It was Vincent.
Exhaling into his palm, Stella drooped in relief.
‘Shhh,’ he whispered, slowly peeling his hand from her mouth. ‘She’s asleep.’ Stella could only just make out his gesture towards Marcella’s bedroom door.
‘Jesus, you scared me.’
Vincent found the glass in Stella’s grasp and carefully dropped down to place it on the floor by the door. With one hand still firmly on Stella, he used the other to guide her gently to the wall behind them. Vincent’s physical dominance over Stella’s tiny frame meant that she was trapped. At first it was a little intimidating, but then Stella remembered the pull of desire he had previously stirred. She swallowed, muffling the adrenaline as best as she could, and let him take over.
He ran both his hands across her shoulders, down her arms and caught her waist in one fluid movement. He narrowed the gap between them until his face was tauntingly, deliciously close. The tip of his nose tickled the end of hers, and he moved it to caress her cheek, then the quivering nape of her neck.
While her heartbeat pulsated in the back of her ears, Stella was too overwhelmed to move. Her sopping wet pyjama top, mixed with the cool night air of the apartment, made her particularly aware of her braless state.
Vincent pulled back slightly, just enough so that they could make eye contact through the hazy grey light. He exhaled, relieved. ‘Third time’s a charm,’ he whispered, and his lips found hers. He kissed her, drawing her closer until she melted in his tight hold.
After a moment, Vincent ended the kiss and moved to caress her bare collarbone. Stella allowed him to follow it across her chest, enjoying the tingles he set loose between her legs. It was good.Achinglygood.
‘I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I set eyes on you.’ His voice teased as his lips, still wet from their kiss, grazed her ears and cheek. Slowly, he retreated, holding her at arm’s-length. ‘You’ll want to change these.’ He ran his hands across her chest, down her stomach and over her left thigh. ‘You’re wet.’
You have no idea.
He paused, whispering in her ear, ‘You know where I live.’ Turning on his heel, he stepped into the shadows of his bedroom, only half closing the door behind him.
Stella stood there in the dark, somewhere between aroused and a state of disbelief. She brought her fingers to her lips, where but a moment ago his had been. His scent lingered in the air. Hearing the dull thuds of the slats of Vincent’s bed adjusting under his weight, she collected her glass from the floor and retreated to her room, placing it on her desk.
Closing the door as quietly as she could, Stella took a moment to collect her thoughts. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Should she go to bed? Was the kiss an invitation to join him?
You’re in deep now.
She dropped her face into her hands and rubbed her eyes, hoping it might bring some clarity. It didn’t.
Looking down, she could make out the large wet patches across her pyjamas and immediately peeled them off and piled them on the floor by her desk. Opening the top drawer of her bedside table, she eyed her clean pyjamas; the first a simple top and bottom set, the other a black silk negligee. She took a deep breath, steeled herself and slipped the negligee over her head and pulled it down over her torso and hips. Looking down at her modest breasts, she attempted to adjust how they sat in the soft cups, for the first time wishing she had some of what Marcella had to spare.
Retying her hair, she closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She didn’t know Vincent. Who was he, really? And he was her roommate. Warning bells sounded through her mind, and a fresh surge of adrenaline brought goosebumps that rippled across her bare skin. Burying the fear, Stella stood tall and proud.
Shewantedto finish that kiss.
Quietly opening her bedroom door, she crossed over the threshold and disappeared into the abyss across the corridor.
As the latch clicked ever so gently in the doorjamb, a distant symphony of emergency vehicle sirens floated down the Tiber. It became increasingly fainter as the procession moved in a southerly direction, away from Trastevere. Only those attuned to Rome’s constant barrage of warnings heard the sirens, even in their sleep. Stella, usually one to jump at the first alarm, was too distracted to heed the warning Rome so desperately sent out on the cool night air.
She wasn’t ready to hear it.
otto
Stella grunted as the bells of Santa Maria chimed their usual wake-up call. Turning over in her bed, to which she had returned in the early hours of the morning, her head thumped.
Confused and overwhelmed, Stella sat upright, leaned over her bedhead and opened the window and external shutters. The air which gently began to float into her bedroom was refreshing, and she inhaled deeply.
The empty glass sat on her desk by a stack of papers, and her wet pyjamas were still in a pile on the floor; she hadn’t dreamed it.
Looking down at her negligee, she shook her head. How she hated the thing. A very expensive gift from Andrew – for his benefit rather than for her pleasure – that she had never been able to justify throwing away. He had loved to remind her how much he’d spent on it, and how it ought to be put to good use.
Pulling it off, she caught the scent of Vincent’s cologne on the silk, losing herself for a moment in flashes from the night before. Holding the negligee at arm’s-length, she steeled herself, then threw it in the bin, adding a kick for good measure.
Standing naked in her bedroom, awash in the replenishing kiss of the Roman morning breeze, Stella decided not to tell Marcella about what had happened with Vincent. It wasn’t worth the fuss and barrage of questions she could expect in return. Instead, she would enjoy this private moment – whatever the hell it was.
She scanned the floor for her slippers, only to find a small white envelope had been left under her door. She picked it up and read the note inside.
