Just for a little while, I tell myself. Just for a little while, I'll pretend thisis real.
When I wake up again, there's still darkness on the other side of the window. The only light is the softly glowing lamp that somehow managed to stay on my desk.
Roberto’s jacket is over me, warm with his scent and my own. He’s not on the sofa with me.
He’s standing by the window, looking out over the city, in only his trousers. His back is to me, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. He's a coiled spring, ready to snap.
I know what he's thinking. I can feel the distance growing between us, a chasm opened by the light of day.
He's regretting this. He's regretting me.
Panic rises in my throat, sharp and acidic. I push it down, forcing myself to be calm.
"Roberto?" My voice is a soft whisper in the quiet room.
He turns, and the look on his face makes my heart ache. It's not regret. It's worse.
It's conflict. A war between what he wants and what he thinks is right.
He walks back to the sofa, sitting on the edge, careful not to touchme.
"Olivia," he says, his voice low and serious.
I shake my head no and lean into him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pressing my chest against his back. He goes still. I know he thinks this is wrong.
I don't care.
I kiss the skin between his shoulder blades, a soft, gentle kiss that is both a question and an answer.
"No," I say, my lips against his skin.
He lets out a long, slow breath. He's fighting a battle, and I'm not sure which side he wants to win.
I press another kiss to his back, higher up this time, between his shoulder blades. I trail a line of soft kisses up his spine, my hands tracing the muscles of his arms.
He turns then, capturing my face in his hands. His gaze is intense, searching mine.
"What are you doing, Olivia?" he asks.
I tilt my head back, my lips brushing against his. "Taking what I want," I say.
I kiss him. A slow, deep kiss that is a promise of more. A promise I intend to keep.
He doesn't resist. He can't. I can feel the fight draining out of him, replaced by the same desire that burned so brightly before.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth, tasting me. I respond with a passion that surprises even me. I want this. I want him.
I sit up to push him back against the arm of the sofa. His jacket falls away as I move over him, straddling his waist.
My hands explore his chest, my fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the trail that disappears into the waist of his unbuttoned pants.
I lean down, my lips finding a nipple. I suck on it, my teeth grazing the sensitive nub. He groans, his hands fisting in my hair.
I move to the other side, giving it the same attention. His hips buck against mine, a silent plea for more.
I know what he wants. But I'm not ready to give it to him yet. I want to explore him. To know him.
I slide down his body, my lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he's trying to hold back, to maintain control.
