❝𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨. 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.❞
❦
"What are you doing in my fridge?"
I immediately grabbed my knife strapped to my thigh and pointed it at the person behind me's throat.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
He wasn't even fazed by...
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I can't contain my smile as I reach up to his hair. He smiles at my struggle and lifts me so that my legs wrap around his torso.
"This is so fun," I whisper as I rub the shampoo through his hair. He hums in response and stares at me intently.
After each of us washed he handed me a towel that I wrapped around my body and he wrapped one around his torso.
He gave me an extra toothbrush and we brushed our teeth together.
As soon as finished he threw me over his shoulder and I yelped. He slapped my ass and I lifted my head, holding onto his waist.
"Hit my ass again and I'm poking yours with my finger," I warn and he gives my ass a little squeeze.
I muffle a laugh in his back and he plops me down onto his bed.
"We should really get dressed first," I say sitting up as I hold my towel against my body.
"We don't have to," he shakes his head and falls next to me.
"Well I do," I say getting up and he points towards his closet.
"Go for it," he nods and I tighten my grip on my towel.
"I will," I give him a single nod before walking towards his walk-in closet.
My mouth nearly drops when I get inside.
Everything is so formal and... clean. And expensive. Not a single thing is out of place. I slowly walk in further as my eyes grow wider and wider.
After about a solid ten minutes of admiring a closet - I know, that's quite sad - I picked out a t-shirt and some sweatpants.
I thought for a while and left the sweatpants.
Last time didn't go so well.
I threw on the shirt that stopped just a little above my knees. Perfect.
I walked out to find him standing at the floor-to-ceiling window with his back facing me. His phone was pressed to his ear as he spoke a few Italian words.
I squinted my eyes as I got closer to him.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and noticed the scars on his back. I felt my heart ache as my eyes traveled to each scar.
I lightly kissed each of his scars and rested my cheek against his back, closing my eyes.
He said something in Italian and I could tell he was smiling simply because of the tone of his voice. I subconsciously smiled too.
He ended the call and turned his head back over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he asks and I put my chin against his back.
