My moan was slow, a sly and broken sound; she remembered exactly how to unravel me. When she penetrated me with a single finger, I stared down at her, my gaze locked onto hers. Her breath was so close, so hot against my skin, that it felt as though she could make me come through proximity alone.
"Please..." I sighed, my fingers tangling in her hair, refusing to look away.
Finally, her mouth took me. The touch of her tongue was surgical in its perfection. She moved with a rhythmic, devastating grace across my vulva, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my knees tremble. She let out a muffled curse against my skin, never breaking the contact.
I pressed her closer, my breath hitching as she added another finger. I felt a sharp, delicious tightness as a reminder of the months of emptiness. Kelsey focused her attention on my clitoris, her tongue flickering with a relentless pace while her fingers drove deeper, anchoring me to the moment.
I writhed against her, grinding my hips into the heat of her mouth and the pressure of her hand. I held her head captive against me, seeking every ounce of the friction I had craved for eighteen months, until the world finally splintered.
I sank into the afterglow, my muscles twitching with the ghost of the pleasure she’d just given me. Kelsey lingered for a moment, her lips trailing over my skin before she finally climbed up, her mouth glistening. I reached out, my index finger catching a stray drop at the corner of her lips, and brought it to my own. A communion of sorts.
"I'll see you when you get elected," she whispered, her voice a low, steady vow.
"I'll try not to be mad at you anymore," I replied, a small, tired smile flickering on my face.
She took my chin in her hand, pulling me into a kiss that felt more like a sealing of a contract than a goodbye. It was deep, silent, and final.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, the silence of the library rushed back in. I moved with practiced, numb efficiency. I stepped back into the clouds of tulle, pulling the white dress up and fastening the buttons that Kelsey had just undone.
I stood before the mirror, smoothing my hair and adjusting the floral headpiece until every stray strand was back in its place.
I looked at the woman in the reflection—the bride, the judicial success, the untouchable figure the capital expected. She looked perfect. She looked untouched. Only I knew that beneath the silk and lace, my skin was still burning from the touch of the woman I was supposed to have forgotten.
#56
“Fill my veins, feel this pain. When it rains, burn in flames” McFLY
It had taken me far too long to decode Kelsey’s motives, until a session in therapy forced me to hold up a mirror. I had done the exact same thing the night I climbed into Peter’s car and tried to negotiate with a monster.
We both trade in the currency of dangerous sacrifices to protect what we love.
Our lives had become a series of strategic maneuvers. Meeting at political galas and committee events was merely an excuse to find a locked door and a hidden corner.
The separation was unbearable, especially when we occupied the same air. We’d agreed on a strict rule: no phone calls. Perhaps that was why the lust and the sheer anticipation felt like it was stripping the skin from my bones at every meeting.
Kelsey didn’t call, but she spoke in other ways, sending rare flowers, avant-garde paintings, and private exhibition invitations that acted as breadcrumbs leading back to her.
And with every gesture, I fell deeper.
My mind was still tangled in a daydream, the memory of those blonde hands claiming my body, when the intercom shattered the silence.
"Mrs. Fognini is outside and wishes to speak with you, Your Honor," Liam’s voice announced.
"Send her in, Liam."
It took less than two minutes for my chambers to be invaded by the Italian hurricane known as Giorgia. I had the files for Matteo’s case spread across my desk; I had planned to spend the night dissecting them.
"I hear you're looking for Matteo for his testimony," she said before I could even offer a greeting. She sank into the chair across from me, her presence commanding and chaotic. "Good afternoon, Your Honor."
"Good afternoon, Giorgia. Yes, I’ve issued several search warrants. He’s officially a fugitive."
"Well, he won't be able to see you today."
"And why is that?"
She pressed a hand to her mouth in a display of mock-drama before leaning in, her eyes glinting with a dangerous mirth.
"Oh, 'cause he's dead." She let out a sharp, loud laugh that echoed against the mahogany walls before her expression turned stone-cold. "Sorry for the joke. But truly, he’s dead."
