I paused, pencil hovering over paper, listening to what sounded like a helicopter. Who would be flying in this weather? After a moment, the sound faded, likely just a passing aircraft heading to the mainland.
With a shrug, I returned to my drafting, the rhythmic dripping from the leak becoming almost meditative as I worked.
Zeus suddenly stood, his ears perking up. He moved to the door, pacing back and forth with increasing agitation.
“Need to go out, boy?” I asked, setting my pencil down. His tail wagged in confirmation.
I sighed, bracing myself for the inevitable soaking I’d get opening the door in this downpour. Zeus’s whine grew more insistent.
“Alright, alright,” I said, crossing to the door. “But make it quick.”
I pulled the door open, expecting Zeus to bolt past me into the rain. Instead, he remained perfectly still, tail wagging furiously. Through the downpour, a familiar silhouette emerged.
“You need to stop running from me,” Santo said, wiping water from his eyes. He stepped into the cottage without waiting for an invitation.
I backed up instinctively. “I needed space to work.”
“Zeus!” Santo rubbed his dog’s ears. “Have you been taking care of Tia for me, boy?” His eyes rose to meet mine.
“You’re soaked through,” I said. “You should take that shirt off before you catch pneumonia.” I moved to a small closet and pulled out a worn but clean blanket.
He peeled the clinging fabric away from his skin, revealing the toned, tattooed chest I’d been trying not to think about. I thrust the blanket toward him, keeping my eyes on his face.
“Thanks,” he said, wrapping it around his shoulders. Water still dripped from his blonde curls, tracing paths down his neck and collarbone.
Santo glanced at the pot catching water from the ceiling, then at my scattered drafting materials. “I can see you’ve been busy.”
He moved to stand near the small wooden table. Neither of us spoke. The rain and occasional drip into the pot filled the silence.
“I’m sorry about what happened last night,” he finally said. “With Katalina.”
“Being called a whore in front of a room full of strangers proves we need clear boundaries. I’m your architect, Santo. Nothing more. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You can call yourself my architect all you want, but we both know that’s not the whole truth.” His voice deepened, the words settling low in my belly. “I won’t let Katalina’s jealousy push you away from me.”
“Your history with her is becoming my present problem. I want her out of my life.”
“Then let me deal with her.” His fingers grazed my hip. “She’s lashing out because she knows she’s lost me to you. And I’m not sorry about that.”
My heart thundered in my chest, drowning out even the storm. “What do you want from me?” I asked, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel.
“Everything,” he said simply. “I want everything.”
Santo pulled me towards him, his lips crashing against mine. I didn’t hold back, my tongue moving against his.
He backed me up against the table, his hands roaming over my body, setting my body aflame. I could feel his hard length pressing against me, and I moaned, my body aching with need.
His lips trailed down to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, drawing out a soft gasp from deep within me. He attempted to lift me and knew I needed to stop the madness.
“Wait,” I said. “I’m too big for you to carry.”
“Look at me,” he said and waited until our eyes met again. “I race cars at three hundred kilometers per hour. I train six days a week. I can deadlift twice your weight without breaking a sweat.” A hint of his usual cockiness returned as he added, “Trust me, I can handle all of your curves.”
To prove his point, he lifted me in one fluid motion. The ease with which he held me made something loosen in my chest.
“See?” he murmured against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. “Perfect.”
I wrapped my arms around Santo’s neck as he carried me across the small cottage to the twin bed in the corner. He laid me down, his body covering mine as he continued to kiss and caress me.
