by Karina Halle
“That’s not true. I’m writing a romance. At least, it’s a book with sex in it.”
A dark, smoldering look washes across his eyes. “I think you know how I feel about sex. Sex with you is an art. And I can’t get much closer to heaven than when I’m buried deep inside you.”
The flush returns to my cheeks, my body awash with goosebumps.
Damn.
He straightens up and walks over to me, cupping my cheek.
“This is all for you, Grace,” he murmurs, running his thumb over my lower lip. “It is my gift for you. It is the least I can do for all the inspiration you have given me. I want you to be inspired too.”
I stare up at him, his thumb rough against my lip, his hand warm. I’m lost in the intensity of his eyes. So lost, that almost all thoughts leave my brain so all I’m left with is the bare, basic version of myself. The version that wants nothing more than to be with him, forever and always.
But as that thought manages to make its way through me, I’m struck with worry. That horrible realization that always follows a high.
“You did all this but I’m leaving so soon,” I tell him quietly.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, a soft smile on his lips. “Who says you have to leave?” His hand leaves my face, trails to the back of my neck.
I blink. “Because…”
“Because you’re supposed to be here for a month, si? But that is a date that Jana picked for you, because that’s when she knew I’d come back. I am not coming back. I have been here all this time. So why can’t you stay longer?”
I look away, trying to think. He starts running his fingers through my hair, making it hard to gather my thoughts. I close my eyes, giving into the sensation.
“Jana will think something is up if I stay.”
“And what will she think is up?”
“That … I don’t know. Maybe she’ll suspect the truth. That you’re the reason I’m staying here.”
“Uh huh,” he says matter-of-factly. I open my eyes to look at him, his expression serious. “You don’t think she would completely understand that you may need more time to finish your book? After all, you said you were here to get a lot done. What is wrong with telling her you’d rather finish it all in one spot?”
He’s got a point there.
“And also,” he says, making a light fist in my hair, “who cares what my ex-wife thinks? If she wants to think you’re staying here because of me, let her.”
I balk, giving him an incredulous look. How can he even think of saying that?
“Are you kidding me?”
He frowns, dropping his hand. He folds his arms across his chest, scrutinizing me. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? I can’t have Jana know about us! How do you think she would react if she found out I was sleeping with her ex-husband?”
He has the audacity to shrug. “I don’t think she’d care.”
“You don’t think she’d care?”
He considers that for a moment. “She wouldn’t have her feelings hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s not my biggest fan.”
“I know that she’s not in love with you. At least, that’s what I gather. But that doesn’t mean that her feelings won’t be hurt. Pride is a feeling, isn’t it?”
“Pride is a sin.”
“Okay fine, whatever. It will hurt her pride. Her trust in me. That’s breaking something between us, crossing a line. How do you think she would react if she found out that her troublesome client whom she sent down here to write ended up sleeping with her husband? With her child around!”
“Grace, you are worried about the wrong things.”
“Then tell me the right things to worry about. Look, you know her better than anyone. Tell me she won’t lash out at this. Tell me that I wouldn’t be the one to suffer. She won’t want to represent me anymore. She’ll drop me. I’ll be left on my own.”
“Hey, hey,” he says softly, putting his arms on my shoulders and pulling me against his chest. “Don’t let that mind of yours run away on you. I understand your concerns but…”
“But nothing. Those concerns are everything.”
I have to say, he actually looks hurt. Something pinches in my chest.
“Okay,” he says. “Then we don’t say anything to Jana. But you can still stay here, for as long as you want. Tell her you want to finish your book here and that will be the end of it. Is there any reason you need to go back to Edinburgh? Your apartment? Any plants that need to be watered?”
I sigh. “All my plants die within the first week of bringing them home. No, I don’t need to be back.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Then you will stay?”
I swallow. “For how long?”
“As long as you need. At least the summer.”
The entire summer. Another month or two of being with Claudio, sleeping with Claudio. It was almost better when I knew the end of our affair was coming sooner, because that meant there was less time for my feelings to build and run away on me. A lot can change over two months. How can I protect my heart for that long?
“Per favore,” he says gravely, holding my hand up to his mouth and placing a kiss on my knuckles, his eyes pinning me in place. “Please stay with me.”
My whole body aches with his words.
I can’t say no to this, I can’t say no to him.
Despite the heartache I know will come down the line, the thought of passing this up seems unconscionable.
“I will stay,” I tell him.
He smiles against my hand then pulls me in for a quick kiss.
“Okay, okay,” he says excitedly, breaking away and turning his body to the room, his hands on his hips, surveying it. “I am not done. I have to get back to work.”
“Don’t rush on account of me.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “You must write, Grace. Besides, I want to get this done before I head to Carrara today.”
With me as his muse, Claudio is almost done working on the clay mold for his sculpture. I’ve been sitting for him a few times this week while he sculpts, armed with roses. Now, with him nearing completion, he has to head to Carrara, which is an area north of here where they mine marble from the mountains. According to Claudio, Carrara marble is the best you can use, and the quarries have been used since Ancient Roman times.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asks.
