17
Tingles shoot through my body. I roll onto my back, open my heavy-lidded eyes, and stare into a pair of bright blue ones.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Aaron mutters back, dropping his face to mine. His lips sweep across mine softly but firmly, and he sinks his fingers deep into my hair.
“What time is it?”
“Six.” He drops kisses along my jaw and onto my neck.
“Early.”
“Mhmm.” He continues his downward journey with his mouth, pausing at my breasts. He cups one with his hand and runs his nose along the side of it. “Beautiful.”
The tingles turn to a simmering heat when he takes my nipple in his mouth and rolls his tongue around it. His teeth graze it and he sucks lightly, easing the sting, and moves to the other. I push my head back.
“Is this how you wake a girl up?”
“It’s how I wake you up.” He flips on top of me and his large erection presses against the lace at my core.
The simmer turns to a boil, blood pumping through my body at a lightning speed. Desire floods through me at the feel of his lips on my skin and his thumbs ghosting over my hardened nipples. My hips push into him, my body craving him and the inevitable release he’ll give.
“I forgot how impatient you are in the morning.” He licks a slow trail from my breastbone to my panty line, his tongue dipping into my belly button as he goes.
“I don’t like being… Oh, shit!”
I gasp at the fleeting touch of his tongue hitting my * through the lace.
“What were you saying?” His nose brushes along the inside of my thigh, and he bends my legs. He hooks his finger in the side of my panties and pauses before moving them. “Hm?”
“Saying? Who was saying anything?” I crook my neck and look down at him. Air fills my lungs at my long, needing breath. F*ck. Aaron Stone’s face between my legs is about the sexiest thing. F*cking ever.
“Good girl.”
He moves the lace and runs his tongue along my p-ssy in one long, caressing sweep. The sensations fly everywhere as he takes up a slow assault with his mouth. The deep, probing movements of his tongue and lips are akin to the way you’d give a leaving lover a final kiss. They’re long and slow and…
A moan echoes around the room. I shudder when he slips his tongue up me, and my muscles clench involuntarily. His muffled groan follows the moan I know came from me.
“You can’t do that, Dayton,” he says and closes his lips around my *. He sucks hard, pleasure filling my body. “It makes me think about being inside you too much.”
“Not a bad thing,” I breathe, closing my eyes.
“Soon.” He probes my thighs with his fingertips. “Look at me.”
I crane my neck up, my lids heavy from the constant flooding of pleasure. They drop, and Aaron pinches my ass.
“Keep your eyes open. I want to watch you come on my tongue.”
Oh, sweet f*ck. His words send my body into overdrive, and it isn’t long before he’s holding my hips down. I find his eyes after he snaps my name for a third time, and looking into them is like being held captive. I couldn’t fight it if I wanted to, but looking at him, I know I was wrong. There is something sexier than Aaron Stone’s face between my legs.
The sexiest thing in this f*cking world is his face between my legs while he explores me with his tongue.
I explode with that final thought, and he works me through it. He doesn’t pull his mouth from me until I’m done and my hips are still again.
He pulls my legs up, lifts me, and pushes us up the bed. My back rests against the headboard, and he holds me above him as he frees his cock from his boxers. He fills me in one swift movement, and I throw my head back at the sudden stretching of my channel.
My muscles wrap around him tightly, holding him inside me, easing with each gentle thrust of his hips. He fills me so completely and pushes me to the absolute limit of what I can take that bringing me to the edge is so easy. So quick.
And he’s so in tune with my body that when he feels me getting close, he distracts me with his mouth.
“Not yet,” he says into our kiss. “You’re not allowed.”
“Controlling bastard,” I gasp, my body trembling with the force of holding back.
He laughs and pushes deep into me. A string of swear words leaves my mouth, and I clamp down on his cock. F*ck if I can hold this back any longer.
“Dayton,” he grinds my name out, his thrusts gaining speed. “Hold it!”
