Zeno chuckled again and I kissed him, flinging away my book so it was out of reach. His arm banded around my lower back, and his free hand caressed my naked thigh and hip. “I’m not lying, Darla.” I wanted to bottle up that laugh of his. “My favourite meal is you and anything Italian.”
“Mine is chicken parmesan. Will you cook it for me sometime?”
He jokingly glared at me. “Non. I’m going to teach you and you’re going to cook it forme. I feel like a wife in the fifties. Cooking you dinner, bringing you dessert, massaging your body, and now reading you a bedtime story. It’s time you spoiled me too.”
“I’m a really bad cook, Zeno,” I said miserably.
His face softened. “I know, sweetheart, but Laurent and I can give you lessons in the evening if you’d like. You’ll be a master chef in no time.”
“I do know how to make chocolate chip cookies, though. Without burning them, of course.” I tapped his chin in a chiding manner.
“I like chocolate chip cookies.”
“I can make you some tomorrow.”
“I’d love that.”
Zeno’s fingers travelled over my spine. It was a heavenly touch. “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” he requested in a soft voice.
I listened to his thumping heart as thought about it. “I used to wear glasses in my late teen years.”
My vision wasn’t too bad and now I wore contacts on a daily basis.
Zeno’s fingers yanked my hair near the nape of my neck, forcing my head up. I groaned in sweet pain and my husband narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re telling me I could have had the entire naughty librarian fantasy this whole time?”
I inched him a sly smile. “I’ll wear a pair the next time I suck you off. Deal?”
“Deal.” He squeezed my ass cheek. “And you’re going to do it while wearing a collar and leash around your throat. This is non-negotiable.”
I traced the edge of his bottom lip. “Do you have any other fantasies I should know about?”
“One of these days, I’m expecting to arrive home to you in a little French maid outfit, Mrs. De la Croix.”
“Kinky,” I teased him and he bit my thumb in retaliation. “Sounds good,mon amour.”
“Tell me something else,” he whispered. “Something that not a lot of people know.”
I gazed into his unguarded eyes and felt an inexplicable tightness in my throat. I rarely spoke about this, but it felt right to tell him. “I was diagnosed with a benign tumour a decade ago.”
Zeno’s body froze underneath mine. His gaze rose to mine and an unfathomable emotion shimmered in his brown depths. “You…you’re okay now, right?”
The words were glazed with rawness.
I nodded and cupped his cheek to ease him. “Yes, I had a successful surgery. The tumour was really small and not life-threatening. But it was a scary experience that toughened and matured me in ways I probably can’t describe.”
The anticipation, worry, and fear I went through during that period really made me appreciate every blessing I’d been given.
My husband squeezed me in his arms and closed his eyes like he was afraid to show too much vulnerability. I kissed the base of his throat. “I’m really okay, Zed.”
We spent the next few minutes in companionable silence, our slow breathing doing the talking. I wanted to unwrap each one of his layers and feel their weight in my hands. This enigmatic man, all mine for the taking.
“Did you have any pets in your childhood?”
Zeno grew serious. “I didn’t have money to eat, let alone buy a pet, Darla.”
I winced at my own ignorance. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I didn’t mean to sound curt. Forgive me.” He kissed my forehead once more and after a few seconds, said, “Yves brought me a dog once I got adopted. His name was Charlie and he was a golden retriever. He died ten years ago.”