I shake my head. As much as a trip to the mountains up north sounds fun, I know I have to write. I figure with him gone, it will probably be easier too. The only problem is that he’s planning on staying overnight at a friend’s house, one of the guys who works at the quarry, which means I’ll be alone with Vanni. He was invited but he passed it up, saying it was boring.
“I’m looking forward to getting some work done,” I tell him. “Less distractions.”
“Yes, well let’s hope that Vanni stays out of your hair.”
“He’s a good kid. He knows when I have to work.”
In fact, later, right after Claudio gets in his Range Rover and takes off for Carrara, Vanni turns to me and says, “Time for you to get to work. Go, go!”
I laugh and collect my laptop from my room. I have a few hours of writing left before I have to make dinner. Luckily, Vanni has volunteered to help, which should be a fun thing to do together. No doubt it won’t be as good as Claudio’s but if we make it ourselves, at least it means something.
Since Claudio finished my office right before he left, I know it’s ready for me to use. I head across the road and step inside the door, taking in the room with respect.
It hums with silence in here, and the thick stone walls keep out all the heat. It feels like a tomb in some ways, but it’s comforting. There’s enough good lighting so my eyes won’t feel strained, and the lack of windows means I have even less distractions.
I open my laptop and get to work.
The time passes quickly, the words flowing freely. Every now and then
I pause to have a sip from my water bottle, and I glance up at the Virgin Mary who is staring down at me. If anything, I feel her encouragement.
I stop for an early dinner, and Vanni and I make caprese sandwiches and eat them outside on the patio. I have a glass of wine that goes down too easily, but I need to keep my wits about me.
It’s still oppressively hot, even after dinner, and Vanni wants to go swimming. Since I should supervise him anyway, I decide to join him. At first, I attempt to do some laps, but Vanni is playing shark and diving under at the last minute as I pass him by, grabbing my legs. So we end up having a splash fest, which then escalates once he brings out the pool noodles.
I know my experience with kids was lacking before I came here, but I have to say being around Vanni has really opened my eyes. I’ve never been sure I wanted kids before and, frankly, I’m still not. I get it when Claudio said that Jana wasn’t maternal, because sometimes I think I’m the same way (and it does give me a bit of a pause, because Claudio is so well-suited to being a father).
But I really like being around Vanni. So much so that I think Claudio won’t be the only one to break my heart when I eventually leave. I’m going to miss this kid, too.
At least we have the whole summer together now.
“Grace!” Vanni yells at me, snapping me to attention.
I have no time to react as the pool noodle goes whack right across my face.
“You’re dead,” I growl at him.
“Italiano!” he yells gleefully, swimming away.
“Sei morto!” I tell him, grabbing the nearest pool noodle and going after him.
Later that night, I’m deep asleep in my bed when I hear something.
I sit up slowly, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom.
The door creaks open.
I don’t panic right away, because I assume it’s Vanni. Maybe he’s had a bad dream about being stuck in the wrong universe.
But then I notice a tall, dark figure stepping inside.
Oh my god.
I open my mouth to scream but hear, “Grace…”
Would a killer know my name?
They would if they were like Kathy Bates in Misery.
“It’s me.”
Claudio.
I exhale deeply, my heart thundering against my ribs. “What are you doing here?” I whisper.
The door quietly clicks shut and he walks across to my bed, standing at the end of it. “I came back. I couldn’t stand to be away from you.” His voice is raw and impassioned.
I lick my lips, instantly melting at the urgency in his words.
“It must be the middle of the night.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I woke up on the couch at my friend’s and I thought, what am I doing? Why am I here? Why am I not with you? It doesn’t matter that we have more time together now if I’m not going to use that time properly.”
I lean over and switch on the bedside light.
There he is, his features seeming sharp and shadowed in the half light. My god, is this really the man I’ve been giving my body to? The man who seems to want so much more? How can he be so beautiful?
“I’m glad you’re back,” I tell him quietly. “It was a little lonely without you.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. The look on his face is so serious and smoldering that it makes my skin feel like it’s being licked by flames.
We stare at each other for what feels like minutes and hours and then he’s getting on the bed and prowling across it over to me.
“Why can’t you sleep naked?” he whispers to me as his body rises above mine and I’m bracketed in by his large, strong frame, and his musky, sweet scent. His hand trails down over my breasts and then tugs at the hem of my t-shirt. “You know I come for you. You know I make you come.”
I gulp. That he does.
And yet something feels different tonight. There’s an intensity in the air, electric and alive, and the look in his eyes is nothing short of brooding. He wants me, that much is sure. Wants me so badly that he drove back to see me in the middle of the night.
For once, I feel like what we’re doing is slipping beyond casual fucking.
This is becoming something so much bigger than that.
