The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

33 - Bare

Ruggiero

The unmistakably savory aroma of jota wafted through my nose when I pushed open the front door. The familiar scent both threw me off and intrigued me. It smelled like my childhood home in Udine during the holidays. Keeping the bouquet of flowers securely in my hand, and the tote bag on my shoulder, I shut the door and locked it.

Once I stepped out of my work boots, I followed the smell and the sound of country music further into the house.

The closer I got, the more the house smelled like a diner in Friuli. Over the past five or so months, I'd learned she could replicate any meal with enough effort. She was a phenomenal cook and had proven so time and time again. I didn't doubt her ability replicate Friulian cuisine without error. If the aromas swarming the house meant anything, it meant she had.

The music grew louder as I padded through the front hallway and the living room, past the kitchen, and into the dining room. The table was set for two and my woman sat at head of it, presenting a centerpiece of covered dishes. Surprised, I glanced along the table before meeting Jace's gaze. The long waves I was used to were chopped just before her chin, dark red hair framing her soft face. All traces of the honey-blonde had been eliminated.

Her shoulders were covered by a silky black robe tied around her waist in a bow. Honestly, it wasn't covering much. I struggled not to drop the items I held and swoop her into my arms as I stood at the edge of the table.

"Jace," I murmured, "Sei meravigliosa."

"Ruggiero," she returned, a small smile spreading across her lips and a glimmer in her blue eyes. "Are those flowers a centerpiece for the table?"

I shook my head, doing my best to ignore the sweat forming in the palm of my hands, and cleared my throat. While I always did my best to compose myself, it was hard not being even the slightest bit nervous around her. "No, Jace, they're for you," I declared.

"Oh, they are?" Her lovely smile grew wider. She pushed her chair out and stood up. "What's in the bag?" My eyes scanned the length of her torso as she sauntered toward me. The garment wrapped her body faultlessly, doing a wonderful job at accentuating the swell of her breasts and her curves. She looked like a present ready to be unwrapped.

"I'm more concerned with what's underneath those lids," I told her, gesturing toward the table with my free hand. "I know these smells very well and I'd like a confirmation."

Jace ignored me, coming closer. She was so close I could smell her, wearing notes of warm vanilla bean and hazelnut. She rubbed her hands down my shoulders and caressed my arms. Goosebumps rose along my skin. "How come there's hardly any grime on your uniform?" she asked. "Were you not at work today?"

"I was at work, but only until one-thirty," I admitted. "I had to prepare something." I dragged my gaze from her body and met her ravenous eyes with my own.

"Prepare what, if I may ask?" Jace stepped closer until there was only enough space between our chests to keep from crushing the flowers.

I wanted to hold my surprise a little longer. "I will tell you once we've eaten your delicious dinner," I said, hoping I satisfied her.

"I guess that's fair." Her hands slid from my wrists to my hands clutching the stem of the bouquet. Closing her eyes briefly, she inhaled. "Wow, Rue, these are very nice."

"Dolcezza, they don't hold a candle to you," I assured her. I wasn't kidding when I said she was marvelous. I had been taken by Jace since the first time I saw her.

With a soft tug, she pulled the flowers toward herself. I relinquished my hold of them. A small smile stretching her lips, she said, "Have a seat, Ruggiero, I'm going to put these in a glass and come right back."