27. Chapter Aria
A s I fist his hair to bring us closer, he groans as our tongues clash once again, licking and exploring, and if I were standing up right now I’m sure that groan would have made my knees buckle. One of his hands roams my curves, arriving on my waist, and grips it softly, breaking us apart from the kiss.
“Darling,” he rasps through a ragged breath.
That damn nickname.
“Yes?” I breathe out.
“Can I confess something else?”
I nod as I bite my lip, trying to contain a smile.
“I’ve wanted nothing more than to kiss you again since last time,” he says through a sultry, promising whisper.
“Me too,” I confess .
His eyes lock with mine, a million questions clouding his gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”
And I know why he’s asking, because last time it didn’t end all too well for me. But this time it’s different, because I want nothing more than to get lost in him. In his touch. To be consumed by him. Be burned by him.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, and I mean it this time,” I reply breathlessly.
He lets out a throaty laugh that makes my insides melt and kisses me with such passion that envelops me, putting me in a haze. His hand travels underneath my shirt and starts moving upwards, cupping the bottom of my breast with his warm, exploratory touch, leaving a burning sensation throughout my whole body as his hands claim every inch, like he’s a starved man that has been wanting nothing but to worship my body.
He kisses my neck softly, nudging my shirt, silently seeking permission to take it off. I bring my hands up in an invitation, which he quickly accepts, grabbing the fabric and getting rid of it. His gaze travels slowly from my eyes; my lips; all the way down to my breasts. His eyes are filled with such admiration and lust that makes me feel nothing but worshiped; desired; and wanted.
No one has made me feel so much with one simple look.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he says through an appreciative groan.
I blush and look away, suddenly feeling ashamed .
He cups my cheek, gently forcing me to look at him. “Look at me, Tesoro .”
I look up, his green piercing eyes growing two shades darker as he takes an appreciative look at my body.
“Semplicemente bellissima.”
“What does that mean?”
He caresses my bottom lip with his thumb, and whispers, “Simply beautiful.”
My chest tightens at the compliment. His eyes are filled with a sincerity that makes me believe it.
I am beautiful. I am worthy. I am more.
This time, I close the distance and kiss him fervently. Our kiss becomes sloppier by the second as his hands keep roaming my body, worshiping every inch with his burning; electric touch.
His kisses travel down my neck; chest; abdomen until he arrives at my waist. He looks up, his eyes seeking permission. I nod quickly as I close my eyes, my chest heaving at the warm touch of his hands as he takes off my shorts.
An appreciative growl escapes his lips when he realizes I have no underwear on, revealing how wet and ready I am for him. The sensation is too much. I crave more of his touch—more of him —in every sense of the word. He kisses my inner thigh, his lips roaming close to my center; teasing; biting softly.
“Damian, please,” I beg .
I don’t even know what I’m begging for at this point. I’m so pent up with need that I can simply come by the way his hand caresses my legs and the way he’s kissing my inner thigh.
He licks my center in one fell swoop, and the sensation is so overwhelming all I can do is roll my eyes in pleasure as I gasp for air. The way his warm tongue devours me, the way his mouth kisses every inch like it was made for him. Like I was made for him, it’s all so good and too much at the same time.
“ Fuck ,” he groans. “You taste so fucking sweet.”
“Damian,” I moan, his sultry words making me even wetter and filling me with such a strong need I didn’t think was possible. And here I thought the man couldn’t be more perfect.
He starts licking and teasing, giving me enough friction to build me up, but not enough to take me over the painful edge. I move with the rhythm of his tongue, riding his face, wanting nothing more than to chase the sweet, muchneeded relief.
He stops and I let out a whimper, missing his mouth already. He brushes a finger along my center, coating it with my arousal before slipping it inside of me. As his finger slides in and out of me at a taunting speed, his thumb starts moving in soft circles around my swollen clit.
“Oh, fuck . I need more, please,” I plead through another moan.
“Tell me what you want, Darling,” he whispers as his lips hover over my inner thigh.
I mumble something inaudible, because I can’t seem to form coherent sentences as his hands roam all over me. His warm breath against my skin, causing goosebumps.
“I can’t hear you,” he taunts as he abruptly stops touching me. “If you want something, you’re going to have to tell me.”
I open my eyes as I lock my gaze with his, and the fucker has a playful smirk in his face.
Oh, this man is good.
I lick my lips and exhale breathlessly. I can’t believe he’s going to make me say it. “I want you to make me come, please,” I whisper shakily.
His eyes fill with eager hunger, placing both of my legs on top of his shoulders as he shifts between them. “You’re such a good girl,” he praises. “And your wish is my command, Darling.”
