Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The reluctant smile that spread across his face was beautiful. It called to my own and, just like that, the air around us changed. With the mood lightened, I took the opportunity to cover his hand with my own and squeeze. “I want to come home.”
He fingers tightened around mine. He ran his thumb across my knuckles and the action was a harsh contrast to the hard word he responded with. “No.”
Looking at his handsome face, at those lips that kissed me stupid, it was easy to forget that this man was dangerous. I knew better than to push. I had to pick my battles.
My face fell and I let out a hushed, “When can I?”
His, “When you’ve done your time,” was cold and detached. I tried not to make it obvious how much it hurt as I attempted to pull away from him, but a swift yank of my arm had me up and draped across his lap and then, he had my face in his hands. He forced me to look at him. His eyes softened some when he said, “You just keep behaving yourself. Keep being my good girl, okay?”
I couldn’t hide my sadness when I nodded lightly. He kissed me warmly and, with little resistance, I fell into him.
When he left later that night, I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out.
Days passed. I mourned his leaving, but soon, I fell back into my routine. I did as he asked and played the role of good girl during the day, while at night, I misbehaved in my bed, calling out his name in the hopes it would bring him back to me.
I lost count of the days. I fantasized about my husband often. Those fantasies turned into dreams and sometimes, I could feel him. Sometimes it was as though he was really there. And tonight, I was having the most wonderful dream. It was late when Ettore entered the room. He undressed and lifted the sheets. The cool breeze over my nude body had me breaking out into goosebumps as he slid in behind me. My nipples beaded as his warm hands snaked around me, coming to rest on my belly. And when I began to move against the hard line of his erection, he lowered his mouth and pressed soft kisses to my shoulder and neck. I tilted my hips back and moaned quietly. The arm around my middle tightened as he touched me there, the pads of his fingers testing my readiness.
“Wake up, Tori.”
“No,” I groaned.
Why would I want to wake from such a wonderful dream?
Feeling as I did right then, I never wanted to wake again. But when the head of his cock breached my tight, wet hole, I woke with a start. I tried to twist back to look at him, but he held me still with a firm arm around me then he kissed the place just under my ear and said, “It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here, baby.” Another soft kiss. “Just let me take care of you.”
My body relaxed against him and my fingers curled into the sheets as he pressed into me, all the way, without pause.
It was a night of slow, indulgent sex. Conscious sex. This wasn’t two people using each other to get off. It was a building of something bigger. Admiration. Adoration. Call it what you will. But his being here was important. Together, we were rebuilding.
Ever the gentleman, he made sure I came before he released inside of me. I felt his heart beating fast against my back and I was sure, he felt mine when he pressed his lips to my pulse. Quiet and still, we stole from each other, sucking in one another’s warmth. We each needed it to feed our souls.
Our fingers entwined and I simply had to say it. “I want to come home.”
His delayed response wasn’t as harsh as it had been the time before, but his drowsy sounding, “Not yet,” still stung.
Okay. Not yet was a step up from no, albeit a small one.
I had to count my wins where I could. It was still progress and I had nothing but time.
Lucky for me, I had the patience of a saint.
Weeks had passed and Ettore’s visits had become more frequent. Every time he surprised me, I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of my face. That smile often transferred through our eager kisses. Yes, we always ended up naked, our bodies entwined, but it wasn’t all just sex. It was actually quite normal, in a sense, and far less hectic than it had been. He brought me flowers, and Italian sweets, and sometimes, he cooked for me. As our time together was limited, we always kept our conversations light in an attempt to veer away from the heaviness of our past. We opened a bottle of wine and sat on the floor, in the dark, bathed in moonlight. We talked about menial topics. Our likes and dislikes.