Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Matteo grips the back of my head, burying his fingers in my hair as his body tenses and he starts to come. I hold him in my mouth and take everything he gives me, loving the way I can make him lose control.
Afterward, Matteo pulls me up next to him on the bed and gives me a kiss filled with wonder and gratitude. “That was so good, Dani. So good, and yet never enough.” He kisses me again. “I want to spend the night with you, and wake up next to you in the morning.”
My mind quickly processes this idea, loving the sound of it, and wanting it with all my heart – before I factor in the risks.
I’m hesitant and apologetic as I respond. “I don’t think we should, Matteo. I don’t want your family to find out, and I want to be respectful to them while I’m in their house.”
That’s part of my reasoning, but I also don’t want to be unfair to Fiero, and – most of all – I don’t think I could sleep with him, really sleep with him, his body against me all night, without feeling like he’s mine, without desperately wanting him to be mine forever.
We’re already spending the week together, but I need to keep some amount of distance where I can, or my heart won’t survive this trip in one piece.
His Muse
I do eventually nap, and, thanks also to the shower I take afterward, I feel amazingly refreshed, and ready for the rest of the week’s activities. It’s late afternoon and the house is otherwise quiet when I find Matteo and Giovanni sitting at the kitchen table.
“How did you sleep?” Matteo has a special, knowing grin and a sparkle in his eye.
“Very well,” I reply primly, not wanting to raise his brother’s suspicions. “Thank you.”
“We didn’t want to wake you for lunch,” Giovanni says, getting up from his chair. “I’ll heat food for you.”
“That would be wonderful, but just something small. I don’t want to ruin my appetite for dinner.”
“Don’t worry. We Italians eat dinner very late,” Matteo says. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water, please. Still?” In the few meals I’ve had so far, I’ve learned that sparkling mineral water is the norm, and it seems to be an acquired taste.
Matteo hands me a bottle of still water from the refrigerator. “Let’s sit on the terrace.” He leads me down a short hall to part of the house I hadn’t seen yet, and out a door onto a large terrace.
There’s a family dining table to one side, comfortable chairs and small tables on the other, but my eye is quickly drawn to the sparkling blue sea, which stretches across the horizon. Bright magenta bougainvillea frames one side of the terrace. On the other, there is a broad view of distant hillsides dotted with houses and villages.
I think I could stay out here forever and not get tired of the scenery.
We settle into chairs and Giovanni appears moments later with a plate of roasted vegetables and chicken breast. I catch the fragrance of rosemary and remember all of the delicious meals Fiero has prepared for me.
“Did you make this?” Even though everyone has been speaking English to me, I ask my question in Italian, both to be a considerate visitor, and also wanting to put my education to use.
Giovanni answers in English. “Yes, this is from our lunch today.”
“It looks wonderful.”
He sits on the other side of me, and both men are quiet for a while, letting me eat. With the first delicious bite I take, my stomach lets me know how hungry it actually is. The sun sinks lower in the sky, starting to cast a golden glow on the water.
“I’m going to have a shower.” Matteo takes my empty plate when I’m finished. “Would you like anything else before I go, Dani?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” I smile up at him, imagining his naked body under the spray of water, and wishing I could join him.
After Matteo goes inside, Giovanni says, “Matteo tells me you’re a student at his university?”
“Yes, I’ll graduate this spring.”
“And then what will you do?”
“I’ll be moving back home, to the town where I grew up.”
“What’s it like there?” Every time I look at Giovanni, his full focus is on me, friendly, but with a vibe that seems to go beyond friendly interest. Maybe he’s like this with everyone, though.
“It’s nice.” These words come automatically, my default response about my home town, but now I’m picturing it, and it seems impossibly plain compared to my current surroundings.
“You won’t miss the city?”
“No, the city’s not for me. It’s been fun, but it’s not where I belong. Did you like it when you visited?”
His slow grin is so beautiful that I have to look away for a moment. “It also is not for me. I enjoyed visiting, but this is my home.”