The thought slips through before I can stop it. Two people waking up together. Lazy morning light. Nowhere to be, nothing to do except exist in this bed, in this moment.
This could be my life.
A dangerous thought. The kind that gets you killed in a place like this. The kind that makes you forget there’s a man named Cicero who wants you gone, and a woman named Gabriella who’d probably slit your throat given half a chance.
But right now, with the sea reflecting sunlight beyond the windows and Elio’s warmth around me, I let myself pretend. Just for a minute. Until reality comes crashing back in.
His fingers twitch against my hip. A small movement, barely there, but I feel it everywhere.
“You’re awake.” His voice is rough with sleep. Deeper than usual.
“Mm.”
“How long?”
“Long enough to count your heartbeats.” I turn my head, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You sleep like the dead, by the way. Didn’t even twitch when I stole half the blankets.”
His arm tightens around me. “I sleep like a man who hasn’t slept properly in months.”
“Insomnia?”
“You.” His lips brush my hair. “Watching you on the monitors. Lying awake wondering if you’d ever stop hating me.”
I should hate him.But the emotion is hollow now, an echo of something that used to have teeth.
“I don’t hate you,” I say, the words feeling strange in my mouth. True, but strange. “I should. God knows I tried. But I don’t.”
His breath catches for a second. Then his hand slides up my side, fingertips tracing the curve of my waist, and the touch is so gentle it makes my chest ache.
“How do you feel?” His voice is careful. “After this morning. After?—”
“Sore.” I shift against him, testing. The movement pulls at muscles I forgot I had. “Good sore. The kind that reminds you that you’re alive.”
“I should have been more careful?—”
“You should have been exactly what you were.” I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. He looks younger. Softer.The sharp lines of his face gentled by sleep and satisfaction. “I didn’t want careful, Elio. I wantedyou.”
That raw vulnerability I saw last night when I told him he was mine flickers in his eyes.
“Come here.” His hand cups the back of my neck, drawing me down. The kiss is soft and lazy. Tasting like sleep and each other.
I melt into it.
His other hand finds my hip. Thumb stroking circles over my skin. Not demanding. Touching. Like he’s reassuring himself that I’m still here.
I deepen the kiss. Shift my weight until I’m half-sprawled across his chest. His cock hardens against the inside of my thigh, a slow press of heat, because apparently the man’s refractory period is superhuman, and the feel of it sends a pulse of heat through my belly.
“Again?” I murmur against his mouth.
“Only if you want.”
God, yes.
I want. I want so much it scares me. I slide my leg over his hip. Position myself so the hard length of him presses right where I’m already getting wet. His breath hisses out.
“Violet—”
“Shh.” I roll my hips. Slow. Letting him feel how ready I am, how much I want this. “No more talking.”
