Chapter 20 #2
I hook my fingers into the waistband and drag them down, my eyes devouring every inch of skin revealed. As the fabric clears her ankles, I don’t toss it aside. I ball the cotton in my fist and shove it into the pocket of my sweatpants.
I spread her legs wider, and seeing her like this—vulnerable, open for me on the island—is a vision I want to ruin and worship at the same time.
“Sei bellissima,” I murmur, never tiring of telling her how beautiful she is.
My fingers trace her pussy, parting the soft lips to reveal the pink flush. I rub the wetness between my thumb and forefinger, fascinated by its texture—the slick evidence of her desire. A deep sound rumbles in my chest.
I begin to circle her clit with my thumb while I lean in to reclaim her mouth. My other hand yanks the straps of her dress down, freeing her breasts.
I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, scraping it with my teeth while my fingers work below. She writhes, her hips lifting to meet my hand, getting wetter by the second.
Cecilia moans, her head falling back, offering the long, elegant line of her neck.
When I know she is close, I give her one last kiss, before pulling away.
I drop to my knees on the cold stone floor, her scent hitting me. Musky, sweet, overwhelmingly feminine. I grip her thighs, my fingers digging in to keep her open, and bring my face close to show her exactly how much I love her taste.
Cecily
If anyone asked me to write a blog post or a proper article about the last few days, I think I’d fail, drastically.
I know we were out there, walking the ancient walls of Lucca beneath a lazy afternoon sun. We shared the best gelato at Alexander’s favorite place in Florence, stood in San Gimignano, watching its towers cutting into a flawless blue sky.
The blurred snapshots of everything we did are all in my mind—but if I’m honest?
All I remember with perfect clarity... is him.
I’m grateful I have photos and videos to prove that I existed somewhere other than this bubble we created in the last few days.
It’s almost shameful, I suppose. We are in one of the most romantic places on earth, surrounded by history and beauty and centuries of stories.
.. while my attention rarely strays from the man walking beside me.
It’s like a hunger that refuses to be satiated.
In every village, every postcard-perfect street and golden hill we visited, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other for long.
His hand would find my waist and pull me into a kiss that always left me breathless.
I found myself rising on my tiptoes to pull him down for stolen kisses more times than I could count.
Since that first time we slept together, six nights ago now, the concept of mine and his has ceased to exist. The guest room that was meant to be mine remains untouched, reduced to nothing more than a wardrobe and an unzipped suitcase I never bother to close.
I’ve slept in Alexander’s bed every night, waking up to his arm wrapped around my waist every morning.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Not with this constant urgency and this desperate need to hold on to him, every single hour of the day.
And maybe that’s the most frightening part of all…
how easily he’s become my favorite place to be.
And today was no different.
We spent the afternoon wandering through vineyards tucked into the nearby hills, sampling wines I had never heard of, and that tasted even better on his tongue. By the time we got back, we were sun-tired and happy in a boneless kind of way.
When we arrived two hours ago, we made a necessary, if reluctant, decision. No showering together, because every time we step into his bathroom together, it stops being just a shower within minutes. And the dinner he promised wouldn’t happen, once again.
So now I’m leaning on the kitchen island—freshly showered and wearing denim shorts and a loose sweater—watching Alexander move around the stove, cooking for us.
The smell of stewed tomatoes and fresh basil filling the kitchen makes my stomach rumble.
“You did an excellent job chopping the herbs,” he murmurs, with a smile on his mouth as he stirs the crimson sauce in the cast-iron pot.
“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me help with anything else,” I counter, sliding my hand across his back, savoring the way his muscles shift beneath the light linen shirt he pulled on after his shower.
To be fair, my task lasted exactly four minutes.
I spent the rest of the time supervising, which is just a polite way of saying I got in his way.
I stole kisses at the base of his throat and ran my fingers along the veins in his arm every time he reached for the seasonings. I made zero effort to be subtle.
