Instead of letting myself overthink, I let Antonio’s strokes pull me back into the intimacy between us. His mouth moves from my neck to my breasts, tasting and teasing my nipple. The groans and low growls coming out of him draw me closer to him and when Antonio runs his fingers through my hair, he brings his mouth back up to mine.
Our kisses are in sync with our bodies. Our heads move in unison with every roll, push, and pull of sexual desire. The minute we both finish allows relief, relaxation, and exhaustion to consume us. Sleep finds us soon after.
When the sun comes up the following morning, it doesn’t feel like a Monday. I have a shift to work later, but I’m wary about heading down to the pier. I’m apprehensive for a moment, but the scent of warm cinnamon and nutmeg makes me forget about the day ahead.
I peek over the railing of the bedroom loft to see the living room is spotless and the kitchen is clean. Antonio comes out of his office and looks like he’s been awake for hours. After a quick shower, I see it’s barely after seven and join him downstairs.
Antonio slides a cup of coffee across the island countertop and pulls out cinnamon rolls from the oven.
“Did you make these?” I ask him as he pulls a gooey one away from the rest in the pan.
“I’m good at a lot of things, but baking is not one of them.” He laughs. “I couldn’t sleep and after I finished cleaning up, I figured you would want breakfast. There’s a bakery in one of the hotel lobbies a few blocks from here.”
“Is there anything else you’re bad at?” I ask him between bites. “Not being able to bake isn’t a crime, but I’m just trying to figure out why you’re still single.”
“I only sleep in four-hour increments. My hours at the hospital used to be impossible and non-negotiable for me. I also hate fires and avoid construction sites.”
“Those don’t sound like deal breakers to me,” I tell him with a slight shrug of my shoulders.
“Dealing with me for a few days, it’s not. But imagine a year or two from now and I’m cleaning in the middle of the night, or rearranging furniture because I can’t sleep normal hours. What time do you have to be at work?” he asks.
If Antonio wants to change the subject, I have no problem with that. I imagine his irregular hours stem from his time in prison. I don’t want to force him into explaining things about himself he’s not ready to talk about.
“The cleaning I can deal with. You’ve met Damian,” I add with a giggle to lighten the mood.
“I tried to keep it quiet, but I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Antonio, I come from a house where my three older brothers would come and go at all hours of the night. When I got my own apartment, it was too quiet. I ended up trekking from the Upper West Side to Staten Island on a weekly basis just to hear Ma yell at Casper and Damian to stop tracking mud through the house.”
He chuckles. “Damian tracking mud?”
“Yeah, he was definitely busier back in New York; not much time to stress clean. So, that means if you want to take your living room apart and put it back together at two in the morning, I will not stop you. Hell, I might even join you.”
He moves around the counter and kisses me on the forehead. “Thank you. Maybe living with you, someone I can trust, will help me rest. It’s just hard with everything that’s going on and the nightmares that follow me.”
I sigh and cozy into him for a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist, we sit in silence for a moment. We both know what it feels like to not know what monsters are waiting for you on the other side of your front door. Still, my heart breaks for Antonio having to live with himself so alone and without anyone to assure him everything’s going to be okay.
He pulls away from me, tips his head down and kisses me gently. “Don’t worry about me, Gem. Come on, let me get you to work and you can take your mind off trying to fix me.”
“Why do you think I’m trying to fix you?” Curiosity gets the better of me with every question I ask in hopes of getting to know how his mind works.
“Because you’re just like your mom. I can feel the nurturer inside of you, especially after I told you I had no idea where my mother was. I know enough about myself to see what’s wrong, but it’s hard trying to break old habits.”
“Knowing is half the battle,” I tell him with a light rub to his back.
We decide to put a pin in working through his traumatic past to get me to work on time.
Antonio decides to park and walk with me to Booked and Boozy but seeing the scarred and shadowy figure from the other night is the last thing I expect. I stop walking, freezing in my tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Antonio asks.
I nudge my chin toward the guy leaning against the front door of the cafe. “That’s him. That’s the guy from the other night—”
Before I can explain further, Antonio’s on the move, storming toward him and punching him in the face.
Chapter 16: Antonio
Anger consumes every ounce of me as I land one blow after another to the asshole who stalked and scared Gemma the other night. She’s screaming behind me and a crowd gathers around us. I hate him for making her feel unsafe in her daily routine. It’s not fair she has to look over her shoulder walking to her job from her car.