Chapter 27
Yes, I’m a coward—otherwise I wouldn’t feel so relieved to wake up and see that Gianni is no longer by my side.
I’m used to not having, to not belonging.
I don’t want to get comfortable feeling cherished, desired, and that’s exactly what he’s made me feel from the moment he took me for the first time.
As he promised, he spent the entire night making love to me.
There was nothing delicate about the way our bodies possessed each other until dawn, since we were crazed with desire for one another, but I have no name for it other than making love, because every time he was inside me, he was also with me.
In every drop of my blood, in every cell of my body.
His eyes locked on mine, our fingers laced, the words whispered—everything conspired to make last night one I’ll never forget.
Before him, I only ever had one boyfriend. With the life my sister and I lead, balancing running and a stable relationship isn’t simple. Mainly because I never fully trusted Brent, my ex.
I wasn’t in love with him, what I felt was nowhere near the storm of emotions Gianni stirs inside me, but I liked him, and for a while, I considered settling in one city, so we stayed together.
We’d meet for dinner and dated for two months, until finally, at twenty-seven, I decided to find out what normal sex was, rather than the monstrous thing that happened on the farm.
My first experience was good, sweet; I think most women would call it perfect, even if he never knocked my socks off.
He had a stable life, he was in the Navy, and since he was being transferred to a base in Okinawa, Japan, he wanted to get married.
The Romani side of me might have accepted that adventure if I were alone in the world, but I would never leave my sister behind.
When I explained my situation to him, he accepted it without pressing, and even though I didn’t love him, I was disappointed and realized we’d never work out.
When I’m with someone for real, I don’t want lukewarm; I want a man who, if he thinks he might lose me, comes after me.
I prefer the fight, the tears, the slamming doors, to a civilized “all right, I wish you luck, Elodie” that shows me I’m not someone he thinks is worth fighting for.
A few months after we broke up, I could barely remember his face, which proved that, with or without Amber, ending it was the right decision.
With the arrogant Italian in whose arms I spent the entire night, however, I know that will never happen.
Gianni is intense, possessive, dominant.
He is fever, delirium.
He terrifies me because in just a couple of days, he’s made me touch the sky.
He’s the kind of passion I always dreamed of—overwhelming, the kind that puts butterflies in your stomach and throws your heart out of rhythm most of the time.
It’s the give and take; it’s not apologizing for the bite, for the intensity.
Even though I know my situation in Italy is precarious, and I might have to leave at any time, I’m not going to run from what I’m feeling.
Still, I need this time alone before seeing him again.
I look around his suite, decide I’ll take a shower, and only then head to my room. I don’t have clothes here, but in the middle of the night, we used the shower and I saw a robe in there.
I get up and start toward the bathroom, but before I can reach it, I feel him.
It isn’t any noise he makes coming into the room, it’s the goosebumps on my skin giving him away.
I stop and wait for him to come closer. I don’t mind being completely naked.
“Romni” he whispers as he hugs me from behind, his mouth grazing my neck.
His body is hard, the erection inside his pants pressing against my butt.
A chill of anticipation spreads through my belly even before his big hand reaches the place between my thighs.
“I had to make some calls. I was hoping I’d still find you asleep.”
“Why?” I ask, and my voice comes out more like a prolonged moan.
“I wanted to make your pussy my breakfast.”
“You have a filthy mouth, Italian.”
“I’ve got a much filthier mind, bella.”
Gianni lifts me up and, in a move only a man as big and strong as he is could pull off, lies down with me seated over his face.
I do my best not to be embarrassed, but it’s impossible.
Even if he’s my second relationship, the previous experience, satisfying as it was, was very vanilla. I’ve never done a third of the things Gianni taught me last night.
He grips my waist, steadying me over his mouth.
“Come down, Elodie. I’m starving.”
He doesn’t ask again; he makes me sit on his mouth. His hot tongue invades me, mimicking what his fingers and cock did throughout the night.
As if my body has a will of its own, I grind on his face, and when I feel his teeth skim my clit, I go dizzy, like I’m in free fall.
He’s skilled, experienced, and it doesn’t take long before I come undone. My climax is so intense it slickens his chin and lips, and when he runs his tongue over them, gathering what escaped his mouth, I almost come again.
“Were you headed for a shower?”
I nod, unable to speak.
Again, he surprises me with his strength and lifts us both at once.
A second later, I’m standing in the bathroom and he’s turning on the water for me.
“Don’t look at me like that, amore. I’ve got a video conference in five minutes.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’ve got the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen, Romni. I love that.”
Gianni frames my face in his hands and kisses me, and as soon as our tongues meet, I feel like I’m floating, lost in him.
One of his hands slides to my back, pulling me close.
The other tangles in my hair, twisting to angle my head the way he wants.
Everything about him is scorching. With him, a simple kiss isn’t just a kiss, it’s a staking of territory.
His tongue plunges deep, claims me, and the satisfied sounds he makes at having me submit to him are in themselves a kind of foreplay.
He doesn’t end the kiss abruptly; he leaves a trail of others across my face, my eyes, my chin.
With every caress, he hooks me deeper, and I bury my hands in his hair, drawing him to me, surrendering to the need.
I feel triumphant when he sets me on the bathroom counter and reaches for the zipper of his jeans, but then his phone rings, shattering the moment.
“I’m not going to run,” I say when I catch the conflict on his face.
It was meant as a joke, but he doesn’t smile.
“If you run, I’ll come after you.”
Coming from another man, that declaration would terrify me. With him, I want to have him sign a document forcing him to make good on that threat.