Chapter 9: The Cottage

Ottavio carried me out of the barn, across the dark yard, and up the two steps of the cottage.

He kicked the door shut behind us.

"You said tomorrow," he said against my mouth.

"I did."

"Then tell me why I'm still standing here holding you."

"Because I changed the terms."

He set me down at the foot of the bed.

The quilt was cold under my knees. The wood stove ticked in the corner, banked low.

He stood over me and looked for a long moment, his chest rising.

"The roof and nothing else," he said. "That's what you told me."

"Ottavio."

"I'm only reminding you."

"Take your shirt off."

He did, one-handed, dragging it over his head.

His chest was broad and scarred in two places, and dark hair ran down his stomach to his belt.

I put my palms flat against him.

He was hot. His heart hammered under my right hand.

"Your turn," he said.

He lifted my sweater over my head and dropped it on the floor.

His mouth found my collarbone, then the swell of my breast above the lace.

I gasped.

"Look at me," he said.

I did.

He unhooked my bra with two fingers and took it off me slowly, watching my face the whole time.

"God, you're beautiful."

He cupped my breasts and dragged his thumbs over my nipples until they hardened, and I pushed into his hands.

"More," I said.

"Say it properly."

"I want your mouth on me."

He took my nipple between his lips and sucked, hard, and I grabbed his hair and held him there.

My head fell back.

His other hand worked at the button of my jeans.

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