“I can’t!” I yell. My head is rocking side to side and my whole body is locked in tension. I can’t hold it. Not anymore.
I meet his thrust with my p-ssy muscles as tight as I can make them and slam down onto him. He yells his release as my orgasm finally rockets through my body, my limbs trembling in a blissful rush. I feel him come inside me in hot spurts, and I feel his hands at my hips holding me to him.
“Jesus,” he breathes, burying his face into my neck. “Really couldn’t hold back, could you?”
I shake my head. “And I wasn’t going alone.”
His lips touch my skin. “No. You weren’t.”
He wraps his arms around my body, and I hook my feet together behind his back. He’s still hard inside me, and as I sigh into his hair, I’m struck by a barrage of overwhelming feelings.
Of fulfillment. Of happiness. Of belonging.
Of completeness.
“Shower,” Aaron orders, moving back and pulling me with him. He carries me into the bathroom as I’m laughing into his shoulder and gets in the shower before turning on the water. Ice-cold water sprays over us and I scream, squirming to get away from it.
His laugh washes over me the way the warming water does. “Just a little cold water, Day.”
“Put me down now,” I sigh, pressing my hands on his shoulders.
Aaron shakes his head and pushes me against the wall. “I’m not done with you yet.” He rocks his hips against me. His cock hardens immediately and hits that very tender spot with his next thrust.
“Again?” My fingers find his hair again and wind themselves in it.
“Oh, Dayton. If you think I’ll ever get enough of you, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“But we just—”
He silences me with a kiss as demanding as the thrusts of his cock inside me. “I love it when you come. I love the sounds you make and the way you feel. If I could spend all day playing with your body and making you come, I would. So now, when I have the chance to make it happen again, I’m going to.”
I cry out at a long, slow ease into me.
“I’m going to send you into a crazy f*cking oblivion every chance I get because I need you to know what you do to me. You take me over until there’s nothing left but you.” His grip on me tightens as his hips move faster, his gentle thrusts of earlier now hard pounds. “This is what you do to me, Dayton. You make me f*cking crazy.”
I pant at his frantic movements, my breath mingling with his, and stare into his eyes as I feel a third orgasm build inside. “Take me there.” I seal my lips over his. “To that crazy f*cking oblivion.”
He does. I fall apart in his arms yet again, his release seconds behind me, and collapse against him. After a minute of languid kisses he pulls out of me, leaving me with the same sense of emptiness that always accompanies that action.
We wash each other in the shower, something more intimate than I’m ready for but so right in this moment. He massages my head as he works in the shampoo and threads his fingers through my hair as he strokes conditioner through it.
He dries me with a towel and wraps me in a robe before leading me back to the bed. I pull the covers and smile sleepily at him.
“You really know how to wake a girl up.”
“So you’ve said.” Aaron smiles and rests his nose alongside mine.
“Yeah, I mean it this time.” I grin, brushing the backs of my fingers along his cheek. “Did you say it was six in the morning?”
“It was. Now it’s past seven, and I have to get ready. I have a meeting at eight.”
I accept his gentle kiss and nod. “When will you be back?”
“Not until late again. I’m sorry I’m leaving you to see the city alone.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. I actually enjoyed it yesterday, barring obvious things. I’m sure I can find something to do today—without any suggestions from the concierge.” I give him a pointed look.
He laughs and pulls on some pants. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I was going to decide when I woke up, but I was distracted by someone.”
“Oh, well. What about an art museum? I lost you in the Louvre more than once.”
He really does remember everything.
“Maybe. Where do you recommend?”
He raises his eyebrows.
“I thought we’d cut out the middle man. I know how you hate concierges, especially ones with nice butts.”
“Should I be offended you’re mentioning the concierge’s ass after f*cking me?”
“Passing comment.” I snuggle beneath the covers. “Well?”
“Pinacoteca di Brera. Call me when you want to go and I’ll have a car take you. It’s a few miles from here.” He stills before knotting his tie. “Concierge cut,” he adds on a mutter.