Fear flits through me again and I nearly clutch my chest, as if I could protect my heart from being squashed by him. How will he not break me when this is all over? The path to destruction is inevitable.
But I raise my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head, my breasts bare, and then he works down my underwear, until I’m lying on the bed completely naked.
My mind is racing as I watch him, wondering what he’s going to do, his gaze raking over my skin.
He lowers his head and his mouth licks over my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples until I let out a cry of sweet pain, my face growing hot. My spine seems to buzz with each suck of his hot mouth over my cooler skin.
How can I leave this? How can this all be over one day? I don’t want this to end and yet I know there is no alternative. We simply can’t be together, so it’s casual sex or nothing, but at the same time, this isn’t casual. Not even a little. I want to be with him so badly that it scares me, makes my bones shake, makes my heart feel pinched and tight. If the yearning and the pining is already like this and he’s here, what will it be like when he’s not?
“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, and I look down to see his face moving down my stomach and back up, licking a path with a wide sweep of his tongue. His hands are at my thighs, digging into them, spreading them wide.
But he stops, tilting his head as he studies my face.
“W-what?” I manage to say, my throat feeling incredibly dry.
He wags a finger at me. “That brain of yours. The writer brain. What are you doing? Narrating? Or are you worrying?”
I close my eyes. It’s so hard to turn it off sometimes. To be in the moment, no matter how beautiful the moment is.
“I know how to help you,” he says after a beat. I feel him move off the bed.
He’s gotten up, and he’s going over to my wardrobe, flipping through the dresses. He finds a wide sash around one and whips the sash away from the dress, then he goes to the yellow and white dress I’ve been wearing while modeling for him, and removes the tie that goes around the waist.
He comes back to the bed, the tie and the sash in each hand.
“You like it when I spank you,” he says to me, keeping his voice low. A comment, not a question. “You like the pain because it feels good, but also because it makes you focus. It brings you to the present. It quiets your mind. I can’t get away with spanking you here — it will be too loud. But this should help do the same thing.”
I don’t know what he has in mind until he walks over to the side of the bed and nods at me. “Raise your arms, above your head.”
I do as he says and watch him as he leans over and ties the yellow waist tie around my wrists, holding them above my head, bent against the headboard.
“There,” he says, satisfied, his eyes sweeping over my body, leaving sparks in their wake. I’ve never been so exposed before.
I like it.
“That will help,” he says. “And so will this.”
He leans over me and places the sash over my eyes until I can’t see.
Oh my god, he’s blindfolding me.
“Lift your head,” he murmurs, and I do so. He quickly ties the ends of the sash at the back, then slips his hand to the back of my neck and lowers my head to the pillow.
“There,” he says. “Now your senses won’t be so overwhelmed. You can’t see me, and you won’t need to think about what to do with your hands. You’ll just focus on me, on me touching, licking, tasting every part of your body.”
Oh Grace. You poor naïve romance novelist. Your first time being tied up.
I feel myself flush in anticipation. There’s a scary thrill to this, but scary in a delicious way. With my hands tied and my sight blocked, I feel l
ike every inch of my skin is hypersensitive and alive.
I’m a feast, a succulent dish, offered up on a platter to a god.
I hear him removing his clothing, and I suddenly wish I could see, because I can never pass up a chance to ogle his body. But then as he gets closer to the bed, I suck in my breath and hold it until my lungs grow tight, not knowing what he’s going to do.
I feel the heat of his face as it comes over my chest, and then hot air blows against my breasts.
“Fuck,” I cry out through a rough gasp, my back arching up, my wrists fighting against the string for a moment.
Claudio continues to blow, concentrating on one nipple, then the other, before heading down over my sides, toward my belly.
I feel his hands grip my upper thighs, thumbs digging in, and he spreads my legs again and starts blowing down, down, down, the stubble on his cheeks scratching against my skin, the air blowing on my clit.
Sweet Jesus!
“Claudio!” I cry out harshly, my hips bucking up toward his face, wanting so badly for this teasing to stop, to feel the soft purchase of his mouth. This is already driving me crazy.
He pulls back just a bit, enough for me to hold my breath again, waiting, waiting … where is he going to go next?
God, he was right when he said this would help me focus. I’ve never been so attuned to my body before, to every single need and craving it has. And it wants him to eat me out, lick every crevice, until his cock is crammed inside me.
“What are you thinking now?” he murmurs, still between my legs, his breath hot as he speaks just inches from where I am so very wet and desperate.
“I want to grab your hair and shove your face between my legs, make you devour me.”
A pause. Then his warm chuckle.
“Very well.”
His lips meet my clit in a second, a burst of pleasure shooting through me like lightning bolts, and my hips are rising off the bed and I am so fucking done for, I feel like I’ve been turned inside out.
Meanwhile, he shows no signs of slowing. He licks at me, tongue strong and hot, and I’m growing slicker and slicker, the sound getting messier and messier.
I don’t even have time to prepare until I’m coming, my body shaking with tiny explosions.