Page 34 of Lily

They had this instantly odd, intimate relationship in which he took the liberty to hold her and stroke her skin as if they’d been lovers for years when, in reality, they weren’t lovers at all.

“I want all the rest of your days to be filled with joy.” He cupped her face and kissed her lips gently before releasing her all too quickly to return to his cooking.

She loved watching him. He was very attractive—tanned skin, light brown hair almost in need of a cut, and penetrating green eyes. She loved the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled.

What she really liked was feeling like she had permission to stare at him openly. She never would have met and held his gaze so brazenly before when working at Mr. Santo’s house. She would have been embarrassed and turned bright red if he’d caught her ogling him.

It was surprising she was able to do so now after being trained to keep her gaze down at all times for so many months. However, Stefano encouraged her to look at him, and he clearly enjoyed her gaze.

His back was to her, but he shook his butt. “How does my ass look in these jeans?” he asked teasingly.

She giggled again. God, that felt good. Light. Like a huge, heavy burden had been lifted from her. “It fits in that denim perfectly.” She’d always enjoyed his ass. It had usually been encased in suit pants, but she liked looking at his backside no matter what he wore.

His back, too. Damn. His shoulders were broad. She could see the lines of muscles running down toward his waist, especially in the tight T-shirt he wore today. It was much more revealing than the dress shirts he’d worn.

When he turned around, she jerked her gaze up to his face. He laughed. “So you were staring at my ass.”

She wished her face wouldn’t flush, but she couldn’t control it. “Don’t all women?” she countered.

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention to other women. Plus, my radar only senses what you are doing. No one else.”

She let her gaze roam down his body from his face, past his amazing pecs, to his six-pack abs, and then finally the front of his jeans. She didn’t know jack about penises, which would undoubtedly surprise him. The extent of her knowledge was what she could discern through the front of a man’s pants.

The cruder of the men who’d visited Master J’s house had cupped themselves lewdly in her presence as if they were so proud of their disgusting cocks. Sometimes, she’d noticed a bulge. Other times she’d been certain the men were full of shit.

Stefano had an impressive package that was usually filled out when she glanced at it, but he didn’t grab it, hold it, shake his hips at her, or even comment on it.

“You’re good for my ego,” he said as he turned back to stirring the sauce.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat at the small table, eating this gourmet meal as if they were a perfectly ordinary couple.

“This is so delicious,” she told him. “Or maybe it’s just nice to eat something someone else cooked from an actual plate with utensils while sitting at a table.”

His body stiffened.

She looked at him. “Sorry.” She felt bad every time she inadvertently said something that upset him.

He set his hand on top of hers. “Do not be sorry. I’m sorry I flinched. I’ll try not to do so again.”

“It’s okay. I’d flinch too if I were you.”

They went back to eating. Roselia was stuffed by the time they finished. Beyond stuffed. She’d taken the freedom to eat however much she wanted seriously.

“I’ll clean up,” she said as she started to stand.

Stefano stopped her with a hand on hers again. “You’ll do no such thing. Stop suggesting it. You can sit and watch me.”

She sighed. “You can’t do everything for me, Stefano.”

“Watch me,” he countered. He rose and took two of the serving dishes to the counter next to the sink.

When she followed him with their plates, he set them down before grabbing her hips and swinging her up to sit on the counter again. “Talk to me about drinks. I forgot to order anything interesting. We’ve had only water and juice so far. What sodas do you like? What about wine or other alcoholic drinks?”

She shrugged. “My mother didn’t buy sodas. I’ve only had them with fast food. I have no strong opinions. I like colas, and I’ve never tried alcohol.”

He loaded the dishwasher while she spoke. “I’ll order some carbonated drinks with the next order. Someday, I’ll introduce you to fine Italian wine.”

“I guess you’re Italian,” she murmured.

---