by Lynn, Sophia
"Thank you," she said, and they walked into the evening.
Chapter Seven
Penny pushed away her doubts and her fears. There seemed to be no place for them on a perfect evening in Rome, walking down the street hand-in-hand with perhaps the handsomest man she had ever seen. While a part of her was cautioning that this all seemed too good to be true, too romantic to be happening to a nobody from the rural parts of the United States, another part of her was drinking it in. It was as if a part of her had been starved for far too long, and now Ziyad was feeding it.
It felt as if something inside her was opening up, coming out now that it was safe, and it was an unexpectedly gorgeous feeling.
Finally, before she knew it, it was almost entirely dark, and they were standing in front of the door up to her flat.
"I should probably go in for the night, even if I don’t want to at all," she said reluctantly.
Ziyad glanced up at her apartment in surprise. "You live here? There are windows that are boarded up..."
"Yes, some drunken party broke the windows a few weeks ago. I think the landlord probably lives in Florence. At least they got boarded up. The first weekend they left it open and the rain flooded some poor woman's apartment."
She caught the shocked look on Ziyad's face, and for some reason, instead of making her self-conscious or ashamed, it made her laugh.
"So I take it this is the first time you've ever been around less than amazing housing?" she guessed, and Ziyad nodded a little, a faint chagrined smile on his face.
"I am sure it makes me very sheltered, but I'll be honest, my family has been wealthy for a very long time. It is not something I have ever had to think about..."
A thought occurred to her which hadn't before. She had assumed that Ziyad did something for the money that he seemed to throw around like paper, but perhaps he didn't. It would make sense, after a fashion. If he was a trust fund recipient, if someone in his family's past had done something truly lucrative, or even if he had wealthy parents, that would make sense.
I think he's ashamed, she realized with surprise. It was new to her, the idea that someone could be ashamed of their wealth and their place in the world, but when she thought of it, it all fit together. He had dodged her questions about work because he was ashamed that he had none.
It made her feel strangely kind and gentle towards him, or at least that was what she assumed she was feeling when she spoke next.
"Want to come up and see how the other half lives?" she asked, and he looked at her startled. Honestly, he looked a little more startled than she’d expected. Then she replayed those words in her head, and she realized what it sounded like.
"Not to, um, get intimate or to make love," she said, knowing in advance exactly how awkward those words would sound but unable to find any other way to say them. "Just...well, I live here, and I think I'm a little too tired to want to keep walking and stuff. I...I really do want to keep talking to you, because, well, I like talking to you, but I totally understand if you are tired and want to go home or something..."
Mercifully, Ziyad reached out and placed one fingertip over her lips. It was a remarkably soft touch for a man who was so tall and imposing, and she stilled immediately as a thrill of sensation ran straight through her. It began where he touched her lips, but then it spread through her body like ripples through water.
"Shh," he said with a slight smile. "I would love to go up and see where you live."
Silently, she nodded and led him up the rickety staircase to her own door, which was painted with a flaking red paint.
When she allowed him in, she did it with a slight lift to her chin, daring him to say anything. The truth was that this small set of rooms was among the nicest that she had ever lived in, though she knew that was definitely not saying much. The whitewashed walls were cracked, and the wooden window lintels were splintering. Her floors creaked with every step, and her furniture was sparse to say the least. Everything had been bought second-hand from the market, and though the bright fabrics tossed over the chairs and table were festive enough, Penny had to admit that any real charm she had managed to pick up was definitely on the shabbier side.
After she had locked the door securely behind them, she turned to Ziyad, waiting to see the scorn, or worse, the pity on his face. Some part of her cried out at the idea of suffering either from him, but another part, the part that had grown up poor but proud of her own strong heart and iron will, dared him to do it, dared him to see her space and to somehow think she was less for it.
Ziyad, however, seemed completely unaware of her scrutiny. He roamed the small room, looking at her furniture and her shabby decorations with grave regard. When he glanced up at her, he did it with a small smile.
"I can see how you have made this place your own," he said, and she had to lick her lips twice before she answered him.
"How do you mean?"
He pointed at the dyed fabric that covered the sofa. It was a bright yellow orange, and it had been dyed in a sunflower pattern, with the orange petals stark against the black lines.