This time, he slips two fingers inside of me as his tongue hovers over my clit, sucking on it, creating enough pressure that shoots up my spine, rapidly building my orgasm. I squirm beneath him, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers and tongue in my pussy. His fingers slide in and out of me more rapidly, the sound of my arousal filling the room. In any other instance, I would feel ashamed, but the sound makes it so much more depraved, and dirty, it just simply makes me wetter. His tongue remains steady on my clit, making deliberate circles. Giving me just the right amount of friction I desperately need. The orgasm sneaks up on me, my vision blurring as a million fireworks explode inside my body. I moan his name over and over again as I squirm beneath him, trying to get off of his hold, but his iron grip doesn’t allow me. Looking down at him, his eyes, the ones that are filled with such desire and lust lock with mine as he licks every ounce of my arousal, not letting one single drop escape. And he looks so primal, and dirty, just drinking every ounce of me, I feel like I could come all over again just by looking at him.
It takes me a moment to come down from the high, the satisfaction. He gets up and extends his arm to me, I grab it and get up from the couch, still feeling dizzy. He scrunches down with my shorts in his hands, then softly taps my left leg so I can lift it, then my right, putting my shorts back on.
He gets up and takes my discarded shirt and lifts my arms, putting it on. Once I’m dressed, he places his hand at the nape of my neck, closing the space with a soft kiss. I can taste myself on his lips, and that makes my legs clench involuntarily.
Brushing a hair strand out of my face, he whispers, “Good night,” then turns around and starts to walk away, leaving me in a swirl of uncertainty and confusion.
Grabbing his forearm to stop him, I say, “Wait. Where are you going? What about you? ”
I’m trying my best to mask my hurt. That’s it? Just a casual hookup—if you can even call it that—and he’s just going to walk away?
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
I take a step back. Okay, now I’m officially offended. “It’s fine ? That’s all you have to say to me?”
Just as I thought we were making progress. Just as I thought he was finally letting his walls all the way down, he builds them right back up.
A humorless laugh escapes him. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear what I really have to say, Aria.”
“Try me,” I challenge.
He grazes his teeth with his tongue, weighing his words. The tension is building rapidly. Electricity flickering all over us; between us.
Oh, God. Maybe I’m not ready to hear what he has to say at all.
He stalks over me, closing the distance between us. “It’s no secret I want you.” He gulps, his eyes locking with mine. Oh, those beautiful haunting green eyes that are filled with so much uncertainty; with an unspoken emotion. My heart tightens, and I turn breathless with the intensity of his gaze.
“But I don’t just want half of you,” he says with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I want your good days; your bad days, and every day in between. I want all of you . I can’t bring myself to meet you halfway. ”
His confession shocks me, leaving me speechless. I’m frozen, standing still as my mind runs a million miles per second. I’ve never been wanted , not like this. All of my relationships have been mediocre at best. Along the way, I convinced myself that’s all I deserved. I didn't accept more, because, how could I? Not even my parents can love me properly, and they’re supposed to, for God’s sake. What makes me think I deserve anything more?
He closes the little distance left between us, hovering his lips over mine, ever so closely.
With a strained, pained whisper, he says, “If we do this, I’m determined to be your last. You and I, Aria, we’re endgame. Are you ready for that?”
All I want to do is scream— Yes! That’s all I want! All of you!
So why am I hesitating?
The realization crashes over me like an icy wave.
I don’t feel worthy of this. This wonderful man before me, that’s bearing his heart out to me, I’m not worthy of that. I’m not worthy of an epic love that consumes every bone of my body. I’m not worthy of anything .
He nods knowingly, letting go of me. Leaving a cold distance between us that makes my stomach tighten. The silence is deafening, and my throat starts closing in as my eyes fill with involuntary tears. There’s so much I want to say, yet I can’t find the right words. I don’t even know where to start .
He turns around and starts to walk away as my heart screams at me, loud and clear.
Stop him! Stop this! Go after him!
His fingers curl around the door handle, ready to turn it, but he pauses, his voice breaking the silence. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. I always will be.”
With that, he turns the handle and steps into his room, shutting the door behind him, leaving me and my racing thoughts all alone.
I’m exhausted. I got little to no sleep after everything that transpired last night. Damian’s words were an endless loop in my head.
I want your good days; your bad days, and every day in between. I want all of you. I can’t bring myself to meet you halfway.
You and I, Aria, we’re endgame. Are you ready for that?
Are you ready for that?
Are. You. Ready. For. That.