He even let me help with the gnocchi, but we both know that was just an excuse to stand behind me. He pressed his body into mine, guiding my hands as I cut the dough, murmuring instructions in my ear and eventually abandoning them to nuzzle my neck.
I can’t stop watching the way he moves. A man being so good at something as simple as cooking shouldn’t be this attractive.
He turns off the heat and faces me, boxing me in between him and the counter to give me a quick kiss. I fist his shirt as he tries to pull back, and Alexander chuckles.
“If I don’t get the plates right now, the gnocchi will be very angry with us,” he teases, kissing my forehead and then my nose.
“Just one more,” I murmur, lifting onto my toes and threading my fingers into his hair.
He doesn’t refuse. His mouth takes mine again in a kiss that makes me crave so much more.
As he finishes plating, ladling the steaming gnocchi into shallow bowls, I carry the wine we opened earlier and our glasses to the table.
We sit down to eat, and my eyes go to the door. “Sam hasn’t come back yet.”
I know Alexander said he’s safe wandering the property, but I’ve grown used to him padding in just as we settle down for the night, tail wagging like he’s been away on some grand adventure.
Alexander smiles. “Valentina texted earlier. He’s sleeping over with the twins tonight.”
Valentina, Pietro’s twin sister, is one of those people who naturally put you at ease. She does exquisite embroidery and owns an artisan shop right in the town center. And her five-year-old boys—Luigi and Giovanni, identical twins—are two cute little troublemakers.
I nod and pick up my fork.
The first bite nearly makes me close my eyes. The sauce is rich and smooth. The tomatoes, basil, and all the care he put into it make this feel like the best comfort food in the world. It’s not the first time he’s cooked for me, and I’m already dangerously spoiled.
Wanting to tease him, I say, “We did a great job... but I think we both know it was my special touch that made the sauce this good.”
He cocks an eyebrow, then lifts his glass. “To your special touch,” he says, before leaning in to steal a quick kiss.
Dinner passes between bites and stolen touches, his hand covering mine across the table while we share things we haven’t told each other before. It’s in this easy comfort that I find my courage.
Taking a breath, I set my fork down and say, “I was thinking... I only have four days left here before I have to fly home.”
Alexander’s hand tightens around mine.
“Maybe I could stay a little longer... I was thinking about changing my flight.”
His gaze stays on mine, but he doesn’t say a word. Alexander sets his wineglass back on the table, and I can’t read a single thing in his expression.
A few seconds go by, and I’m already wondering if I overstepped.
“No,” he says, and my heart sinks at the word.
I’m about to tell him it’s fine, that I get it, that it was just a thought…
But then his chair scrapes across the floor as he pulls me right onto his lap. “You don’t need to change your flight, Cecilia.”
One hand wraps around the back of my neck, his thumb tilting my jaw up. When I really look at him, I can tell he’s fighting a smile.
“Stay as many days as you want,” he murmurs. “Stay forever, if you like.” His thumb traces my jaw. “When you’re ready to go back, I’ll take care of it. The company jet will be waiting.”
“Alexander—”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to offer this from the start, the moment you told me about your trip. I just knew you wouldn’t accept.”
He nuzzles my nose and murmurs, “Let me do this for you.”
I don’t even have to think before I say, “Thank you.”
Then he kisses me, like we have all the time in the world.
I return to my seat, and the rest of dinner passes in a soft daze of happiness and relief. When we’re done, we clean the kitchen together, moving around each other with an easy rhythm I’m already getting attached to.
Checking my phone, I realize it’s almost time for my call with the kids. I tell Alexander and give him a quick kiss before heading to the living room where the Wi-Fi is better, curling up on the couch.
A flutter of anxiety stirs in my chest as I start the group call.
Ethan picks up first. He’s on the couch in the living room of the apartment he shares with his friends. He looks like he just woke up from a nap, his hair sticking up everywhere while he tries to get his eyes to focus.
A second later, the screen splits and Alicia pops up with a huge grin, her bedroom at her dad’s house in the background.
