Chapter 12 - Losing control
Matteo
I sign the last document with more force than necessary, sliding the folder back across the table to Giovanni.
"Are we finished now?" I ask, not bothering to mask my impatience. "Or did you bring more 'urgent' paperwork that somehow couldn't wait until Monday?"
Giovanni smirks, tucking the folder into his briefcase. "That's all for now. Though I find it interesting that you're suddenly so eager to conclude our business meeting."
"I have a guest," I remind him, already rising from my chair. "It's rude to keep her waiting."
"Ah yes, the beautiful American." Giovanni leans back in his chair, studying me with an expression I don't care for. "The one who's just your 'arrangement.'"
I narrow my eyes. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing at all," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just observing that I've never seen you rush through contract negotiations because a woman was waiting.”
I choose to ignore the knowing tone in his voice. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to change for the pool."
"Of course." Giovanni gathers his papers. "I won't keep you from your not-girlfriend any longer."
I leave without responding, striding through the villa's corridors toward the master suite. Giovanni's words linger in my mind, uncomfortable in their accuracy. I am rushing. I am impatient to get back to Sasha. And it does feel different from any relationship I've had before.
But this thing with Sasha is temporary. Casual. Mutually beneficial. The intensity of my reaction to her is simply because the sex is exceptional, the chemistry undeniable. Nothing more.
I reach the suite, half-expecting to find Sasha there, but the rooms are empty. She must have already gone down to the pool. I change quickly into swim shorts, grabbing a linen shirt to throw on over my bare chest and a pair of sunglasses.
As I make my way through the villa toward the pool terrace, I rehearse what I'll say to Sasha. Something casual but charming. Something that won't reveal how much I've been thinking about her since we separated an hour ago.
I step out onto the terrace, the afternoon sun warm on my skin, and freeze mid-stride.
Sasha is already there, reclining on one of the poolside loungers. And she's wearing... Jesus Christ.
The black fabric of her bikini contrasts sharply with her skin, which gleams with some kind of oil catching the sunlight. The top barely contains her breasts, and the bottoms—God, those bottoms—reveal more than they conceal, showcasing the perfect curve of her ass and those endless legs.
She hasn't noticed me yet. Her eyes are closed behind oversized sunglasses, one arm flung lazily above her head, the other holding a glass of what looks like Prosecco. She seems completely at ease, as if she belongs here on my terrace, in my private sanctuary.
My body reacts instantly, desire coursing through me with such force I have to take a breath to steady myself.
I've seen her naked. I've had her in my bed, writhing beneath me as she called my name.
But somehow, the sight of her like this—confident, relaxed, unaware of my presence—is more erotic than any of our previous encounters.
I approach slowly, deliberately, savoring the anticipation. When I reach her lounger, I let my shadow fall across her, alerting her to my presence.
"Enjoying yourself?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.
Sasha pushes her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, her eyes meeting mine with a spark of mischief. "Very much," she replies, stretching slowly. The movement causes her breasts to strain against the minimal fabric containing them.
God! What is she trying to do? Kill me?
"I see Claudia found you," I nod toward her drink. "Is the Prosecco to your liking?"
"It's perfect," she says, taking a deliberate sip. "Everything here is perfect."
I sit on the edge of her lounger, my thigh brushing against hers. Her skin is warm and silky beneath my touch. "Including the company?"
Her lips curve into a smile. "Especially the company."
I want to kiss her. I want to slide my hand beneath those tiny scraps of fabric and make her gasp my name. Instead, I trail my fingers lightly up her calf, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. "That's quite a swimsuit."
"You like it?" she asks, feigning innocence.
"I like it a little too much," I admit, my hand continuing its journey up her thigh, stopping just short of where the fabric disappears between her legs. "Though I find myself thinking about removing it."
Her breath catches audibly. "There are other guests," she reminds me, though she makes no move to shift away from my touch.
"Not in our private pool," I counter, nodding toward the far side of the terrace. "That one's connected to the master.”
"You have a private pool?" she asks, sitting up slightly. The movement causes one strap of her bikini top to slip down her shoulder. I reach out, my fingers brushing her collarbone as I slide it back into place.
This little piece of cotton is driving me insane.
“Let me show you,” I offer her my hand and she take it, allowing me to pull her to her feet.
As she stands, I get the full effect of her swimsuit, or lack thereof.
The back of the bottoms reveals the perfect curve of her ass, two dimples visible just above where the fabric begins. I have to force myself not to stare, though I'm certain she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
"Lead the way," she says, collecting her cover-up but making no move to put it on.
I guide her across the main terrace, nodding politely to the Baroni family lounging at the far end. Signora Baroni raises her eyebrows at the sight of Sasha in her barely-there bikini, while her husband pretends not to notice but fails miserably.