I want to be ready, God, do I want to. How do I even begin to open myself to someone, let someone come into my life and love me, when I can’t even love myself properly?
Maybe if I’m just honest and lay it all out there, we can figure it out. It’s no secret he has his issues too. Maybe this is just what we need. Learn from each other. Rely on each other. Maybe, for once, I don’t have to go through the storm alone.
If I had to choose someone to share my dark days with, it’d be him. No doubt.
Looking at the clock, it’s almost noon. I definitely overslept, but I didn’t really get to fall asleep until about three AM, and even then, I was still waking up every hour.
The auction is tonight, and I’m really looking forward to it. One painting. That’s it. That’s all we need to complete the collection, throw the gala, and let the new story of The Romano Gallery commence.
These past few months have been amazing. Having full creative control not only helped me professionally, but it also inspired me to start painting again. I met Isabella, who is now one of my closest friends. And… him . He’s the best thing that has come out of this. Working for The Romano Gallery is the best decision I’ve ever made.
I groan as I get off of the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been on. Deciding to get my day started, I take a shower, and wash my hair to make sure I can get it clean and ready to style it for tonight. I don’t have to start getting ready yet, since the auction starts at seven, so I put on a comfortable yoga set and my oversized sweater to go out and get some coffee and a late breakfast.
Walking to the kitchen, I spot Damian sitting at the kitchen island, drinking a cup of coffee and having what seems like a very intense conversation over the phone. He looks over his shoulder and shoots me one of his killer smiles, quickly hanging up the phone without saying goodbye to whoever he was speaking with.
Walking to the kitchen counter, there’s a spread of pastries, eggs, and fruit. My stomach grumbles as if on cue, and my mouth is already savoring the sweet taste of croissants.
“I got breakfast from that coffee shop you like. I also got you an iced caramel latte, which is in the fridge. Ordered it without ice, so it wouldn’t melt.”
I nod, walking to the fridge to get the caffeine I very much need.
“I also got you a cup of ice, since I know you like theirs. It’s in the freezer,” he continues.
My cheeks blush at the simple fact that he remembered such an insignificant thing like the type of ice I like. But that’s Damian for you.
Always thoughtful.
I grab the cup of ice from the freezer, open the lid, and pour the sweet caffeinated drink over the ice. Silence falls over the kitchen, the hair from the back of my neck prickles as his gaze focuses on my every movement as he bounces his legs and fidgets with his phone. Dare I say, he looks almost… nervous.
It’s actually kind of cute .
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say with a smile, then take a sip of the caramelized goodness.
He nods without saying anything.
My gaze lingers for a moment, before I grab a plate and grab a pastry with fruit. My mind is running with so many thoughts. Last night, I had more time to reflect and I practiced a handful of scenarios, but the reality is so much different. There’s so much I want to say, and this is as good a time as any, but I second-guess myself every step of the way, like I always do. Afraid of messing up. Afraid of saying the wrong thing.
Before I can speak up, he walks up to me. “Aria, listen, about yesterday.”
I gulp, dropping the plate next to the pastries and turning around. “Damian—”
“No, please. Listen,” he interrupts.
I thin my lips, shaking my head. “No. Let me speak first.”
His eyes are pleading, expectantly. He thinks he did something wrong. It’s written all over his face. Little does he know, he gave me the courage to face my fears. Gave me the courage to reflect that I, too, feel so much for him.
I let out a shaky exhale, trying my best to calm my nerves, and lock my eyes on his. Somehow, amidst everything, I’ve started to find peace in his forest-green eyes. If I get lost in them, I just know everything will be alright .
I’ve never been open to anybody, but with him, it just feels right ; safe; meant to be .
“I’m a complicated person, to say the least. I think you’ve seen enough to confirm that.”
He shakes his head, grabbing my hand and giving it a gentle, caring squeeze. “You’re not complicated at all. Trust me on that.”
He says it with such conviction, I almost believe him. But I’m a complete mess. My whole life, I’ve done things to make other people happy. It’s not lost on me the mistakes I’ve made in my life.
I’ve convinced myself I’m a shit of an artist and refuse to pursue what my heart truly desires simply because I’m afraid of rejection. Afraid of looking ridiculous. Afraid of embarrassment. Doesn’t matter that I managed to place those boundaries four years ago with my mother by disappearing off of the face of the earth, because she came back, and as soon as she did, I let her walk all over me with one single phone call.
All my life, I’ve worked my hardest to be someone I’m not. Look a certain way. Dress a certain way. Those boundaries I placed are a lie, because she’s always in the back of my head, like an inner voice telling me how worthless I am. The worst part is, I believe it. What’s even worse? I don’t know how to stop believing it .
