“Too much,” I said.
“Never,” he said in Italian.
I laughed a little at that and he started walking again. He set me down in the bedroom, and when I realized how he was looking at me, like he’d saved me for dinneranddessert, I started backing up. My teeth chattered and my knees knocked.
“It’s not as cold,” he said, noticing my chattering teeth.
“No,” I breathed out. It wasn’t from the temperature anymore. “How do you know about it being cold?”
“I know everything when it comes to you. What you want. What you don’t. What you need. What you don’t. What you like. What you don’t.”
“What I love?” I said.
“Forse,” he said not missing a beat.
My eyes narrowed. He’d said “maybe.”
Maybe he knew what I loved? Maybe he didn’t? I was shocked that “maybe” was even part of his vocabulary. All I expected him to accept was either a solid yes or a hard no.
I tried to back up some when he came closer, but I was pressed up against the wall, unless I took a step to the right and slipped into the bathroom.
He placed one hand to the side of my head, and with the other, he moved a piece of loose hair and set it behind my ear.
“Surrender to me tonight, Rosalia,” he said in Italian.
“I have,” I whispered, hardly able to hold his stare.
It was subtle, barely there and then gone, but he shook his head. “I need all of you.”
What had he told me the night before?I need sleep.
Tension slipped in between his body and mine. As we gazed at each other, me thinking, him waiting on an answer, it grew into a heavy weight that burdened my heart enough to anchor in my stomach.
I wasn’t sure what he was asking of me.
Was it physical?
Or something more?
I’d given him all of me.
How could I give him any more? I had nothing left to give. I was all his. I was waiting to find out exactlywhoIwas tohim.
If a body could make a noise when it gave in, I could’ve sworn his snapped. “Fuck,” he said, and his mouth claimed mine. Our tongues were relentless, our hands ravaging, as clothes started to fly around the room.
The entire night almost felt like the moments during the crash. Some came to me in clear clarity, like when he was fucking me from behind, pulling my hair, biting my neck like an animal. Others gave me the sensation of being suspended in midair, knowing the crash was coming but unable to concentrate on anything but that moment of complete surrender.
He was hitting that spot again. Over and over. Until I felt like I’d either go mad or die if the pleasure didn’t swallow me up whole.
“Breathe,Rosalia,” he said in my ear, our bodies slapping and sliding. We were soaked in sweat from the sheer madness of how hard our bodies were working to reach that highest point before the fall. “Breathe.”
My chest and lungs burned when I took in a breath. My heart pounded. A scream tore out of me when he reached me so deep inside that I couldn’t hold on any longer. At the noise, he made a deep one in his throat, and then he spilled himself inside of me.
Hours.
The night seemed to go on and on.
Neither of us were satisfied unless we were touching, rolling, kissing, tasting, tangling, our bodies constantly connected. When I was too sore between my legs to take anymore, he took me in a place that would have seemed indecent, or too embarrassing, in the daylight. But in the darkness with him, only that fire in the depths of his eyes to keep me warm, I would have given him anything he wanted.
