She hisses, and I grin, covering her mouth with my free hand before I go back to eating her.
Chiara is so goddamn sexy.
And the thing is, she still thinks this is temporary.
She thinks carrying on like this—these stolen moments, these secret kisses—is going to burn the desire out of me.
That eventually I’ll get her out of my system.
Like she’s some passing obsession.
She doesn’t understand.
Every time I touch her?
It does the opposite.
Every brush of her skin against mine just drives the feeling deeper.
It’s like I’m carving her into myself.
Branding her onto my skin.
Memorizing the way she laughs, the way she looks at me when she’s trying not to smile.
Sealing the sound of her voice somewhere permanent inside my head.
And every moment we spend together just ties her tighter to my heart.
I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Not even close.
I’ve had women.
Plenty of them.
Fun nights, good memories, nothing that stuck around once the morning came.
But this?
This is something else entirely.
Because with Chiara, I don’t want just the night.
I want the mornings.
The arguments.
The quiet moments when she’s reading or working and I get to sit beside her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I want the life that comes with her.
And it’s a bloody terrifying realization.
Because if there’s one thing I know for certain now, sitting here in this cramped bus compartment with her knee pressed against mine…
It’s that I’m head over bloody heels for Chiara Giardino.
