~Sequel to Boschetto's Fifty Shades Darker~
Little did you know that the mysterious and intense man who had swept you off your feet since day one, making you feel you were the light in his life, was a well-known figure in his home country and abroad...
"Mm, good morning," you mumbled. You really didn't want to open your eyes, but you smelled coffee, so you lifted one lid.
You glimpsed Ignazio setting a breakfast tray on the bedside table, next to a room service cart loaded with what appeared to be a lot of covered plates. "Are you too sleepy?" he asked.
"No." You opened your eyes and looked at him, noting that he was dressed in loose sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt. You enjoyed the view.
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The mattress dipped as he moved toward you, his lips brushing over your shoulder then along your neck to your cheek. He sprawled beside you, propping his head in one hand. The other stroked up and down your arm. His hair hung around his forehead and temples, looking even sexier for being sleep-tousled.
He studied you for a long moment, tracing a line over each of your features with a reverent touch. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like a painting?"
"A painting?" You laughed, warmth rushing to your cheeks. "I don't think anyone has. I hope you aren't thinking Picasso or Dali."
"More like Botticelli." He smoothed your hair away from your face. "I love that you aren't starving yourself into a size two. You're so real. Real curves, real boobs..."
"That makes me wonder what kind of woman you're used to dating." And trying not to wonder, at the same time.
"It makes me realize all the others weren't women at all."
Oh God. The sincere way he looked down at you, those intense dark eyes... You were in such trouble.
"Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and all that. Keeps me in my real womanly figure. So, what's under all those lids?" You swiftly gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek. You had to get out of that topic before he started looking too closely at your flaws.
"I didn't know whether you'd feel like having a traditional Italian breakfast or the continental, so I ordered a bit of everything."
"Looks like a feast."
"There's hot chocolate, cappuccino, juice, yogurt, home-made granola, pancakes, jam, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, cold cuts, cookies and freshly baked bread, cornetti, fagottini, bomboloni, girelli—"
"Whoa, freshly baked bread and what?" You were a little befuddled by all that food and all those names.
He laughed and the sound spread warmth through you. "They're all Italian pastries. Cornetti are like French croissants but less buttery and slightly sweet. Girelli are like raisin swirls, bomboloni are the equivalent of a filled donut and fagottini the equivalent of the 'pain au chocolat' but can have different fillings other than chocolate. You'll love them." He winked at you, smiling amusingly.
"Well, it sounds really delicious, Ignazio, and so does the idea of breakfast in bed with you...but I have to feed Alice," you said, throwing back the covers, preparing to slid out of bed. "I have to check on them, they're probably-"