"That makes me think of the sunniness of your spirit," he explained, "something that shines bright against the dark. And the violet that you placed over the table, it reminds me of the evening in Rome, when the sun has slipped below the horizon but the sky still wears her colors."
For a moment, she was captivated by his words, not recognizing herself in them. Penny knew who she was. She knew she was not a woman who merited words like that, but when Ziyad spoke, she thought perhaps she was.
"You...so I suppose you're a poet?"
He laughed. "If I were a poet, I can assure you I would be living in a place a lot worse than this and likely sharing it with eight or nine other people. No, I'm just speaking the truth, and that is a much simpler gift than poetry."
She supposed it was unlikely that he had made thousands of dollars writing poetry, but still there was something about his words that moved inside her, drifting like smoke and making something inside her open up and purr.
"I love this place," Penny found herself saying. "It's mine, it's all mine. When I pick something up, it's still there when I get back. I can put color wherever I like. God, that was the worst thing about my grandmother's place. Everything had to be the same shade of brown and ecru. Just boring and dull, and the moment anything was out of place, she would become so...so very angry."
Ziyad smiled at her, and if there was something a little sad about his smile, there was something strangely proud there, too.
"This place is beautiful because it is yours," he confirmed.
The moment stretched between them, but there was nothing nervous about it, nothing fraught. Penny felt that somehow he had seen inside her, to the very secret heart that she spent so much time trying to hide and deny. Now that he had seen it and accepted it, there was a part of her that was open to him and always would be.
"Ziyad?"
"Yes, bella?"
"Will you kiss me?"
"Certainly."
She had a moment to reflect that it was shockingly easy, that she had simply asked and he would answer. Then he was across the room and his strong arms were wrapped around her. There was nothing demanding about this embrace, nothing at all frightening or pressuring. He was holding her because she wanted him to, and she could feel the warmth and strength in his frame through every inch of her.
He palmed her cheek gently, urging her head up so that he could lean down. For a moment, he simply looked into her eyes, and she thought she had never seen anything as dark or as deep as his gaze. Then his mouth was slanting down over hers, his kiss as gentle as cotton but as intense as lightning.
Penny had been kissed before, but there had been nothing in her life like what she was experiencing with Ziyad. His kiss was patient and slow, gentle and perfect. She reveled in his taste, in the surprising softness of his lips and in the sweetness with which he urged her lips apart.
At the first touch of his tongue slidin
g between her lips, she nearly panicked, drawing away. Penny could feel Ziyad responding to that, and he would have stepped back himself. But there was something in her that could not bear that. Instead, she reached for him and drew him back again, this time parting her lips so she could feel that entirely new and breathtaking feeling again.
Why, it's only another way of stroking me, she thought hazily as she felt his tongue sliding slyly along her lower lip. Now that he had gained her acceptance, he took his time with it, and in her turn, Penny realized she had never before understood how sensitive and sensual her mouth could be. Soon enough, she was drawing on his tongue, marveling at how good this could feel and how very good he made her feel.
At some point, she felt the elemental maleness of him come to attention, hard and pressed against her hip. Even that didn't alarm her. In the past, it had been an unpleasant sign that she would have to stop things or risk dealing with whining and pleading or much, much worse. Instead, Ziyad all but ignored it, concentrating instead on simply kissing her.
He was the one who drew back, and when he looked down at her, there was a faint smile on his face.
"Do you have any idea how amazing you look?" he asked softly, and she laughed. There was a husky quality to her voice that she had never thought it would have.
"I thought I was the one who’d had too much to drink earlier," she teased, and he shook his head.
"You don't even know, do you?" he said tenderly. "It's so strange. Every time I see you, it's like I find you more and more lovely."
She would have laughed at that, but then he was kissing her again, carrying her mind far away from the idea of whether he believed she was truly beautiful or not and making her feel as if her head was floating gently away from her body.
It felt like a kind of heat was welling up inside her, suffusing her in a golden glow. All she wanted was to be closer with this man, to become one with him in a way that she didn't strictly understand.
