Beyond Alessio, my experience with men is basically non-existent. Previous relationships were short-lived. Boys who made it a habit to walk with their arm around my shoulders, announcing their claim. Boys whose flirting was awkward at best.
No one—not even Alessio—has ever looked at me the way Lev is.
Heat covers my skin, my insides igniting. My hands curl, and I fight the urge to hide them in my pockets, because that’d reveal my nerves. My stomach flip-flops for no good reason, consideringwhoI’ve dressed for. Not Lev.
As quick as he stiffened, he blinks and shakes it off before scrambling to his feet, almost tossing his laptop onto the floor. “Where the hell are you going, dressed like that?”
“Out.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“You know the answer to that.” He crosses his arms and somehow becomesbigger.
“For a drive.” I head for my purse resting on top of the mini fridge by the door, noting it’s nearly seven.
His steps trail. “With who? Where?”
“My boyfriend,” I answer the first question because I don’t have an answer to the second. “Stay. I’ll be back in a couple hours. No one’s gonna get me while I’m with him, so consider this your extended break. Get a snack or something. You barely eat. I’ll see you later.”
I’m out of the room before he can say anything else, knowing that won’t be the end. Zeno did say Lev wouldn’t stop me from living my life, and unless he’s planning on sitting in the backseat of Alessio’s car—which, hell no—there’s nothing he can do.
Quick steps take me to the elevator, passing a group of students. With a peek to ensure he’s not behind me, I exit the building, following Alessio’s directions. For some reason, he chose not to use the parking lot literally in front of my building, but rather parked on the road to the right side of university grounds.
When reaching the gate and stepping onto the sidewalk, my steps quicken when spotting the familiar black car with beaming headlights.
Alessio slips out of the driver’s seat and meets me halfway, lifting me in his arms with a small twirl. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
He brings my face to his and kisses me deeply, his tongue parting my lips. His hands lower to my hips, where he keeps mepinned against him. The urge to see his face outweighs this, so I lean back to gaze into his brilliantly dark eyes.
“This is nice,” I whisper. “I still wish you were back this semester.”
His gaze flick over my shoulder and over the various school buildings. It’s with a regretful tone he replies, “I know. Me too. I was looking forward to being with you during your first year.” His head ducks lower, his breath tickling my neck. “I wanted to show you all the best areas to get a few moments of quiet.”
I shiver, but from nerves rather than desire. Sex is one of the limits we haven’t gotten to because I pull back every time. Ironic, since not being raised with the same expectations Madre was means my virginity isn’t a trading tactic for the Cosa Nostra, but still, I haven’t wanted to yet. Whenever we’re close, little red alarms go off and urge me to end it, which is something I’ve learned to not ignore. It mightfeelright, but clearly, it isn’t.
“Still not gonna tell me why you’re skipping the semester?” I ask, shifting the topic away from anything physical.
He shakes his head before leading me to his car. “Wish I could. Sorry.”
Once I’m inside, he returns to his side and pulls away from the curb. Lights decorate the dashboard of a vehicle too costly for the average student. Even after months of dating, I still don’t know that much about Alessio. At first, he was merely the hot, intriguing older guy who entertained me. Now, as we’re settling, it feels like if I probe too much, the spell will shatter, and he’ll be gone.
Although sometimes, I question if that’s a terrible thing.
“Promise you won’t get too busy with school and forget about me.”
Come back, and I won’t.It’s petty, so I don’t say it. “I won’t.”
“I know what it’s like to get so wrapped up in the amount of work you’re about to be assigned.”
I lay my hand over his loosely resting on the console. “Trust me. I’m not planning on studying my brain away every day.” Only half of it. “We’ll get lots of chances, your schedule depending.”
He twists his hand around so he’s holding it instead and lifts them to kiss my knuckles. “I’ll always make time for you. You believe that, don’t you?”
When his mood is like this, it’s difficult to remember this is the same guy who gets angry when I don’t do something he wants. I tell myself it’s because he’s tired, busy, moody, but now, I wonder if it’s one of many reasons I won’t completely open up to him.
He can be possessive, which is fine…sometimes. Depends why and how he goes about it. So, what happens when I give myself to him, and he gets worse?
