Sarah highly doubted whether Dante could ever be considered average, even when he wasn’t with her. He was . . . “extraordinary,” she murmured aloud.
Dante threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter, and then lowered his head to her shoulder with a groan. “Only you could make that word sound so damn sexy when you’re referring to my dick.”
“Exceptional?” she tried again with a small smile, knowing that he hadn’t realized that she was actually referring to the man and not just his man parts.
“Major turn-on,” he agreed, letting his tongue trail along the sensitive spot right beneath her jaw.
“Amazing,” she sighed, tilting her head so he could have better access to her neck.
“You’re about to find out if you keep talking dirty to me this way,” he warned her in a muffled, deep, passionate voice as he bit down gently on the lobe of her ear.
Sarah moaned, knowing just about anything she said to him made him horny. Crazy man. So when he finally impaled her, sinking himself deeply inside her, she moaned, “Phenomenal.”
“Dirty girl,” Dante answered gruffly.
“Fuck me, Dante,” she begged, most of her vocabulary now evaporated along with her common sense.
“Very dirty girl,” he said with a husky groan as he did exactly that.
Sarah woke the next day deliciously sore, glad it was Saturday, and wrapped in a pair of strong, muscular arms that had held her tightly and protectively while she’d slept most of the day away. Of course, that was after she’d experienced Dante’s “phenomenal” several more times, and it had already been daylight when they’d both fallen into an exhausted sleep.
As she stretched her arms over her head and sat up, she noticed it was already four o’clock in the afternoon. “When have I ever slept the whole afternoon away?” she whispered to herself, astonished. She hadn’t had that luxury even when she’d worked all day and all night when she was in med school.
“Your fault,” Dante said groggily, sitting up and stretching just like she had just done. “You shouldn’t have started all of that dirty talk.”
Sarah’s body reacted just from watching him stretch, his broad shoulders flexing, his biceps rippling as he moved. Her eyes scanned over his sculpted chest and ripped abs, following his happy trail of dark hair that disappeared underneath the tented sheet.
Scrambling out of bed before he could catch her, she laughed as he stalked her, on his hands and knees on the mattress. Her body responded immediately, her nipples hardening as she watched his eyes grow dark and needy. She wanted to let him catch her, but she knew if she experienced Mr. Exceptional one more time she might not be able to walk. “Oh, no you don’t, mister. Keep that thing away from me. I’m sore.”
Dante flopped onto his back with a groan of defeat that made Sarah giggle. “If you aren’t going to let me fuck you, at least feed me,” he bellowed tragically, trying to make her laugh. “You’re a demanding woman and you worked me over hard. I’m famished.”
She did chortle. Sarah couldn’t help herself. When Dante was in a playful mood, he could certainly bring on the drama. Oh, she knew very well that he was playing her by trying to look pathetic. There wasn’t one feeble bone in his body. But she adored the fact that he was doing this for her entertainment.
Honestly, she probably did need to feed him. He’d expended so much energy, and it certainly wasn’t her who wore him out. Dante was . . . insatiable.
It had come as no surprise to her that Dante couldn’t cook well, and she’d found out from day one that she either needed to cook or they’d end up getting pizza or Chinese delivered every single day. She’d gotten into the habit of cooking here, a task she actually enjoyed but rarely fussed with at home because it didn’t seem worth the effort just to feed herself. But watching Dante consume multiple plates of food she’d prepared made her happy, like she was actually doing something useful for him. No one appreciated food more than Dante.
“Eggs, bacon, and pancakes as soon as I shower,” she informed him as she walked toward the bedroom door, feeling self-conscious about walking around as naked as the day she was born.
“I’ll be ready in ten,” Dante called cheerfully, rolling quickly to his feet and practically jogging to the shower.
Five eggs, half a pound of bacon, and five pancakes later, Dante was cleaning up the kitchen as Sarah sat at his piano in the living room. He was a big guy, but where the hell did he put that much food?
She’d just finished a concerto, and she cringed as she heard dishes crashing together as he loaded them into the dishwasher. It was his bargain. When she cooked, he cleaned up.
Thank God he doesn’t use real china.
Dante cleaned up the same way he did everything else: fast and furious.