Chapter 16 #2
I take her hand and lead her hurriedly down the narrow street beside us, away from the open square and from the curious eyes.
When we stop, I lift both hands and cradle her face, my thumbs tracing her jaw, my voice deep. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
I hold her gaze. “That’s all I need to know,” I murmur. “I’m following your lead, Cecilia. You set the pace.”
My eyes are drawn to the movement of her throat as she swallows.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been the one leading. Not when it comes to... this sort of thing.”
I brush my thumb over her lips and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, another closer to the corner of her mouth. “You don’t have to worry about hurting my fragile male ego,” I murmur. “If you’re the one taking control of whatever happens next... I welcome it.”
I repeat the kiss on the other side of her face, taking my time, my breath ghosting over her skin as I linger at the corner of her mouth.
When I finally pull away, I notice the way her chest rises and falls.
Her face mirrors my own want. Those blue eyes of hers, so often clear, are darker now, deeper. Pulling me in.
Without a single word, Cecilia tangles both hands in my hair and draws me back. When our lips finally touch, the kiss doesn’t build gradually. Her mouth finds mine with a hunger that knocks the breath right out of me. There is no hesitation, only need. Passionate and all-consuming.
I press her firmly back into the stone wall, my hand finding her waist and tightening there. The small sound she makes goes straight to my head and to my groin, leaving me painfully hard.
I know she feels exactly what she’s doing to me in the way her body tenses, then melts into mine. A rough curse escapes me as her hips shift, grinding against the proof of just how far past self-control she’s pushed me. I press her harder into the wall, my leg going between her thighs.
Her nails drag through my hair, tugging, guiding, taking exactly what she wants. And I let her. I let her because she feels like fire in my hands.
I break the kiss for the briefest second. Just long enough to breathe her in, to feel her chest rising frantically.
“Cecilia...” I whisper her name onto her lips, not even a word. More like a plea from a desperate man.
Her eyes dart downward for a split second, then rise to meet mine again.
She draws me back into her, urgent, and I answer in kind. My thumb traces the line of her jaw, then rests at her throat, where her pulse races beneath my touch. I tilt her head deepening the kiss, and her breath stutters on my mouth as she leans into me.
I don’t care who walks past the alley, who sees us. There is only her.
I don’t even realize I’ve made a sound until she tightens her hold on me, as if afraid I might disappear. “Cecilia... if you keep doing that—”
I stop myself, resting my forehead on hers. Every inhale tastes like her. Her lips are swollen, her breath as uneven as mine, and when I pull back to look at her—Dio.
Her eyes are blown wide with desire, fixed on me like I’m the only thing she sees.
I cradle her face in my hands. “Mi fai perdere il controllo come non mi é mai capitato prima.” The words come out ragged, and then I repeat it in English, hushed, closer this time. “You make me lose control in a way I never have before.”
She holds my gaze, mouth slightly open, as if trying to get her breathing under control, but failing, just like I am.
A whistle rings out at the end of the alley, followed by a long, “Mamma mia” in an exaggerated accent.
We glance at each other and break into laughter.
I brush my nose along her jaw, my lips near her ear as I murmur, “You really need to stop making me lose my mind in tourist attractions. At this rate, I’ll end up arrested for indecent behavior.”
She laughs and, with her hand cupping my cheek, pulls my face toward hers and kisses me again. Deeply.
When she pulls back, her eyes don’t leave mine. “Now take me to try that dish you swore is one of your favorites.”
Grinning like a fool, I lace my fingers through hers and lead her out of the narrow street as the first hints of night fall over Lucca.
“So,” I ask, watching as Cecilia takes her first bite of tordelli Lucchesi and closes her eyes, “did it live up to your expectations?”
Being around her these past few days has felt like a particular brand of torture, but the sweetest one. Even as the evenings grow colder, cold showers have become necessary. It’s like being thrown back into my teenage years... only worse. Or better. I’m not even sure anymore.
I lean across the table and steal a quick kiss before she can lift her fork again.
She laughs into it, then glances around us.
“Relax,” I murmur, running my thumb lightly over her knuckles. “In Italy, we don’t raise eyebrows at public displays of affection.”
Her smile widens as she takes another bite, a small, helpless sound escaping her that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
“This is incredible,” she says, eyes lighting up. “I think it might be the best thing I’ve eaten this entire trip. Well... except for the pasta your grandmother made last night. What was it called again?”
“Pappardelle al cinghiale,” I reply with a smile.
I remember her whispering to me yesterday, as we walked toward my car, “I never thought I’d eat wild boar and actually like it. I kept thinking I wouldn’t, and that I’d have to pretend, just to be polite about whatever your grandmother cooked.”
I lean closer and whisper, almost conspiratorially, “Just between you and me... I think this restaurant’s tordelli Lucchesi might beat Nonna’s.”
She laughs, and I reach across the table to link my fingers with hers as we begin to eat.
Dinner goes by in easy conversation, plans for the days ahead, inside jokes, and shared glances as we lose track of time.
On the drive back, Cecilia falls asleep a few miles in. I shake my head, smiling, and lean closer to check that her seatbelt is secure.
When we arrive home, I ease my door shut with care, then walk around to her side and lift her into my arms.
She stirs as I carry her toward the house, her eyes blinking open for a second. “It’s okay, tesoro,” I murmur. “Go back to sleep.”
The moment I open the front door and spot Sam curled on the couch, I lift a finger to my lips. “Shh...”
And like the good boy he is, he understands right away. No joyful barking to announce our return.
Upstairs, I carry her straight to her bedroom, laying her down carefully on the neatly made bed.
I slip off her sneakers, pull another blanket over her, and tuck it around her shoulders. I’m just about to step away when her voice reaches me, muffled into the pillow.
“Alexander... don’t go.”
I turn back, smiling, and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on the headboard.
Every part of me wants to lie down beside her, to pull her close and hold her through the night. But I won’t take advantage of something she asks while barely awake.
I brush my fingers through her hair and stay there until her breathing deepens. Then I stand, careful not to wake her. I press a kiss to her forehead and walk to the door, but not without looking back one last time. She looks so goddamn beautiful.
“Sleep well, tesoro,” I whisper, pulling the door shut behind me.