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Authors: Melinda De Ross
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yawning. “Give me the address.”
“No way. How else can I have the pleasure of taking you home after dinner and tucking you into bed early?” he said insinuatingly, turning her brain to mush. “Be ready at half past six, okay?”
He hung up before she could argue any further.
She stretched languorously, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Why should she be nervous? Giovanni was a grown man—oh my, in more ways than one—and he could see any woman he chose. He would be gone soon after his sister’s wedding anyway. This thought brought an undefined and unexplainable wave of pain and grief in her heart.
Their relationship had escalated so fast, so strong, so tumultuously that she hadn’t wanted to think of the consequences. She didn’t want to do it now either. Even if her heart would shatter when he would leave, she didn’t regret a single moment spent with him. He had taught her what a real man was like. He’d showed her what kind of a woman she was and had given her the passion she’d yearned for all her life. Yes, he was all she had ever dreamed of, not only in bed, but also outside of it. He was fun, intelligent, successful, tender and caring, attentive and hot-blooded—all in one fabulous looking package. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with him?
She was just getting out of bed when this thought struck her and she bit her tongue hard, involuntarily.
She swore lavishly, groping for a robe. She wasn’t in love with him, damn it! Maybe in lust , but not in love . There was a huge difference. And she simply couldn’t be in love with a man who would leave in a few weeks and whom she would never see again.
“Gosh, would you stop this bloody female whining?” she snapped to the bathroom mirror. “He probably won’t give you a second thought when he leaves and you fancy yourself in love with him? Can you get more pathetic than this? Get freaking real!”
Yet somewhere deep inside, she knew she was being unfair. Maybe he wasn’t in love with her, but he cared about her. She wasn’t just a vacation sex toy. She wouldn’t have accepted that in a million years anyway.
“Don’t think about his leaving. Don’t think,” she whispered, supporting her forehead against the window, watching the grayish-white landscape outside.
She breathed deeply and started doing her makeup. She wasn’t going to start stitching her heart before she’d have to.
When Giovanni arrived a little after six, she was waiting for him downstairs in the building’s lobby. She’d put on black tight jeans, a black sweater and black boots. Since she wouldn’t do much walking in the cold, she had taken her long leather coat. She suspected Linda Coriola expected to see a badass, tough-looking bitch and she didn’t want to disappoint her.
Giovanni parked just in front of her building and stretched out a hand across the passenger seat to open the door for her. When she climbed into his car, he bent to kiss her lips, making a pleasant rush warm her entire body. She smiled at him, trying to seem cheerful, hoping he won’t sense anything wrong.
“So, your sister wants to meet the woman you’re currently nailing?” she joked, as he started the car.
He turned his head to her quickly and his eyes darted her with such a hard glare she was stunned.
“You know you’re more than that, Sonia. At least, for me, what we did was more than just fucking.”
Speechless and disconcerted, she looked at his rigid profile, noticing his clenched jaw. After a tense silence, she said awkwardly, “It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m sorry.”
His fingers relaxed a bit on the steering wheel, but his posture was still strained. She decided it wasn’t the time to start a discussion about the status of their relationship, so she said instead, “Tell me something about your sister. I want to be able to make conversation without giving away the fact I don’t know shit about art.”
His lips
“No way. How else can I have the pleasure of taking you home after dinner and tucking you into bed early?” he said insinuatingly, turning her brain to mush. “Be ready at half past six, okay?”
He hung up before she could argue any further.
She stretched languorously, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Why should she be nervous? Giovanni was a grown man—oh my, in more ways than one—and he could see any woman he chose. He would be gone soon after his sister’s wedding anyway. This thought brought an undefined and unexplainable wave of pain and grief in her heart.
Their relationship had escalated so fast, so strong, so tumultuously that she hadn’t wanted to think of the consequences. She didn’t want to do it now either. Even if her heart would shatter when he would leave, she didn’t regret a single moment spent with him. He had taught her what a real man was like. He’d showed her what kind of a woman she was and had given her the passion she’d yearned for all her life. Yes, he was all she had ever dreamed of, not only in bed, but also outside of it. He was fun, intelligent, successful, tender and caring, attentive and hot-blooded—all in one fabulous looking package. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with him?
She was just getting out of bed when this thought struck her and she bit her tongue hard, involuntarily.
She swore lavishly, groping for a robe. She wasn’t in love with him, damn it! Maybe in lust , but not in love . There was a huge difference. And she simply couldn’t be in love with a man who would leave in a few weeks and whom she would never see again.
“Gosh, would you stop this bloody female whining?” she snapped to the bathroom mirror. “He probably won’t give you a second thought when he leaves and you fancy yourself in love with him? Can you get more pathetic than this? Get freaking real!”
Yet somewhere deep inside, she knew she was being unfair. Maybe he wasn’t in love with her, but he cared about her. She wasn’t just a vacation sex toy. She wouldn’t have accepted that in a million years anyway.
“Don’t think about his leaving. Don’t think,” she whispered, supporting her forehead against the window, watching the grayish-white landscape outside.
She breathed deeply and started doing her makeup. She wasn’t going to start stitching her heart before she’d have to.
When Giovanni arrived a little after six, she was waiting for him downstairs in the building’s lobby. She’d put on black tight jeans, a black sweater and black boots. Since she wouldn’t do much walking in the cold, she had taken her long leather coat. She suspected Linda Coriola expected to see a badass, tough-looking bitch and she didn’t want to disappoint her.
Giovanni parked just in front of her building and stretched out a hand across the passenger seat to open the door for her. When she climbed into his car, he bent to kiss her lips, making a pleasant rush warm her entire body. She smiled at him, trying to seem cheerful, hoping he won’t sense anything wrong.
“So, your sister wants to meet the woman you’re currently nailing?” she joked, as he started the car.
He turned his head to her quickly and his eyes darted her with such a hard glare she was stunned.
“You know you’re more than that, Sonia. At least, for me, what we did was more than just fucking.”
Speechless and disconcerted, she looked at his rigid profile, noticing his clenched jaw. After a tense silence, she said awkwardly, “It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m sorry.”
His fingers relaxed a bit on the steering wheel, but his posture was still strained. She decided it wasn’t the time to start a discussion about the status of their relationship, so she said instead, “Tell me something about your sister. I want to be able to make conversation without giving away the fact I don’t know shit about art.”
His lips
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