“Mom!” she says, waving at the camera. “I saw this video of a place in Rome today you have to visit!”
“Hey, Mom,” Ethan says, rubbing his eyes and smiling. “Looks like Italy is treating you well. You look... happy.”
Listening to them talk, I catch up on all the little, everyday details. Ethan tells me about some project he has to turn in next week, going on about requirements I don’t really get. Alicia starts talking a mile a minute about a movie she’s seeing tomorrow with Felicity’s kids.
Loving them this much almost hurts while I’m away like this, but seeing them happy wipes out any lingering guilt.
When I finally tell them I’m staying in Italy a little longer and give them a date for when I’ll be back, I’m ready for them to be worried or have a million questions. Instead, all I get is their support.
“Seriously? That’s amazing, Mom!” Alicia squeals. “But you have to use the extra time to buy those boots I sent you the link for. I miss you, okay?”
Nodding, I laugh. It’s so typical of her.
“Yeah, Mom,” Ethan adds. “Don’t worry about us. You deserve this more than anyone. We’re doing fine here. Just have a good time over there.”
“You guys are the best,” I tell them, my throat tightening. “But if either of you needs me, I’ll be on a plane in a heartbeat.”
Alicia rolls her eyes for even suggesting it, telling me to stop acting like they’re going to fall apart without me. Ethan jumps in right away to ask if she’s at least keeping her room clean now that no one’s around to nag her. She groans and tells him to go design a skyscraper.
My stomach hurts from laughing so hard.
We keep talking for a little while longer, until my phone is warm in my hand and my heart feels impossibly full. When I finally hang up—sending blown kisses and exaggerated hugs through the screen—I sit there smiling at nothing.
After a beat, I take a deep breath. Now comes the hard part.
Choosing a regular call, I bring the phone to my ear. He answers on the third ring.
“Hi, Cecily.”
He sounds flat, his voice hollow in a way I’ve heard way too many times.
“Hi, Colin. Can you talk?”
“Did something happen?” The worry in his voice seems to take the edge off his icy tone.
Looking out the window at the dark, I keep my voice level. “No. Nothing serious. I already talked to the kids, and I wanted to let you know too... I’m staying in Italy a little longer.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, and when he finally speaks, his voice sounds weary and even colder. “I understand.”
“I wanted to see if it’s okay for Alicia to stay with you for another week. I’m sure Felicity wouldn’t mind helping if—”
“No. There’s no need to involve Felicity,” he says, his voice harsh now. “I like having my daughter with me. Stay as long as you want.”
“Alright. If you need anything for Alicia... just call me.”
“Goodbye, Cecily.”
The call ends before I can return it. I lower the phone and stare at the dark screen.
Locking it, I decide that I won’t let his reactions steal anything else from me. I slide the phone into my pocket and stand.
The house is quiet when I go looking for Alexander—first his office, then the kitchen—both empty.
Remembering where I found him the other night with Sam, I slide the glass door open and step into the cool night, seeing him there in the garden with his back to the house. His hands are tucked into his pockets, his head tilted as he studies the vast Tuscan sky full of stars.
He hears my footsteps and turns as I walk toward him, and I press myself into his chest, my arms sliding around his waist.
“How did the call go?” he asks, his lips touching my temple.
“The kids are good,” I tell him, lifting my face to his. “They’re happy for me. They told me to enjoy myself.”
“Your children adore you,” he murmurs with a smile. “Of course they want your happiness.”
He kisses my forehead, my nose, and then my mouth… softly. Holding me even tighter, he pulls me in, and I just melt into him.
We stay out there for a long time, just listening to the wind in the trees and taking in the olive groves lit up by the moon.
When the chill finally starts to get to us, he laces his fingers through mine and leads me back inside His mouth stays on my neck as we head up the stairs, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.
He whispers things in my ear that make my heart race and my breath catch. They’re promises full of hunger and devotion, all of them sealed with his mouth on my skin.