The sound of footsteps on the stairs almost made me growl—something inside of me didn’t like another man being this close to her when she was so exposed, her breasts out, me still inside of her.
Romeo. He hummed along to the song coming from the street. Then he started to sing parts of it.
Scarlett started to shake, and at first I thought it was from the cold, or that she was crying again. She was laughing.
“Oh God,” she whispered. She sang the same part of the song he sang in an Italian accent—copying him.
“Quiet,” I said, fighting the urge to laugh with her. If I started, he’d hear and come to investigate. “Or I’ll have to break my little brother’s heart by getting violent with his hair.”
Laughter so hard that it sounded close to wheezing came from her mouth. She was attempting to keep it concealed.
Noises came from the kitchen; Romeo was looking for something cold to drink in the refrigerator. A few seconds later it shut, and then footsteps started toward us again.
Scarlett was turning crimson from keeping her laughter in, her breasts rubbing against me, bouncing, almost hypnotizing me. What she was keeping in was coming out in body language.
The stairs creaked with his footsteps, but then stopped. I put a finger to my mouth to signal that he was creeping—he must’ve felt our presence.
“Ciao?” he called. “Chi è là? Parla adesso?”Hello? Who’s there? Speak now.
I had to clasp a hand to her mouth to keep the explosion bottled up. I could feel her teeth against my palm, and tears were streaming from the sides of her eyes.
After no reaction from us, he moved but then stopped. I shook my head at her—he’s trying to make us think he made it to his room.
As soon as I was certain that he’d gone, I released my hand from her mouth. Nothing had changed; her humor had grown. Her entire body shook with laughter, and I was hard again from being inside of her—she clenched around me and my breath caught. Her breasts jiggled, sliding against my bare chest even harder.
Where the fuck was my shirt so I could cover her with it?
“Hold on to me,” I said, “and press closer.” Her dress—I wasn’t even sure what I had done, but it hung to her waist, nothing covering her top. “We need to get upstairs before Romeo decides to make another drink run. Or calls Donato to do a search.”
She threw her head back and laughed all the way up the stairs.
Romeo’s door opened and he peeked his head out. “Fratello?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”
“Romeo?” Juliette called, her voice not full of sleep, but softer than usual.
“Dormire?” He laughed, raspy and low. His door shut without a sound.
The windows in our room were fogged from the heat outside and the cold air inside. Condensation ran down the panes, rivulets rushing along the glass. The rain wasn’t hard enough to do much more. It was still a fine mist. It seemed to intensify the scents lingering in the room—antiques and wet stone, mostly.
I set Scarlett on the bed, keeping us together, and she arched against me, hips coming up to meet mine. I refused to move, to give in to her demands.
“I won’t be rough again,” I said. “I mean it, Scarlett.”
“Lento e lungo?” she whispered. Slow and long?
“Tutta la notte,” I vowed to her.All night.
I was true to my word, and she fell asleep, her body tangled with mine, not long before light touched the sky, steam rising from the streets as the hot rays of the new sun blazed. I untangled our limbs, sitting on the edge of the bed. I ran a hand over my face, through my hair, and stood to stretch.
No one moved inside of the house; the night was long, filled with too much drink, food, and dancing, and everyone had adapted to the schedule of nocturnal beasts. I had only gotten up because the urge to piss was strong and couldn’t be ignored.
A wave of dizziness overtook me for a few seconds. I had to shut my eyes against vertigo. Once equilibrium was restored, I thought of climbing back in the bed, but I didn’t want to disturb Scarlett.
She stirred in her sleep and called out for me, like she could read my mind.
“I’m here, baby,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”
