I frown. “On what?”
He licks his lips. “What you’re willing to give me in exchange.”
I raise my eyebrows as my heart skips a beat. “You’re kidding, right?”
He leans forward until his lips are close to my mouth. Until his sweet breath that smells like wine and cigarettes kisses my lips. “Not when it comes to you.”
At that exact moment, we both hear a woman say, “Bonsoir, Sébastien.”
I take a step back, shivering as Sébastien focuses his attention on the neighbor. “Bonsoir, Marion. Vous passez une bonne soirée?”
As the woman replies to Sébastien, he places his hand on the small of my back, the contact electrifying, and pulls me toward him. “Come with me,” he whispers in my ear.
He addresses his neighbor once again, saying something that makes her laugh as he guides us both inside his apartment.
“Better wait in here or she’ll be inviting herself for a nightcap,” he adds as an explanation, smirking. When he leans forward, I think he’s going to touch me. I suck in my breath and shrink back. Instead, he reaches for the handle and closes the door behind me not once coming into contact with me. “Don’t be afraid of me, Valentina,” he whispers huskily close to my ear, sending a shiver running down my spine.
I cross my arms, pulling the cardigan tighter about me. “I’m not.”
The infuriating man smirks knowingly in return. I run a hand through my hair, thinking of a different topic, when I spot a painting hanging over his fireplace. “I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for your gift, so thank you. Why didn’t you tell me it was you who painted it?”
“Didn’t think it was important. Besides, now you know,” he adds dismissively.
I disagree with him, but I drop the subject, an instinct telling me that he doesn’t want to talk about it. With nothing else to discuss my mind yells at me to get out of here and go back to the safety of my apartment, but his warning about the neighbor stops me in my tracks. Seems like I’m stuck for the time being.
As a distraction, I stare nervously at everything but the man standing in front of me. His walls full of paintings. A welcoming living room. The kitchen to the left. The leather jacket that I recognize from yesterday thrown carelessly over the couch. The place looks warm, inviting, and lived in. It’s all for nothing, though. A losing battle. Because every atom in my body is aware of him, attuned to him. I know when he rubs his face with his hands. I can smell the cigarette he just smoked. I can almost feel the sigh escaping his lips against my skin.
Meanwhile, time is taking its sweet slow ass time. Seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like hours. When I’ve had enough, I break the silence. Well, technically speaking, both of us do. At the same time. Figures. Why not make this more uncomfortable than it already is.
“Would you like to—”
“I better—”
I bite my lip, fighting a smile from escaping. “You go first.”
“No, you go ahead. What were you going to say?”
“I better go. It’s getting late. Your turn. What were you going to say?”
A rueful smile touches his lips. “Nothing of importance. I’ll take care of the music.”
Music? What music? “Thank you.” I reach for the handle and open the door, suddenly feeling like a deflating balloon because he didn’t … Didn’t what? Ask me to stay? I shake my head. Sleep. Yes, that’s what I need. Stepping out, I glance over my shoulder. “Good night.”
“My offer still stands, by the way.”
I stop walking and turn around to face him once more. “What offer?” I frown.
“That little problem about your sleep,” he says, grinning wide like a little boy in a toy store.
“Good night, Sébastien.” I roll my eyes, which makes him laugh. “Also, put a shirt on, won’t you?”
A chuckle rumbles out. “Bonne nuit, Valentina.”
On my way back to the apartment, I lift a hand to trace my lips and realize that I’m smiling.
WILLIAM IS ON TOP of me as we make out on my bed, the room in complete darkness. I can’t see his face, but I can taste his saliva as his tongue wars with mine. His body melting with mine.
In the stillness of the night, my heart beats only for him and for the pleasure he brings me with his generous touch. Our heavy breathing and the rustling of our clothes break the silence surrounding us. His large frame weighs me down, holding me hostage to the sweet manipulation of my body, and I don’t care. I love it all: the pressure, the hardness, the contact, the burn from within, and the yearning for more. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to tear aching moans from my chest as he laughs in my ear.
His lips are sucking on my neck as he dips his hand inside my underwear, spreading me open, his fingers rubbing me awake. His invasion grows faster, harder, yet it’s not enough. I begin to fuck myself against his fingers now deep inside me, grinding myself against them. Begging him with my body to never stop. I want him to ease the ache between my legs yet continue to torment me. The precision with which he strokes me and plays with my clit makes me lose control.
The roots of my hair are wet with sweat. My breasts in my hands, rubbing myself. The smell of sex around us. Trembling, my moans are getting louder and louder as he drives me closer to sweet oblivion. His mouth on mine, kissing me with such starvation it feels as though he’s sucking all the oxygen out of my lungs. His lips fuck me kiss by kiss as his hand fucks me thrust by thrust, rendering my mind and body useless. And all I can do, all I’m capable of, is to feel. Feel. Feel. Feel. Nothing but feel. Lust flows freely in my veins. Need making me spread my legs wider for him, wantonly offering myself to him. Welcoming him, begging him to take me. And he takes me so damn good. Open mouthed, our tongues tangle becoming one. I hold his wide shoulders slippery from sweat as he loses all restraint, finger fucking me to heaven. And then I come apart, my body shattering on the white sheets of our bed.
Seconds pass by as our breathing slows down. In the darkness, William’s features remain hidden, but I can feel his weight pressing me down.
I sigh contentedly. “Mmm …”
He laughs in my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck.
“Valentina …” he whispers roughly, but the voice doesn’t belong to William. It’s Sebastien’s voice that wakes me up from my dream, plunging me straight into reality.
Opening my eyes, I look around me, half fearing, half expecting to find Sébastien lying down on the bed next to me. Total silence and an empty room greet my eyes. Breathing heavily, shame spreads like black ink in my chest because for one moment, one weak second, before I woke up, I wished it were not a dream.