23. Lark

Chapter twenty-three

Lark

J esus Christ Almighty . Maybe I’m the one with the foot fetish?

This delicious fucking man surprises me at every turn, and right now? He’s popping my big toe out of his mouth after licking it like a lollipop.

His hot mouth, combined with the swirl of his tongue and that gigantic, calloused hand of his scraping up my calf, has my body feeling like jelly. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep the traitorous whimper begging to release itself from breaking free. And as if nothing ever happened, he rests my leg back down in his lap, turning his attention back on the screen.

“Patrick Dempsey’s a stud. Good pick,” he says, and my racing mind can’t keep up.

Patrick Dempsey? I follow the path of his eyes and remember the movie that we’re supposed to be watching, but instead? I’m just begging my body to cool down and stop responding to every word out of this man’s mouth .

I grab a strawberry lollipop from the glass container on the small table beside me, unwrapping it. “Oh, yeah, he is,” I finally get out, sucking the lollipop in my mouth. I set my eyes back on the screen, practically gluing them there as it seems to be the only safe place for them.

Ten minutes go by, and my body is finally starting to relax, but he breaks the silence, never looking away from the screen as he says, “It’s Elisio, by the way.”

I frown, unsure of what he’s talking about. Was something said in the movie? “I’m sorry, what?” I stutter.

He peers over at me, studying my face in that controlled way of his. “My middle name—it’s Elisio.”

“Gianni Elisio De Laurentiis.” I hum in approval. “I like it.”

“My full name is really Gianni Elisio Amato-De Laurentiis. Gloria and Angelo are my adopted parents. They let us keep our last name, hyphenating De Laurentiis for ease with schools and other documentation.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise. “I didn’t know you were adopted. Why don’t you go by Amato-De Laurentiis at your games then?”

He chuckles, a low and sudden sound that makes my insides turn to mush. “Because Gianni Amato-De Laurentiis is a really long-ass name,” he tells me, his voice light.

“You’ve got me there.” I grin.

“Your turn.”

“My turn?” My turn for what?

“Your middle name; what is it?” he asks, wearing a small smirk as he enjoys watching me flounder around him.

“Amalie. ”

“Lark Amalie Hughes,” he muses, whispering in a hushed tone so quiet I almost miss it. “ Beautiful .”

My whole body flushes at that.

Turning on my side to watch the movie I’ve officially lost interest in with who’s sitting beside me, I pull the green blanket from the back of the sofa, lay it over myself as best as I can, and tuck a throw pillow beneath my head. I set the stick of my lollipop on the coffee table and settle farther into the couch.

I feel Gianni’s hand slide up my calf, tugging on the end of the blanket and pulling it over my legs to cover me up. He rests his hand on my feet, squeezing them periodically as if unable to control the movement. I fight the exhaustion weighing my lids down for as long as I can, but darkness takes me soon after.