I inhale deeply, trying to hold back the tears that want to escape. “Believe me, you’re wrong. ”
“You’re just fighting your demons the best way you can, Tesoro . Believe me, I know that.” He hangs his head in defeat with a sigh. “I’ve been fighting my demons too. Every fucking day.”
His voice is one of conviction. Of a man that has been through Hell and back, a man who is so, so tired.
A man I can relate to.
“I want to open up to you, I do. But only if you’re willing to do it too, Aria. I meant what I said yesterday. I can’t do things halfway,” he shakes his head, “Not with you.”
“I want to. I do. But I don’t know how,” I confess with a strained whisper.
He closes the distance between us, bringing me in for a hug. His cedarwood scent envelops me, making me feel at ease.
He smells like belonging. Like home.
He kisses the top of my head as the tears fall down my cheeks. It’s too late to stop them. This man, right here, can bring so many emotions out of me without feeling judged.
“Open up to me, Darling. I promise to catch you if you fall, always. Just let me be there for you.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that he will, in fact, always be there for me. I can trust him. I will trust him.
“I believe you.” I sigh. “I just need time. It’s,” I gulp, trying to find the right word, “hard.”
He brushes his knuckles against my cheek with a tender touch as he nods. “Well, I’ll be here when you’re ready. Because you’re worth it.”
The rest of the afternoon goes by quickly. I decide to stay in and study the potential pieces that are being auctioned today. I promised myself I wasn’t going to work, but this has to go perfectly. This is when my perfectionist personality comes into play, becoming a double-edged sword. There are some interesting pieces being sold today, but there are still other pieces that remain a mystery. They typically like to create some hype within the community so more people attend.
My hair’s in a sleek updo, allowing my pearl white love heart earrings to shine, adding a gold bracelet with a heart charm on my wrist that pairs well with the earrings. The dress that Sophia let me borrow is a simple one-shoulder long-sleeve made of black satin with a side slit that’s a little risqué. Since I’m taller than Sophia, the slit is settled higher than it normally would, but I’m trying not to think about it too much. I just need to remind myself: I am beautiful.
I pair the dress with my usual black Louboutin and red lip that more often than not, makes me gain much-needed confidence. Putting some perfume on, I glance at my phone to make sure I’m not running late.
Sighing, I take one last look in the mirror. It’s hard not to be self-conscious. This dress is tighter than I remembered, and I had to opt out of wearing underwear because the lines were showing. So I’m most definitely out of my comfort zone right now. The only thing I have going for me today is that I took the extra time to get my hair done in a sleek updo. Not a strand out of place, especially my ungodly curls. Otherwise, I’d have more than enough reasons to go through a whole spiral over my looks. Being a woman sucks. The way I look just consumes my every waking moment. It runs my life. It determines my mood, the way I—don’t—love myself. Everything .
Thank you very much for that, Mother.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Trying my best to remember to be kind to myself. All I hear is my mother’s voice in the back of my head, making up things she most definitely would say if she were here.
That dress is too tight. Have you been gaining weight?
At least your hair looks nice. It would look better with a perm, though.
Shaking my head, I practice one round of breathing, trying to calm my anxiety. Knowing I need to see her in just a few days is definitely fucking with my head .
Walking out of the room, my breath hitches involuntarily as I spot him. My knees buckle at the sight of him, because God, this man’s beauty is so raw and overwhelming.
He’s in an all-black tux, his vest is of black satin material, same as my dress. His pocket has a gold lapel chain with a king’s crown, the stones are blood red, the same color as my usual red lipstick. His hair is slicked back, and his face is freshly shaven, giving him a clean elegant look.
We walk out of the condo and before we get in the car, he flashes me a boyish smile that makes my heartbeat quicken, tightening my chest. He extends his hand and closes the distance between us once I grab it. He places his other hand on my hip as his lips linger on the side of my neck, taking a soft inhale that suddenly makes me feel extremely hot in the middle of the New York winter.
My hand travels to his gold lapel chain, my fingertips tracing the red stones. “I like it. It’s very you,” I taunt.
He smirks, locking his gaze on mine. “I chose it because the stones reminded me of you.”
My face laces with surprise at his confession.
He places a soft kiss close to my lips, then whispers, “You look so damn beautiful, Tesoro .”
He opens the door, and before I get in I turn around and ask, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what does Tesoro mean?”
He smirks, licking his lip before replying, “Treasure.”
Oh, I’m so, so fucking screwed.