"You're causing quite a stir," I whisper against Sasha's ear as we pass through an archway of flowering vines. "Poor Signor Baroni nearly got a slap from his wife for staring at you."
Sasha laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I think Signora Baroni was staring too," she observes. "This bikini tends to have that effect."
"On everyone but especially on me," I admit, my hand slipping lower to rest just above the curve of her ass. "I've been thinking about getting you out of it since the moment I saw you."
A blush spreads across her cheeks. "Maybe you should do something about that."
I swear she is trying to kill me.
Thankfully, we make it to the pool without me losing my mind.
“This place is incredible,” Sasha says as she takes in the view. She walks to the edge of the pool, dipping her toe in the water.
“Incredible views for an incredible woman,” I reply, watching her move. The sway of her hips, the elegant curve of her spine, the way the sunlight catches in her hair—every detail of her imprints itself on my memory.
I follow her to the pool's edge, coming to stand behind her. My hands settle on her waist, fingers splaying across the bare skin above her bikini bottoms. She leans back against me, her body fitting into mine perfectly.
"Turn around," I groan, barely recognizing my desire ridden voice.
Sasha obeys, turning slowly in my arms until we're face to face.
Her eyes are dark with wanting, her lips slightly parted.
I cup her face between my palms, studying every detail—the spray of freckles across her nose, the flecks of gold in her irises, the small scar near her eyebrow I've never noticed before.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the pool water.
"Memorizing you," I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. "Every perfect inch."
Her hands come to rest on my chest, fingers splaying against the fabric of my linen shirt. "You're still wearing too many clothes," she observes, beginning to work the buttons free.
I let her undress me, watching the concentration on her face as she pushes the shirt from my shoulders. Her hands explore my chest, tracing the contours of muscle, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath my swim shorts.
"Better," she murmurs, leaning forward to press her lips to my collarbone.
The simple touch ignites something primal within me. My hands slide down her back to cup her ass, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she's doing to me. She gasps against my skin, her body arching into mine.
"I've been thinking about this all day," I confess, walking her backward until she's pressed between me and the stone edge of the pool. "About touching you. Tasting you."
I dip my head, capturing her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly blazes out of control. Her lips part beneath mine, inviting me deeper. I taste champagne and desire on her tongue as it meets mine, stroke for stroke.
My hands roam restlessly over her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, before sliding up to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her bikini. Her nipple hardens against my palm, and I swallow the soft moan that escapes her.
"Matteo," she moans as I trail kisses down her neck, nipping gently at the sensitive spot beneath her ear that I discovered during our first night together. My fingers finding the tie of her bikini top.
With a gentle tug, the knot comes undone. The fabric falls away, revealing her breasts to the warm Tuscan sun and my hungry gaze. I cup their weight in my palms, thumbs circling her nipples until they peak.
"Beautiful," I murmur, lowering my head to take one into my mouth.
Sasha's fingers tangle in my hair, holding me to her as I lavish attention on her breast. My tongue circles her nipple before drawing it into my mouth, alternating between gentle suction and the light graze of teeth that I've learned drives her wild.
Her head falls back, a moan escaping her lips as I move to her other breast, giving it the same thorough attention.
My hands slide down her sides to her hips, fingers hooking into the thin strings of her bikini bottoms. I look up, seeking permission in her eyes. The desire I see there matches my own.
"Please," she breathes, and it's all the encouragement I need.
I untie the strings at each hip, letting the scrap of fabric fall to the stone deck. She stands before me completely naked now, golden in the afternoon sunlight, and I drop to my knees to worship her properly.
My hands cup the backs of her thighs as I press open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, moving lower with deliberate slowness.
I can smell her arousal, see the evidence of it glistening on her inner thighs.
When I finally reach her inner thighs, I look up to find her watching me, lips parted, chest heaving with anticipation.
"Hold onto me," I instruct, guiding one of her legs over my shoulder to open her to me.
The first stroke of my tongue draws a cry from her lips, her hands flying to my hair to steady herself. I savor her taste, my tongue circling her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance, gathering her wetness before returning to the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Matteo," she gasps, her hips moving against my mouth. "Oh God..."
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her tremble. The combination of my fingers and tongue quickly brings her to the edge. I can feel it in the tightening of her thighs around my head, the increasing urgency of her movements.
"Let go," I murmur against her. "I've got you."
Her release washes over her with a force that leaves her shaking. Her inner walls pulse around my fingers as she cries out my name, the sound echoing across the terrace. I continue licking, gentler now, easing her through the aftershocks until she tugs at my hair, signaling she's too sensitive.
I rise to my feet, catching her as her knees threaten to buckle. Her eyes are dazed, her smile relaxed as she leans against me. I take her hand and guide her into the pool.