Gently pulling her legs apart, Marco’s hand dipped under the ridge of her underwear, and she heard her breath hitch as his fingers tenderly brushed over her. She read the reassurance on his face upon finding her ready for him, accented by the meekest of smiles.
‘Posso?’
Stella couldn’t find her voice. It was trapped somewhere between her heart and her stomach. So she nodded.
It was one finger at first. Then two. All the while, Marco’s eyes never left hers. She bucked her hips gently in time with his rhythm, writhing with each ripple of electricity.
Eventually, Marco’s same fingers hooked under the elasticated lace of Stella’s underwear, causing her to flinch under his now steadying hold. Stella sensed it was his way of slowing them down and bringing her back to the moment. But she felt only the burn of lust-soaked want, and her hands grabbed at him, begging for more.
With his lips now muffled against her ear, he whispered what she was desperate to hear. His words – confident, yet tinted with his usual tenderness – released her from her torment. ‘Daje, Stellina, these need to come off.’
The well-worn armour Stella had securely built around her heart lay in shards, knotted among items of their cast aside clothing. The abandon of her self-made protection signalled a rebirth, an evolution, the liberation of her soul.
Their pleasure-laced breathing and the sounds of Rome ringing in the new year were all that Stella could register as Marco propelled them into the future.
trentanove
‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you!’ Stella, wearing Marco’s t-shirt from the night before and her jeans, was flitting around the kitchen. A little deflated, her brow gathered. ‘I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.’
Without speaking, Marco walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder. Stella’s hold folded over Marco’s and she dropped her head to meet his.
‘Buongiorno,’ he eventually whispered. ‘I woke up and you were gone. I thought you left.’
Stella turned in his arms to face him. ‘Leave? After last night?’ She shook her head. ‘Just forcaffé.’
Looking up into his deep brown eyes, Stella read a new contentedness in his face. It was the first time he had been able to greet her exactly as he wanted – with the closeness and intimacy he had always felt for her – and Stella could see the joy practically beam from the brightened glow of his skin. ‘Look at you.’ She caressed his cheek. ‘You look . . .’ Marco tried to stifle his sheepish smile in her hair, but she pulled away. ‘You’re so . . .’
‘Happy?’
‘And gorgeous.’ She ran a hand through his looser than normal mop of sleep-ruined waves.
‘Happy because of you.’ He drew her to his chest and dropped a kiss to her crown. ‘And happy it wasn’t a dream.’
Stella giggled into his warm naked skin. ‘Nota dream. Can I make you that breakfast?’
He nodded. ‘Grazie. I’m hungry,’ he said, releasing her into the kitchen.
‘Hungry? Can’t imagine why.’ She winked and gestured for him to take a seat on the couch as she collected what she needed.
‘No Papà or Ignazio,’ he said, flicking through his texts before setting his phone back on the bench.
‘Good,’ she said, handing him a coffee.
‘In the cupboard there is half apan—’
‘Already found it,’ she announced, laying a plate of freshly cutpandoroon the coffee table in front of him. ‘I added the extra icing sugar. Wasn’t nearly enough.’
‘Brava. And the Nute—’
The jar hit the table top with sarcastic timing. ‘Who do you take me for?’
‘Scusami!’ He raised his hands in defeat, laughing. ‘Of course. Of course.’
Snuggling against Marco’s side, Stella sipped away contentedly at her coffee, allowing its steam and strength to rouse her. She inhaled, closing her eyes momentarily.
She still felt a heavy deep-seated fatigue from the emotional experience she’d had with Vincent. The weeks of playing fake nice dotted with triggering lapses of adrenaline upon hearing his name had simply worn her down. And now, in the light of the fresh day and a new year, all that remained of Vincent’s mark was the lingering sting behind her eyes from the tears she had shed on the frigid walk to Marco’s apartment.
In that moment, with Marco by her side, she felt it all. And all at once. Her frame could have caved beneath the weight of worry and fear, but instead, it found strength in her new resolve and in Marco’s steadfast support. In the space of a few hours, she had come full-circle, shedding the burden and rubble of her past, ready for a bright positive future.
