As understanding settles in me, my cheeks burn too hot, and I’m almost too flustered to speak.
“So you…” I swallow. “Um, was it okay?” My head feels dizzy, all of me still dizzy. My brain isn’t working, but my body knows what it wants, and I long for him to climb back on the couch with me.
“Yes.” His tone is flat, almost angry. He crouches beside me, close enough so I can see his wide eyes. “Are you okay?”
I thought he seemed mad, but I realize he’s frustrated. With himself, I think. And worried about me. “Was it—it didn’t bother you or anything, did it?”
“No. No. It was…it felt good. I felt…good.” And now I feel embarrassed. By how shaky my voice is. By how my heart pounds, my body throbs and trembles. And because I’m too ashamed to tell him it feels like a flame I swallowed that’s slipped down between my thighs.
He breaks our eye contact to settle on his knees beside the couch. He leans down over me, presses his lips to mine. I can feel him waiting for me. He wants me to deepen the kiss, and I do. Every time he exhales, every time his chest pumps on a deep breath— I’m addicted to him. I need more of him; I need him closer.
I sink a hand into his dark locks, tugging so he’ll come closer. When he doesn’t—he doesn’t get up on the couch—I whisper, “Please. Get up here.”
He complies with his head lowered, crawling over me with care. He gives a soft, shy sort of smile before kissing me again, this time with open mouths and hot tongues. I can feel him try to keep his hips away from mine, but I don’t want that.
“I want to feel you,” I whisper.
We kiss, hard and frenzied, till we have to stop to breathe. I feel molten on the inside, everything swollen and heavy. Some fire in me rages, and I have this need to feel him like I did before. I want to rub against him.
Both of us are breathing heavy. Suddenly I’m so ashamed. I cover my face, and he takes my hand.
“You okay, la mia rosa?”
I nod. “I’ve never felt like this before.” I look up at him through my tears.
“Like what?”
“Like…” I can’t say, so I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re fucking beautiful and perfect, Elise. I just want to make you feel good.”
I wrap my hands around his arms, rubbing gently up and down as he props himself over me. “Could you…rub on me like before?”
Understanding flickers through his features. Then he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You don’t have to.”
“No.” He lowers himself over me, his entire body. I can feel him right away—he’s hard against my thigh. He’s hard again.
I hug his head against my chest and lift my hips toward him. I groan—just a sound my body makes without me—and he lifts his head and kisses my jaw.
“Elise, never worry. With me…just don’t be worried. Okay?”
I nod, and he kisses my mouth.
Everything feels different this time. Both of us are groaning, sweating, shaking as we press against each other. I rub and he thrusts and we tremble. He drags against me, and I moan.
“You okay?”
His hand cups the side of my face, his thumb rubbing as his eyes sear mine. I tip my head back and he kisses my throat. He rests his head beside mine, then lifts it to look at me again.
“Do you trust me?”
I nod.
“Close your eyes, la mia rosa. I want to try something I think you’ll like…”Chapter EightLucaI look at her and try to sear the image of her into my memory. Elise with her hair in waves around her face. The cat-like smile, a little smug. The way her cheeks redden when I pull her underwear back up and fix her pants and snap the button on them. She curls over on her side. I run my hand lightly over her leg.
“That was…perfect,” she whispers. Her hand reaches for me, fingers brushing my forearm as her eyes hold mine. She traces down to my wrist, running a gentle fingertip around the round bone that protrudes a little.
“I like your hands.”
“Thanks.” A sound comes from my throat that’s kind of like a laugh, but raspy because I get awkward around her sometimes. “I like your everything.”
She’s peering up at me, a little owlish, but she’s still in shy mode. I can tell. Something with her mouth.“Do you really?” she asks.
I lie behind her, wrapping one arm over her chest and pulling her against me. “Do you really need to ask?”
“How did we not know each other?”
“Before the last week?”
I feel her nod.
“I don’t know.” I trail my fingers over her shoulder, then pause. “We kind of did. Or, we met and talked and stuff, at least.”