Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

“How wonderful! Will you come to Chicago, too, Laila?”

I look at Savage and his eyes are saying, Please, please, please. “I’ll be spending Christmas day with my mom and sister,” I say. “But I’d love to come for a few days before then.” I’m curious to find out some details about the house Savage bought his grandmother, but if I were truly his girlfriend, I’d already know all about it. So, I ask a question that seems pretty safe. “Are you excited to move into the new house, Mimi?”

“Very excited. But I feel guilty, too, that Adrian did this for me. When he told me what he did, I told him to return it. But he wouldn’t do it.”

“A house isn’t like a pair of shoes,” Savage says. “But even if I could ‘return it,’ I wouldn’t do that. I bought the house for you, as a gift to myself. I want to see you in that house, Mimi. Now, please, let’s not talk about this again. What’s done is done.”

Mimi addresses me. “See what I’m dealing with here, Laila?”

“He’s incorrigible.”

She flashes an adorable smile at her grandson. “Thank you, Ady.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Mimi’s dark eyes widen. “Ooh! Isn’t it time to add the clams and mussels?”

Savage shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“Well, what does your timer say?”

“I didn’t set a timer. I forgot.”

“Adrian!”

Savage laughs. “I got distracted.” He pulls me into the frame and cups my face in his palm. “Wouldn’t you get distracted, looking at this face, too?”

Mimi giggles. “Yes, I suppose if I were a young man, I most certainly would. Now, show me the pot, sweetheart. I’ll be able to tell if it’s time by looking at the broth.”

Savage points his phone at the pot on the stove, and Mimi confirms her hunch is correct: it’s time to add the shellfish to the soup.

“Okay, now what?” Savage says after completing his task.

“You tell me,” Mimi says.

“Mimi, come on. It’s been forever since I’ve made this and I’ve had a long day.”

“Okay, okay.” She gives her grandson direction, while Savage repeatedly says, “Oh, yeah!” And I must admit, the entire exchange makes me giggle and swoon. They’re adorable together. Endlessly entertaining.

“Laila?” Mimi says.

I peek my head onto the screen, my eyebrows raised.

“Next time Adrian makes my cioppino for you, please remind him to set a timer at each step. It’ll work out fine this time because I’m here to save the day. But next time, he might not be so lucky.”

I look at Savage and, not surprisingly, sadness washes over his handsome features at the implication of Mimi’s comment—that she won’t be around forever.

“I’ll remind him, Mimi,” I say, taking Savage’s hand.

Finally, when the last ingredients are simmering, Savage says, “Okay, now that we’ve got everything added to the pot, let’s get you to bed, Mimi. Close your eyes.”

Mimi gets situated for the night, with the help of her caregiver. Sasha peeks onto the screen to say goodnight. And, finally, Savage begins to sing softly, in a hushed, soothing tone, “Mimi, Mimi, Mimi, I made you out of wishes. Mimi, Mimi, Mimi, and now I’m sending kisses. Hugs and kisses to you, I send them through the air. And when they reach you miles away, you’ll feel how much I care.” He sings the same refrain again, before finally whispering, “Sleep tight, sweet Mimi. I love you.”

Mimi doesn’t respond. Apparently, Savage’s lullaby had its intended effect.

Savage whispers, “Stuart?”

Mimi’s caregiver comes onto the screen, and Savage converses with him briefly before ending the call. As Savage puts his phone down onto the island, his Adam’s apple bobs. He takes a moment to collect himself, and then takes a seat next to me at the kitchen table. When he doesn’t speak, I rub his back in silence for a long moment, feeling the weight of his burden wafting off him. From what he said earlier today, I could tell he loves his grandmother. But watching him with her—watching his face as he sang to her—made me understand their bond in a whole new way. She’s everything to him, clearly. A central figure in his life.

“I’m so sorry Mimi is sick,” I say softly.

Without replying to my comment, Savage pulls me to him and kisses me deeply, with such depth of feeling, such passion, he takes my breath away. Without hesitation, I slide onto his lap and straddle him, kissing him sensuously. Finally, when we break free of our kiss, Savage looks flustered. Flushed. Disoriented. Beautiful. If he’d been born hundreds of years ago in Italy, I’d have no trouble believing he was Michelangelo’s inspiration for David.

“I know for our first date I’m supposed to feed you first and fuck you on the kitchen table second,” Savage says, his voice husky with arousal. “But I’m going to have to turn off the heat on the soup now and flip the script.”

Eight

Savage

After turning off the burner on the stove, I return to Laila at the kitchen table. Practically panting with desire, I peel off her clothes, lay her naked body onto the table, and open her smooth thighs wide, until her glorious pussy is opened to me and her pink clit is calling out to be licked like a lollipop. With my mouth watering and my cock rock-hard, I lean down and get to work, eating Laila enthusiastically, with fervent swirls and swipes of my tongue and voracious movements of my lips. And all this while stroking her with my fingers and groaning and growling like a wild animal devouring his prey.

“Savage,” Laila purrs. “Adrian. Oh, God.” She arches her back and comes undone against my tongue in the best possible way, screaming and howling as her orgasm throttles her.

“God, I love that you’re a screamer,” I choke out, enthralled by the sounds of Laila’s ecstasy.

When Laila’s body goes slack and her screams die down, I grab a condom out of a nearby drawer—one of the many I stashed there while Laila was still changing her clothes earlier—and