She swallows hard. “I mean… Everything I want to do with you… It’s overwhelming. I want to ride you. I want to suck you. You’re so freaking beautiful and sexy, and we hardly even know each other. Is this stupid fast? Or just like two people scratching an itch?”
I shrug one shoulder.
The words die in my throat as I feel her lips close over my shaft. And I’m suddenly not soft anymore.
12
CHLOE
Two WeeksLater
Franco is snoring lightlybehind me. His body is entangled with mine. One arm is thrown over my naked torso, and our calves and thighs are knitted together in a leg-lock.
This feels so normal. So right.
Being with him like this is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He feels like my person now. This feels like falling in love.
Every morning, I wake up convinced that last night was thelastnight. But mornings keep turning into nights, day after day, and here I am. Still sleeping in his bed. Still naked. And yet still feeling the pressure of time passing.
My tummy flips over, knowing it’s time for this fairy tale to come to an end. I have to return to my apartment, pay my rent, and go back to my own life.
I slide out from underneath him, carefully moving his limbs off me so I don’t wake him. I need coffee. I need to spend some time thinking about the future. For us. For me. For the bookstore…for everything.
I sigh deeply as I’m making us coffee.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking into the kitchen as he scratches at his chest.
“Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes rake over me. “Nothing?” he repeats, sliding an arm around my middle to pull me into a hug. “That sigh means something.”
I shrug a shoulder, not wanting to talk about the mix of emotions I’m feeling. I’ve already overstayed my welcome. One night turned into two, which then turned into a week, and here we are—two weeks later.
“Dinner at my parents’ tomorrow?” he asks. The question is casual, but his voice is not.
My heart catches in my chest, and I measure the grounds carefully because there is a slight shake in my hand. “I’d love to go,” I say. “But that would be the fourth weekend in a row. The first time your parents invited me and then the last two you brought me with you. Don’t you think your family might start to get ideas about…”
I trail off because there is no us. I mean, of course there isn’t. But now could be the right time to ask.
“What do you think?” I click on the coffee to brew and join him at the table.
“I think my ma is onto us. She suspects at least.” He rubs his forehead just as there’s a knock at the door. A loud one. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I’m dressed in one of Franco’s tank tops, no bra, and wearing just my underwear on bottom. He’s shirtless and in his pajama pants.
“There’s only one person who pops by at this hour. You think my ma’s going to believe we just had a sleepover?”
I frantically look toward the door. If he didn’t seem so unnerved by this, I wouldn’t be either. But he’s giving off very strong vibes.
He’s most definitely not ready for there to be an “us.”
I leap up and reassure him. “I’ll go get dressed.”
Before he says anything, I bound upstairs. I hear the door unlock, and Lucia’s voice carries through the house.
“Ma, I already told you. I’m renting. I don’t even know if the landlord would allow it.”
I quickly make Franco’s bed and scan the bedroom for any signs of sex. A wave of deep sadness fills my chest as I realize what I’m up here doing. I’m hiding.
