I laugh again. “Have you met my dad? I can’t believe you’re surprised you never see any guys hanging around.”
“So there are guys, then?” he asks, his eyes piercing mine. His gaze is so intense, I have to look away, turning my attention to my fingernails instead.
“Not really,” I admit. “I spend so much time on my dancing—”
“Lucy, you’re twenty-one. You need to make time.”
He shakes his head, pushing my feet off his lap. Repositioning himself next to me, he is now facing me.
“You miss out on way too much. We’re alike in many ways, Luce. We both had to grow up very quickly. Me with losing my parents, and you with your mother.”
“This isn’t about her,” I mumble, pushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“Isn’t it?” he asks. “You push people away because you’re afraid of getting hurt. Even your friends. Even me.”
I look up, my eyes meeting his. He thinks I push him away? I might stop myself from getting too close to him sometimes, but what else can I do?
“I’m sorry you think that,” I say, my voice soft. “It’s not intentional—I guess in a way, you’re right. I’m scared of losing people I love.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice is husky. It takes all my resolve not to reach out and touch him. If there were ever a perfect moment for me to take a damn chance, it was now. I so badly want to feel his lips pressed against mine, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I want him so much but I’m scared. I’m terrified of looking like a fool.
“Fuck this,” he growls.
He lunges forward, his rough hands caressing my face as he pushes his lips against mine. My heart pounds as I wonder if this is really happening. Any moment I expect to wake up and discover this is just a sexy, hot dream—which wouldn’t be the first time.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this,” he mutters, his expression strained. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be this close to you and not feel your body up against mine. I can’t keep wondering how you taste.”
I kiss him again, this time with more urgency and purpose. Crawling closer to him, I plant myself in his lap, my thighs straddling his warm body as he slouches lower on the sofa. His fingers move around the hem of my dress as it rides up my thighs.
I shiver as he lowers the zipper on my dress, my back arching as his fingers brush over my skin. My heart pounds as I think about what we’re about to do. I tell myself that it’s no big deal, but I know it is. To me, it is. I couldn’t think of a better person to share this experience with than Pietro.
Gasping, my thighs tremble as his fingers explore my body. I’m so ready for him, aching to feel him inside of me. Grunting, he lifts my dress over my head and tosses it on the floor. He unclasps my bra, which soon joins my dress on the floor.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Lucy,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, just feel you in my arms.” His eyes connect with mine, like he’s searching my soul. I’ve never felt so exposed in all my life.
“Can I take you to the bedroom?” he asks, lifting me into his arms before I can even answer.
I wrap my legs tightly around him, my arms hanging around his neck as he carries me through the apartment and to the bedroom. Gently, he lays me down on the bed, then himself next to me. I reach for his pants, unzipping them as his lips search mine. He shrugs off his pants, then his shirt, until all that separates us is the thin material of my thong.
“Come here,” he whispers. He rolls over, taking me with him so I’m sitting on top. My legs either side of him, I relish in the feeling of power I have. His erection presses against my panties as I gently rock back and forth. He groans, his hand running along the arch of my back, sending my hormones into overdrive. He fumbles on the nightstand for his wallet, and produces a condom. I relax a little, seeing how prepared he is. Not that I’m not prepared. I’ve been on birth control since I turned sixteen just in case. I wait as he slides it on, gasping as he rips my thong off me.
“Hey!” I giggle, shocked by his assertiveness. “That was one of my favorites.”
“Then I’ll buy you another,” he mumbles, lifting me onto his length.
“Oh,” I gasp as he enters me. I’m so wet that he slides in with ease, my muscles contracting around him. My nails dig into his chest as I ride him, working myself into a rhythm.
Without warning, he rolls both of us over. I lie on the bed with him on top of me, my legs parted and curled around his waist. He thrusts in
side of me again, and I gasp, my eyes staring into his. I could stay like this forever. I’ve never felt so close or connected to someone as I do right now.
I lift my hand to his face and trail the line of stubble down to his jaw. My fingers creeping around his neck, I pull him closer to me, my lips pressing against his. He kisses me back, his mouth on mine, his fingers digging into my scalp. I groan as he fills me, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of me.
“God, yes,” I whisper. Tension builds inside me as my lips fight to remain on his. Gasping, I arch my back, my head rolling back on the pillow as ecstasy soars through me. His thrusts become faster and more urgent until one final push sends him over the edge.
He collapses on the bed next to me, out of breath. I turn over so I’m facing him, unable to wipe the smile from my face. I can’t describe how I feel. I can’t believe we did that. My expectations for sex weren’t that high and being with Pietro was more than I could have ever imagined. It wasn’t all soft and romantic like it was portrayed in the movies. It was hot, sexy, and gritty.