I grin. “You sounded like an Italian when you said that.”
“Said what? Pinacoteca di Brera?”
“Yep. Oh, wait. Let me guess—you speak Italian as well as French?”
He buttons his jacket and looks at me with sparkling eyes. “Si.”
“Of course you speak the two most romantic languages in the world.” I roll my eyes.
His deep laugh comforts me and he walks to the bed. He bends down, placing his lips near my ear. “A language is only romantic if you believe in romance itself,” he whispers. “And I do.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Forse il tuo forse non è sufficiente quando i tuoi occhi mi lasciano senza fiato e il tuo tocco mi fa sentire vivo. Non quando l’amore che abbiamo avuto è bollente sotto la superficie. Non quando sono così pronta a permettere al mio amore per te di consumare me ancora una volta.” He kisses my cheek and strolls from the room.
“What does that mean?”
“When you get there, I’ll tell you.”
The door closes on his words, and I close my eyes on a huff.
If I had enough energy to get up, I’d throw another mug at him.
I sit back on the plush sofa and prop my feet on the coffee table. The Pinacoteca di Brera art museum is a full day out for someone like me—someone who can meander casually through endless hallways of paintings for hours. Surrounded by both natives and tourists, I was lost in a sea of awed eyes and bored yawns.
The paintings should have taken me away. The crowds that walked the hallways with me, alive with hushed chatter, should have pulled me into the environment in its fullest, but they didn’t. The pictures didn’t give me a wondered escape from reality. All I could think of every time someone yawned was Aaron.
The way he used to grab my hand and fake one, begging to leave the Louvre. The way he used to grumble in my ear as I dragged him from room to room. The way he used to groan whenever I asked to go back.
And the way he always, always used to go with me, even though he hated it.
I’m lonely.
I’ll admit it. Being here with him but not having him around is harder than I thought it would be. This is what I wanted. I wanted to spend as little time with him as possible to protect my heart and keep my sanity intact. But now that I have it, I don’t want it.
I want him to sigh in my ear and mumble in a bored tone as I gaze longingly at a picture. I want him to wrap his fingers around mine and pull me through the gallery quickly. And I want him to stop my yelling at him by silencing me with a kiss.
I want everything I can’t have.
Everything that’s addictive and beautiful and inspiring. The things that make you wake with a laugh and fall asleep with a smile. The tender touches and knowing glances and inside jokes. I want the random skips of my heart and coiling of my stomach, and I want the butterflies whenever he walks in the room. I want to give myself over fully to the feelings I’m burying, the feelings I’m not ready or strong enough to take and accept.
I want to give in to the love simmering deep in my bones—the very same love that will consume me and possess me. The love that will lead me to obsess and be obsessed over. The love that never really went away, despite the distance between us.
I want to give in to the world-rocking, leg-trembling love that ignites as easily as our lust and flares as easily as our passion.
I wrap my arms around my legs and lean forward on my thighs, resting my chin on my knees. The city looks duller somehow with those thoughts. The spark has been taken out, and the hazy magic that astounded me when I first gazed out of these windows has cleared.
Milan is beautiful—it always will be—but when you’re in turmoil, the ugliness of it dulls that. It taints the refreshing feeling the city gives you.
I exhale slowly, a deep sigh full of confusion and the craziness in my mind. Night falls, and I lie back on the sofa, endlessly tracing the skyline with my eyes.
“Oh, Day.” He brushes a thumb across my cheek, pausing for a long moment before lifting me into his arms.
I curl into his body, gripping his shirt, and sigh. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” He lowers me onto the bed and carefully peels my dress from my languid body. I slide beneath the covers, my eyes still closed, and wait for him to join me.
The bed creaks as he does, and I reach for him instinctively. He pulls me into him and I rest my head on his shoulder, tilting my face into his neck.
“Good,” I whisper, fighting my yawn and cuddling in. “I missed you.”
He kisses my forehead and tightens his grip on me. “Not half as much as I missed you. Tu me manques.”