Chapter 38
COSIMO
The rest of dinner moved into lighter territory.
The wine flowed freely, the food was excellent, and by the time Fabiana had eaten the last bite of dessert, we’d been in the osteria for nearly three hours.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat down for a dinner like that with a woman. Maybe never. Even before I stopped entertaining women altogether, I’d never met someone I could talk to for hours without running out of things to say.
Once I decided to lower my guard with Fabiana, it was shockingly easy.
I listened while she told me about her years at boarding school. The friendships she’d made there. The projects in Geneva that had challenged her. The trips around Europe that had made an impression.
And she listened too. She asked questions that dug up old memories I hadn’t revisited in eons—winter holidays in Italy with my brothers, summer afternoons spent playing soccer when school was out, my first job at one of Dad’s old construction companies…
They were the things I didn’t tell anyone. Pieces of myself that I kept hidden away because that had always felt safest.
She’d told me she always felt safe with me. Just remembering that sent warmth running through my chest.
Tonight, I felt safe with her too. The alarms that always rang inside my head whenever I considered letting her in hadn’t disappeared, but they were quiet for now.
I wished I knew how long that would last.
The waiter brought the check.
“My God.” Fabiana glanced at the time. “It’s past eleven. We need to get back. We still have to go over our plan for tomorrow.”
I nodded as I signed the bill, but my mind wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. It was thinking of the romantic hotel room, the small bed that would put her within easy reach, and the permission that I’d given myself to treat tonight like this was real.
Despite talking all evening, we didn’t stop on the walk back to the hotel.
“I think my favorite trip was to Seville,” she said, her hand linked with mine. We strolled back to the hotel down a nearly empty street, and I kept glancing over at the relaxed smile on her face. “The food was just incredible. I love Spain.”
“I do too,” I said. “The architecture in Barcelona is one of a kind.”
“You know, I’ve never been to Barcelona. Not sure how I missed it. I’d love to go one day.”
I almost said I’d take her there for her birthday, then I remembered her birthday was in July.
Our marriage would be over by then.
Funny how the timeline that had given me comfort at one point now filled me with nauseating unease.
There would be fallout when I got the marriage annulled.
And really, what did she want that I couldn’t offer her?
If she wanted to make pottery, that was fine by me.
If she wanted to take some classes in college, I’d make it work.
She’d have some of that freedom she’d been dreaming about, and I’d get a woman by my side that I knew I could trust.
But there was one thing I couldn’t give her.
Love.
Love made even the strongest men weak. Men like my father.
She hadn’t said she wanted it, but I knew. She was the kind of person who wanted things like that, and I was the kind of guy who thought of it as the ultimate mistake.
And what the fuck is it that you feel for her now?
I cracked my neck. Obsession. Attraction. Want.
Not love. That couldn’t be it.
Our conversation stalled when we reached the hotel.
I unlocked the front door with the key the receptionist told us to use after hours, and the click of the lock cut through the silence that had stretched taut between us.
Fabiana’s hand was slightly clammy in mine as I led her up the stairs to our room. Was she nervous?
Our room seemed even smaller now.
I shut the door and placed the painting we’d bought at the festival on the coffee table.
Fabiana took my coat off her shoulders, hung her purse over the back of a chair, and let out a low breath before turning to me. “Should we go over our route tomorrow?”
My gaze dripped down her body, over the curves wrapped in a cream-colored sweater and a simple pair of jeans. She wasn’t trying to be sexy, but she was still the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
The wine, the conversation, and the fantasy of this being real had worn down my restraint.
I wanted her.
And I would have her.
“I can explain my rationale for which ceramic workshops I think will be the best ones for us to visit,” she said.
I walked toward her.
“They’re all located close to each other so—”
I backed her against the wall.
She stopped talking.
“I’m listening,” I said as I slid my hand under the hem of her sweater. My palm moved over her waist and settled on her back. Her skin was smooth and supple, and I was addicted to the feel of it.
She tipped her head back against the wall, her lips slightly parted as she looked at me. “I—um, the first one is—”
I dipped my head and pressed my mouth to the side of her throat. Her scent was strongest here—lavender and lemons. My tongue darted out, licking at her heated flesh and making her squirm.
“Cosimo, I can’t talk to you like this.” Her voice had gone breathy.
I ran my thumb over a shallow dimple on her lower back. “What’s the problem?”
She gasped softly as I bit down on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “You’re distracting.”
“Now you know how I feel whenever you’re in my proximity,” I murmured against her skin. “Utterly distracted.”
Her hips canted up to meet mine. “Fine,” she said in a trembling voice. “The first one is called Bottega Chindemi. They’re the oldest workshop in town, so I’m guessing they’ll know what everyone else in town is up to and who the Quaranta collectors might be.”
I ground against her while I nipped and sucked on her throat.
“Then there’s the workshop closest to the location of Quaranta’s old one, the one that burned down.”
My palm slid higher up her back, and I unhooked her bra.
