I lift my head. "It hasn't been fifteen minutes."
"Pretty sure it has."
"Julian, I swear—"
Something lands on my back. Light. Small.
