me with a sense of unease, but that will pass.
Once I’ve put a little more time between me and the not guilty verdict, things will go back to normal.
Olivia, law school, this is all a great diversion, but it’s not my real life.
And I’m not her real life. This is a diversion for her, too, one she’ll get out of her system before she remembers that she’s a woman who does the right thing and works her arse off to get ahead.
This is uncharacteristic for both of us.
What the fuck was I thinking, interrogating her over her ex, turning it into a game? She’s far too sweet for that. Far too nice.
She stretches a little beneath my gaze and, fuck it, I reach down and curl a bit of blonde hair behind her ear. She makes a sleepy noise, her eyes blinking and lifting to me. Her smile is instinctive. It’s a smile just for me. My gut stretches and rolls in acknowledgement of this pull between us—of how I could get addicted to her smile, and all her sweetness.
‘Hi.’ Her voice is croaky. She blinks and yawns, covering it with the back of her hand. ‘Did I fall asleep?’
‘Yeah. About an hour ago.’
‘Sorry.’ She pushes up to half sit, reaching for the sheet as though she’s self-conscious. I shut my laptop and drop it to the carpet beside me then reach for her at the same time she scrambles onto my lap, straddling me, facing me.
‘Why sorry?’ I ask, my cock ever-ready for action when she’s near. She smiles as she feels me jerk against her.
She shrugs. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘You were worn out.’ I grin.
She returns it and nods. ‘Yep. And now I’m starving.’
‘Starving,’ I say, lifting her slightly and positioning her on my length. Her eyes widen and she moans at the invasion. But she rolls her hips and I fill her, and it is as though this is just how we have to be. Together. Joined. Coexisting.
I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve had my fair share of unforgettable sex. When I started to make good money and a name for myself, it was all too easy to hook up with women.
But I generally lose interest pretty fast.
Not Olivia.
I cannot get enough.
‘For food,’ she says on a laugh, but she’s already coming. God, she’s so responsive. Is it always like this for her? Her muscles squeeze me and it takes all my willpower not to come with her. I’m not wearing a condom—another thing that is different for me. I’ve never not practised safe sex. Never.
I push into her and she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders as she tilts her head back, her breasts pushed right in my face. I take one of her nipples in my mouth. It’s right there. It’d be criminal not to, right?
I’M LISTENING TO Professor Winterbourne’s Wednesday morning lecture and definitely not concentrating. How can I when my mind is filled with thoughts of Connor?
I’m also making cannelloni and my hands are covered in ricotta and garlic cream when my doorbell rings. And I know who it is the instant I hear the sound. I smile to myself, wiping my hands on my apron, and go through the kitchen and the lounge.
A cursory inspection through the safety glass shows Connor. Or Casual Connor, as I have taken to thinking of him in this guise. Wearing jeans and a collared shirt with sleeves pushed up his forearms to reveal tanned, leanly muscled flesh that makes my mouth go dry.
I slide the chain lock into place and open the door an inch, a mock-stern expression on my face. ‘Yes, sir?’
His grin undoes me. I bite down on my lower lip.
‘More studying?’ he teases, catching the strains of the lecture. I nod, smiling.
‘No rest for the wicked.’
He wiggles his brows. ‘And what are we cooking today, Miss Amorelli?’
‘We?’ I prompt, my heart skidding against my ribs.
‘Well, you. But I’ll watch. And help you lick the bowl.’ His wink is slow and so full of heat.
Still, I pretend not to be affected. I tilt my head to the side, eyeing him thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I’m having a perfectly nice evening with Professor Winterbourne...’
‘He’s no threat to me.’
I laugh at his arrogance, but push the door shut so I can unchain it and open it fully.
As soon as I do, he sweeps in and wraps me in his arms, his kiss taking over my senses, his mouth dominating me in a way that steals my breath.
He lifts away, his bright green eyes held fast to mine for a moment, and then he grins, walking towards the kitchen as though this is his place, not mine.
‘Ah. Cannelloni.’ He sits down on one of the stools at the kitchen bench; I love the sight of him there. I pause the lecture, knowing I’ll need to get back to it later. ‘My favourite.’
‘Oh, really?’ I arch my brows, my heart still thumping hard and fast from his kiss. I peel myself away from the wall with effort and attempt to look casual as I head back into the kitchen. ‘You don’t know cannelloni till you’ve tried my cannelloni.’
His nod is sage. ‘You talk a good game, Amorelli, but can you back it up?’
‘I intend to.’ I lift my piping bag and reach for another pasta tube, pressing the nozzle into its centre and squeezing. It is an act I have performed a thousand times, first with my nonna and then with my mother. Now, I could do it in my sleep. I fill at least four before he speaks again.
‘Your boyfriend—’ he says the words quietly, and I’m jolted out of my cooking meditation by the discordant phrase ‘—what happened?’
He’s back to Pietro. I don’t know if I’m annoyed or gratified. I suppose the latter, because there’s something about his interest that is significant in some way.
I can’t really explain it properly, it’s just how I feel. ‘We got together when I came back from travelling,’ I say after a beat. ‘I mean, I’d known him for ages, through my cousin, and I knew he had a thing for me. And I thought he was cute.’ I shrug, a little self-conscious. ‘Then I went away. And he was waiting when I got back.’
‘And you felt obliged,’ Connor surmises—correctly.
I wince. ‘It’s not a particularly good reason to go out with someone.’
‘No.’
‘I did like him. We just weren’t a good fit.’
He
