They both knew he wasn’t one to laze in bed even during weekends.
“What did you want, Eloise?” Jordan said, avoiding answering the unasked question.
“Mom is panicking because Mrs. Hudson knocked over the wine bottles, and now we have no wine for dinner! Dad will have a stroke if we serve some cheap wine from Whole Foods.”
“Pretty sure there’s some expensive stuff there too,” Jordan said distractedly. He was distracted by the strong fingers grazing lightly against his hip, the contrast between Damiano’s gorgeous darker skin and his own pale skin fascinating.
“You know what a wine snob Dad is,” Eloise said. “So drag your ass out of bed and go get some good wine before he finds out what Mrs. Hudson did.”
“You know I understand nothing about wine!” Jordan said, but Eloise had already hung up.
Great.
“Who is Mrs. Hudson?” Damiano said into his ear.
Shivering, Jordan turned his head and pressed his cheek against Damiano’s. Neither of them had shaved since Damiano’s arrival, but unlike his own barely noticeable stubble, Damiano’s was closer to scruff. It felt delicious against his skin. “Mmm?”
“Mrs. Hudson,” Damiano said, kissing along his jawline. “The one who knocked over the wine.”
“Oh. She’s…” Jordan gasped, turning his head and seeking Damiano’s mouth. He wanted kisses. It was frankly alarming how thirsty for this man he still was despite the non-stop sex marathon “A cat. She’s a cat. Kiss me. One last time. And then I’ll have to go.”
Damiano kissed him.
It wasn’t the last one.
About an hour later, Jordan finally managed to get out of bed—and only because his phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Eloise could be annoyingly persistent.
“Holy shit,” he swore, grabbing the wall as dull pain shot through his lower body. He’d never gotten this sore from dildos. This was something else. Turning his head, he glared at Damiano but quickly turned away because the bastard looked so kissable lounging naked in bed, his hair tousled and his eyes soft with satisfaction. Ugh.
“Fuck, I don’t think I can drive like this, much less search for some ‘good wine’ by my dad’s standards.”
“I can give you a lift,” Damiano said.
Jordan bit his bottom lip, hesitating. He knew he should say no. It was a terrible idea. It was very clear that he couldn’t be trusted to be alone with this man, given how reluctant to part from him he still felt after nearly two days of non-stop sex and who knew how many orgasms. He should say no and hail a cab.
But.
“Do you know anything about wine?”
***
Lorenzo looked less than impressed when he saw Jordan walking—half-limping—to the car. But his pinched expression quickly shifted into one of blankness when Damiano shot him a cold look.
Damiano said something in Italian, Lorenzo nodded and got into the driver’s seat, and then they were off.
Jordan reclined in the backseat, trying to take the pressure off his sore ass. Maybe they should stop by a drugstore and he could buy something for it. But fuck, how would he even ask for something like that?
He was still mulling it over when the car came to a stop. “Are we there already?” Jordan said, looking out the window. He’d rather not look at Damiano unless he had to. He didn’t trust himself.
“No,” Damiano said as Lorenzo got out of the car. “We stopped at a pharmacy. Lorenzo will buy something for your soreness.”
Jordan stared at him. “Lorenzo will buy something for my soreness?” he choked out. “Why would he do it?”
Damiano looked infuriatingly unflappable—and still infuriatingly attractive. “I told him,” he said simply.
“You told him. That my asshole is sore.”
A corner of Damiano’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”
“I can’t fucking believe you,” Jordan said, groaning and covering his face with his hands. “I hate you. How am I supposed to look him in the eye?”
Damiano, the dick, laughed. “Easily. Ignore him. It’s his job to do as he’s told. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“It’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one walking bowlegged.”
“That’s precisely why I sent Lorenzo to the drugstore. You can’t go to your family dinner like this.”
Jordan couldn’t argue with that logic.
“You should have told me you were that sore. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Jordan removed his hands and looked at him. Damiano’s expression was a little uncomfortable and he held himself stiffly, but his eyes shone with sincerity.
Jordan hoped he didn’t look as lovesick as he felt. Darting forward, he buried his hand in Damiano’s hair and kissed him softly. Or at least it was supposed be a soft, short kiss. But his lips parted for Damiano’s tongue, and the kiss quickly turned needy. God, he was beginning to get scared that he’d never get enough of this man.
An awkward cough made them finally part.
Jordan tore his gaze away from Damiano’s lips and half-lidded eyes and stared blankly at Lorenzo, who looked like he’d swallowed a lemon as he handed him a package before turning away and starting the car.