No answer came.
I knocked again. And again.
After the last knock, I took a deep breath and tried the handle. It opened and I stepped inside. A blast of steam clung to me like a long-lost lover as soon as I was in. It coated me from head to toe, and almost immediately, my hair stuck to my skin. Droplets of water and sweat started to run down my neck.
It was fucking hot in here. I guessed the devil was more at home in the heat.
“Hello?” I called out, looking around.
After some smoke had cleared, all that stood in the room were the things that were supposed to be there. Like the shower that had its own room to the left, the tub in the center, and the closet/sitting area to the right.
No answer. I seemed to be alone.
Moving further in, I took careful steps. I ran my hand along the rim of the tub, as warm as the water inside of it. The fragrant smell of tobacco drifted underneath my nose, and I inhaled, forcing it to touch the deepest depths of my lungs.
Another Italian tenor serenaded me from the speakers somewhere in the room, something fromThe Phantom of the Opera, while the candlelight seemed to flicker with a silent breath.
“Where the fuck is he?” I whispered, slipping my hand underneath my hair, rubbing, feeling the scar. I was tense and needed to calm down. I took a few more deep breaths, but it seemed like the smell of his soap consumed the air.
Nothing short of passing out was going to make me calm.
This was his private place.
These were his things.
I was invading his space.
Something about that thought made my heart pump harder, my breath come faster, and my stomach feel hollow. Like I was standing at the top of the tallest building in the city, and below me a fire consumed the world.
I wondered whether he’d know if I dug around a little? Maybe poured myself a drink and made myself at home? I grinned as I turned around.
The grin slipped from my mouth as it opened, but no scream came out. It was more like an intake of breath that I sucked in and then released. The shoes dropped from my hand but hardly made a noise. Or maybe they had. My heart seemed like it was lodged in between my ears.
Aniello must have been waiting behind the door, and before I could comprehend what he was doing, he had his hand pressed against my mouth.
“You going to scream,” he said. “Save it for when it’s worth the trouble.”
My eyes narrowed against his. What did that mean?
Seeing as he wasn’t going to budge until I answered him, I shook my head, letting him know I wasn’t going to scream.
He slowly released his hand from my mouth. I took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest. For as hot as it was, I suddenly felt chilled to the bone.
Our eyes lingered as he moved past me, going for his closet. I watched as he undressed right in front of me. This time, I refused to look away.
He wanted me here.
Here I was.
His shoes came off first. His tie next. Dress shirt. Pants. Socks. Boxers.
The man was as hard as a statue when it came to feelings. That theme carried over to the physical. He was built like one, too. Wide shoulders. Thin waist. Muscles in all the right places. Though he wasn’t bulky. He didn’t need to be. The sense of power that radiated from him wasn’t something that came from years at the gym.
The difference between those statues and this one was what hung between his legs. Yeah,hung. It seemed like most of his bulk was there. I was sure it would have been more ladylike of me to feel afraid or pretend to be. To wonder howthatwas going to fit inside of me, and allow it to show on my face, but I thought or felt none of those things.
Maybe I wasn’t all that decorous, because I had no fear.
I wanted it.
