I started cracking up when Beni moved from one end of the door to the other, pumping his arms up, dancing and singing too.
Naz slowly looked between us, like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements and have our spaceship suddenly beam him up.
The song came to an end and Naz disappeared. I hummed the song while I started on my makeup, planning to do my hair after. I paused with a brush close to my face. The song started to play again.
Naz appeared in the doorway, leaning against it, watching me. I could tell he was listening to the lyrics this time.
This routine wasn’t as exciting as my first, but I sang and danced some as I prepared for dinner. Naz watched the entire time, almost in a daze. I almost thought he might fall asleep, he seemed so relaxed.
“Is this fun for you?” I asked, setting my makeup back in the bag, borrowing Beni’s blow dryer. “Watching me get ready?”
“It puts me at ease.”
“Have you ever watched a woman get ready before?”
“No.” He said something in Italian, his strong hands barely touching me as he passed me to get to the separate bath area.
The water shut off in what seemed like seconds, and I pretended not to gawk as he came out, his waist down wrapped in a towel. It clung to him and that huge bulge. It bobbed as he moved like a fifth limb. He stood next to me, his body heat starting to make me sweat my makeup off.
If I didn’t move, I was going to end up sniffing him like a horny hound. The scent he wore was rich and spicy. It recalled Italy at midnight.
“Bathroom is all yours,” I whispered.
He grabbed my wrist before I walked off. It was still slick from the shower. “You do not have to leave.”
I could acutely feel the warmth from where he’d touched me like it was making a permeant mark. “One peep show is enough for today, thank you.” I laughed as I rushed out like a girl with her first crush.
Come to think of it…it was my first. If men in poster-form didn’t count.
Because I needed to take a breath, I dressed in the room where Naz had first brought my things. I went with a black lace camisole tucked into a pair of faux black leather pants, leopard print heels that would kill my feet by the time the night was over, and a long coat that looked like it could either be cream or pink depending on the light. I spritzed some perfume on and then rushed to open the door.
“Whoa!” I had to take a step back because a chest was in my face. “Shit.”
I didn’t mean to spit it out, but he was so fucking fine. He was dressed in a black button-down shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up. He had forearm porn for days. All those swollen veins…sigh.
He looked me over, his eyes moving slowly, and I could barely stand it. I probably should have stood there and took it, absorbed the feeling it sent through me, but it was too much. I wasn’t a squirmer, but he was making me fidget.
“Ready?” I asked. My voice betrayed me. It trembled.
He took a step forward and I took a step back. We danced this dance until my back was pressed to the wall, his hand pressed to the wall next to my head, and he was looking down at me. His shirt was slightly open, and I had to tame the urge to run my hand underneath it to feel the beating of his heart.
“Tell me, Ava Girardi, how many men have you ghosted.”
I opened my mouth to respond to something totally different. That was not what I was expecting. He was inquiring about my love life, or sex life, because love implied there was more to it.
“I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re asking. What about you, Nazzareno Fausti? I’m sure you’ve ghosted a few too.”
We stared at each other, in some kind of lockdown, until Beni clapped from behind us.
“Let us go!”
Naz wouldn’t be moved, though. Not until he had sufficiently made me squirm, like I’d sworn I’d never do for anyone. He slowly backed away from me, like this conversation wasn’t over, and his presence lingered. It was like he hadn’t left me at all.
Beni met me outside the room. Naz went to his.
“Beni?”
“Yesss.”
