Puppet Master

Chapter Nineteen

Stepping out of the hot shower, she walked into the large fluffy towel he held in his arms, and he cocooned her inside it like a child as she giggled.

He slowly began to rub circles on her back through the towel, heading lower down her spine, sending waves of heat through her body far more effectively than the high tech heating system that was installed beneath her feet. She moaned as he pulled the soft flannel against her sensitive skin.

“I’ve brought some jeans and that from the house for you? I’ve laid them out on the bed; go put them on while I have a quick shave.” Playfully, he smacked her behind.

“Where are we going? We’re not uh ...” her voice trailed off, eyebrows raised suggestively.

He chuckled and stepped closer, watching his fingertips run along the delicate skin at her arms, “I wish we could babe, I wish we could stay here forever, just me, you and the honeymoon suite. But the real world awaits; I’ve got a meeting at the bank.”

Her heart suddenly felt constricted at the thought of being left alone without him, and despite how naive and unworldly it made her feel, she turned to him with puppy dog eyes. “Can .. uh.. can I come?”

His shoulders drew back from where he stood at the vanity unit, with a razor in hand ready to trim down his perpetual five o clock shadow. He stiffened at her words, and carefully evaded her eyes, arranging his shaving gels and balms like a sorcerer with his potions. Clearing his throat discreetly, he cocked his head to the sound of her voice but he still never looked at her, “To the bank? There’s nothing of any interest in the bank for you Vittoria, I’ll just drop you home.” She walked around him to the vanity, to put her jewellery back on, as she thought of a way to avoid the crushing disappointment that was consuming her.

“I want to,” she detested the desperate whine of her voice, but she couldn’t help it. “Since you cleared my schedule for the day, it’s only fair that you live up to the underlying promise there, don’t you think?” Running her hands across the warm, solid planes of his muscular chest, she ran her nose along the column of his throat; inhaling the fresh tangy scent of his shaving foam along his jaw.

He pulled the blade against his skin steadily, curling himself away from her body. “Its business stuff, you won’t be interested, but maybe you can stay in the car, while I go in? I shouldn’t be longer than an hour; I only have papers to sign and stuff. And then I’ll take you home, we can watch a film or something, maybe I can even cook us some dinner?”

Pulling away, she looked at him smirking, “You can cook?”

“Oh yes I can,” he grinned, with a cocky wink, “I took lessons after that time I set your mum’s microwave on fire, I’m kind of gourmet!”

She chuckled to herself at the memory, “What exactly does “kind of gourmet” mean? You cut the carrots into flowers?”

He growled, pulling her to him, “My petulant little princess, I’ll reprimand you later for that little token of disrespect.” His mouth swept onto hers in a hungry kiss pinning her body back against the solid tiles; his tongue tunnelled its way between her lips, massaging softly but determined, against her own. Pulling both of her slender wrists between them, he held her hands against his chest, groaning when he caught a glance of the time on her dazzling Tiffany watch, and he threw his head back in exasperation. “Vittoria Casey, you are about the only thing that I allow to disrupt my schedule. Look at the time! I’ll be at least ten minutes late for my meeting. Yet another thing you’ll be paying for this evening angel.”