He watched me as I watched myself. He slammed me again. I didn’t know whom I was seeing, but she didn’t seem like me. Eyes hooded to almost closed, black lashes fanning against bright, flushed skin, diamonds and emeralds glittering around her neck, like a collar fit for the world’s most exotic creature. Her lips were plump and swollen, her hair a mess and sticking to her skin from sweat.
A wild creature I didn’t recognize. If she made faces or looked less than perfect, it didn’t seem to matter—not to him and not to her.
I wanted it again. He sensed it.
“Ancora,” he hissed out. His hands came to my breasts, kneading and twisting, and I realized that the necklace slapped against my chest as the earrings swung in reaction to our tempo.
He hit the same spot again and again, until I joined his rhythm and the music around us came from our mouths and from the joining of our bodies to that highest, northern point.
I was ready, and he wasn’t willing to wait another second. It happened at once, him pouring into me and me shuddering into him. He didn’t stop moving even after his release, and it happened again to me a second later. It made my entire body jerk and shudder, the cry coming from my mouth almost embarrassing. I fell forward in a rush, resting my head against his pounding heart. My physical reaction echoed his internal one.
After an unaccountable amount of time had melted, and our breathing had returned to normal, he took my head in his hands and kissed my forehead.
“I’m dizzy,” I said.
We both laughed into each other. Quiet, shaking laughs. Then we became quiet, the music from the suite invading our private world.
“What are you thinking?” I whispered.
“At this moment?”
“Do you remember any other moments? Or do you know what you’ll be thinking in, oh, say, an hour from now?”
“I remember other moments. But no, seeing into the future isn’t my forte. Though, going to jail again, or getting stabbed, or even shot at, is definitely in the plan.”
I pinched him and he grinned. “I’m being serious, Brando Piero Fausti.”
“Three names.” He sighed. “Other than switching positions, I was thinking about what I should’ve said before we left for the party.” He said no more and I sat up, looking down at him.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
He put his palm to my cheek, and I rested against his strength. “I’m not good enough for you—” he held a hand up, stopping me before I could speak “—but there’s no one good enough for you, Scarlett Fausti. Better that I have you. I love you more than my own life. I was going to wait to tell you that, when you were asleep, but the words came out on their own.”
“Slippery.” I smiled, blinking back tears.
“Yeah, baby,scivoloso. For once.”
* * *
We had been up most of the night, trapped in the haze of lovemaking and our own private world. Just before dawn, Brando walked his naked body into the other room, while I admired the view, and brought back the chocolate-covered strawberries he had ordered.
They were a favorite of mine. In Paris he would bring them to me sometimes after rehearsals. We’d snack as he walked me home or we rode our bikes side by side.
He plopped down in the bed, making the blankets puff up. Then he set the strawberries between us. I went to grab one and he used his pointer finger to move my finger away.
“I’ll feed you.”
I opened my mouth and he grinned.
“Always so eager, Ballerina Girl.” My mouth closed over half of the strawberry, the chocolate long melted and soft enough to mesh with the ripened fruit. I took the other half and his finger. He tried to pull away, but I refused to let him.
“I’d eatyouif I could,” I said after I did.
“No doubt,” he said, and then licked the finger that had been in my trap. “I love eating you. The best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
After all of this time, he still made me burn. My cheeks rushed with blood, and I grinned. This time I picked one up and fed him. “Do you feel like a Roman god when I feed you?”
“I feel like a god anytime you touch me—feeding me in bed is a fucking bonus.”