“They must’ve known Quaranta we—”
I pulled her sweater off her, taking the bra with it, and tossed them onto the ground. She stood in front of me in just those jeans, and the sight of her like this made my cock swell.
I sank to my knees. “Keep talking.”
“I was saying that they must’ve known Quaranta well, and they should know what happened to his pieces in the aftermath of the fire.” Her fingers slid into my hair as I unbuttoned her jeans and dragged them down her thighs.
She wore a pair of skimpy black panties. I liked those. Maybe I should spare them from the fate the rest of her underwear met around me. I pulled them down gently with the jeans.
And then she was bare. I stood and walked back a few slow steps to admire her. Her eyes were dark with arousal, her nipples perky, and she had a light dusting of hair over her mound.
I dragged my thumb over my bottom lip, my cock straining against my jeans. “Get on the bed, spread your legs, and keep talking.”
She moved. Quickly. Eagerly.
I gave the glistening pussy she showed me a languid look before I slung one of her legs over my shoulder and dove in.
She got as far as telling me about the fourth workshop before her words turned into helpless moans I savored with my entire being.
My fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as I kept her tightly pressed against my face.
I couldn’t get enough of her taste, of her smell, of the sounds she made…
Christ. I lapped at her opening, circled her clit, and sucked on the swollen nub until she began to twitch beneath me, her thighs clamping around my head.
“Oh God,” she moaned, lifting her hips off the bed. “Oh my God.”
I pulled away and strummed her clit with my thumb. I wanted to watch her fall apart, and fuck, she fell apart so prettily.
Her back arched as her climax ran through her.
She tossed her head from side to side, curls scattering over the bedsheets as she rode her high.
I dipped two fingers into her opening, feeling her muscles clench and relax, and the thought of feeling her do that around my cock was nearly enough to undo me.
Her muscles had barely stopped spasming before she sat up and reached for me. She ripped at my clothes, pulled off my shirt, and pressed her lips to my chest. She kissed me like someone who deserved her tenderness, her sweetness, and I just couldn’t take it. She made my heart fucking ache.
“On your knees,” I said roughly.
Her eyelids fluttered, like she felt pleasure at the command alone. She was a vision of obedience as she slid off the bed, lowered herself to the floor between my feet, tilted her head back, and opened her mouth.
The image branded itself into my memory. I was so fucking turned on that my hand trembled slightly as I grabbed my cock and slid the tip over her bottom lip, back and forth. Her tongue darted out, wetting the underside and making a drop of precum leak out the slit.
Slowly, I fed it to her, watching every inch disappear inside her mouth. I groaned. “Christ, baby. You look gorgeous like this.”
Her doe eyes didn’t leave mine as she sucked me off. I watched them water as she took me deeper and deeper, and my balls tightened.
I reached over and cupped her cheek. “You gonna let me come down your throat?”
She smiled around me, and my orgasm rammed through me like a goddamn truck. I thrust into her mouth, spilling into her and gasping while my whole body shook.
We collapsed on top of the duvet and panted while staring at the ceiling. Seconds ticked by. Her curls tickled my shoulder, and her scent made me dizzy with the kind of want no amount of orgasms would sate.
I loved her body, but I wanted more than that. I wanted everything.
The thought was so unsettling that I sat up and decided it was better to stop thinking altogether.
I wasn’t done with her yet.
My fingertips explored every inch of her skin, while she watched me silently with hooded eyes. Within minutes, I was hard again, and she pushed me onto my back and slid onto my cock.
Guess she wasn’t done with me either.
“God, you feel good,” she moaned as she rode me. “So good.”
I watched her, mesmerized. And yet thoughts kept intruding. I’d told her I’d ruin other men for her, but in that moment, I knew I was the one being ruined. A sense of certainty coalesced inside my chest. There’d be no one else after her. No one.
She was it for me.
Not love, huh?
Something hot and desperate bloomed inside my chest. I grabbed her by the waist and flipped us over, driving into her tight, wet heat. My forehead touched hers as my thrusts turned punishing. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she moaned against my lips.
I savored hearing that word spill past her lips. Our mouths collided in a messy, inelegant kiss that carried no pretenses.
I could’ve told her then that I wanted to call off the deal. I could’ve told her that she had enslaved me.
But I couldn’t tell her that I loved her. Wouldn’t.
And so we stayed tightly tangled in each other until we both found our release.
Our breathing and hearts slowed. We lay there, my arm slung across her waist, her back pressed against my chest, only the hum of the wall heater disturbing the silence around us.
“Cosimo?” There was an inflection in her tone that kept me silent.
A beat passed. Two. I heard her swallow. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want that other husband anymore.”
The whispered words lingered in the air. My ribs felt like they had cracked right open, exposing my heart.
And still, I stayed silent. Pretended I was asleep.
After a while, she let out a low sigh, shifted against me, and tucked the pillow under her head.
I bit on the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood.
Fabiana was brave. But me?
I was a coward.