He opened the door and Francesca stepped inside, closing it promptly behind her.
‘Buongiorno,’ she said, and kissed him. He had been slightly worried about how things would be between them today, but this put him at ease.
‘Buongiorno,’ he replied. ‘Want some coffee? It’s just come off.’
‘No, grazie. I am going to go eat with Nonna and Mamma. I just wanted to quickly come and see how you slept?’
Her usually wild tangle of curls had been pulled into a low full ponytail, tied with a navy satin scarf, the tails of which caught on her shoulder.
‘Sleep?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well. Very well.’
She smiled and pressed a hug into his white pyjama top. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Are you ok this morning after last night?’ The image of their tangled naked limbs returned to his mind.
‘Apart from this,’ she laughed, pulling down the front of her tank and lowering the right cup of her bra. There, by her nipple, over her fusillo tattoo, was a very distinct lovebite.
‘Ugh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘I’ll treasure it for the next few days.’
Alessio reached forward to caress the red patch with his thumb, and wondered again at the new-found intimacy between them. The warmth and feel of her breast had imprinted itself on his fingers; he knew how she would feel, how it would fill his cupped palm.
‘Still, I feel bad.’
Francesca rearranged her bra and top and waved off his concerns. ‘Would you like to join us for breakfast?’ His eyes scanned the apartment in search of his clothing from the night before, and perhaps sensing this, she reassured, ‘We took everything with us. Don’t worry. I’ve already been up to check.’
‘Thank you. I was going to do that now.’ He reached across and caught her shoulders in his hands, drawing her close to his chest. Alessio felt her melt in his embrace, her cheek finding the warm nook by his neck. ‘I’ll come down. Need to start those taralli I promised your mamma.’
‘Bene. And about last night. If you want to do that again . . .’ She tilted her head to lock eyes with him.
‘Right now? Because I’m ready.’
She giggled softly. ‘Breakfast awaits.’ She pressed a longer kiss to his mouth, her tongue gently caressing his. ‘You were incredible last night.’ She brushed a hand against his groin, which immediately responded to her touch. ‘This was everything.’
Alessio felt his cheeks warm. ‘It takes two . . .’
While Francesca’s eyes were slightly dark-rimmed due to lack of sleep, something about her seemed to sparkle, as if she had been renewed somehow. There was a lightness to her smile and a freshness to her complexion. ‘You were the perfect gentleman.’ She smiled then turned and left, slipping out the door as quietly as possible.
Remembering how she had gripped him, held him tight, begged for more . . . They had opened a door that could not now be shut, ripped off the bandaid and exposed all their vulnerabilities. Turning his attention back to the moka, he poured himself a quick espresso, dropping a teaspoon of golden raw sugar into it.
The issue which dominated his thoughts wasn’t about next steps, if or when they would have sex again, or even if things would be the same moving forward.
Now you know you want more of her. And it’s not just sex.
ventinove
Wednesday night’s sex on the terrazzo turned into much more over the following week.
Stolen kisses on the stairs. An interrupted moment in the vegetable garden. Fumbling under tops, over dresses. A passionate encounter in Sophia’s back seat after dark.
And while Francesca and Alessio were able to cover their tracks, there was something Francesca couldn’t hide – the way she glowed. And she didn’t have Alessio’s excuse – that it was because of the Mediterranean sun.
That Sunday, as the women prepared for dinner service, Elena looked hard at her daughter and asked, ‘Have you been sleeping particularly well this week?’
‘Just normal, I guess,’ Francesca said.
‘Hmm.’ Elena flicked some extra flour on her board and continued kneading her dough. ‘Because there’s something different about you. Isn’t there, Mamma?’