When he lifted her easily in his arms, she gasped, but then out of instinct, she circled her hands behind his neck, clinging to him hard. She wasn't sure she had ever met a man who was so very strong. He felt as if she could build her world on him, let him carry her high up into the clouds without ever fearing he would drop her.
"Can I take you to your bedroom?" he asked, his eyes half-hooded with desire, and instinctively she nodded. He carried her with care to the bedroom, which was little more than an alcove separated from the rest of the flat with a fluttery silk curtain. He set her on the bed then laid down next to her, making the bed creak.
Penny started to apologize for how rickety the bed was, but then he began kissing her again, and she forgot about everything except the sweetness and kindness of his mouth, the gentle movement of his hands over her body.
"You feel so good," she found herself whispering. "I almost can't stand how good you feel..."
He chuckled, and she could hear a hoarseness in his voice that hadn't been there before. It was at once intoxicating and terrifying that he was just as affected as she was, that he could feel the same need that seemed to suffuse her body.
"I hope very well that you can stand it, because this is only where it starts."
He began kissing her again, but something in his words chilled her. She could feel her body's need for him, but there was fear underneath it as well. Penny tried to push the fear away. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy the sensation of his mouth kissing her neck with almost painstaking gentleness, to concentrate on the way his hands were stroking tenderly up and down her sides, but she couldn't.
"Penny?"
She was so consumed by her own thoughts that for a moment, she had no idea he was calling her name.
Then she looked up at him in surprise. "Y-yes?"
"You feel as if you were a thousand miles away when you should be right here," he said with a slight smile. "Is everything all right?"
"Of course it is," she said, smiling at him. There was something tremulous about her smile, and Ziyad seemed to see it. Hurriedly, before he could pull away, she reached up to touch his face gently. She watched as his eyes drifted closed and he nuzzled her hand.
"Please, I don't want this to stop..." she murmured, and he nodded.
"God help me, I don't want this to stop either..."
She smiled when he returned to kissing her. When he was laying gentle kisses on her mouth and her face and her surprisingly sensitive ears, it was fine. She could float on that pleasure and never think of anything else. Then his mouth and hands started to drift towards her body, and she felt that same trepidation rear its head.
Did he know before? Penny's mind questioned. Did he realize how...
She turned the thought away because she couldn’t even say the words to herself. No, there was no way that he could know that, none at all. She ignored the increasingly loud panic that was echoing in her mind in favor of focusing on the sensual pleasure he was giving her, but it was difficult, and to her dismay, she could feel herself stiffening up. Ziyad could feel it as well, and he pulled away to look at her.
"Bella, this needs to be something we both want," he said, and something about the gentleness in his voice made her heart ache. When he said it that way, it sounded like the most simple thing in the world.
"Ziyad, I do, I do want it..." she said miserably. For some reason, she was on the verge of tears.
Oh god, who knew that I would be so horrible at this before I even took off my clothes, she thought to herself.
Ziyad pulled her into his arms, and there was no sensuality in it this time, only comfort. He nuzzled at the top of her head, laughing softly.
"Good, that's a good thing," he said. "I was afraid I was misreading you completely. So you want to be in this bed with me, and I want to be here with you. What is getting in our way?"
The way he said it, as if it were a problem that they both shared rather than being one that she had to handle on her own, warmed her. It made her feel as if perhaps everything would be all right after all, and she took a deep breath. She buried her face in his chest and murmured her explanation to him.
Ziyad tilted his head at her. "Could you try that again, darling? I do not think that I heard you."
"I'm...I'm not experienced," she said miserably. "I mean...not...not at all when it comes to this..."
She looked up at him hopefully, praying that he wouldn't make her say it. Ziyad looked confused for another moment, but then his vision cleared, and she could see that he understood her meaning.
"You're a virgin?" he asked, and she winced. He didn't say it with the derision that she’d expected, but there was still a note of disbelief there.
"Do you see now why I have some issues with you saying that I'm so pretty?" she asked, smiling a little. "It's...pretty hard to believe when..."
"I am being entirely truthful when I call you bella," he said sternly. "And no, I do not find any of this hard to believe, except the fact where I feel amazingly lucky."
Penny had to replay his words in her mind before she understood what he said. "You feel lucky? Why in the world do you feel lucky?"
"Because someone who is entirely new to the arts of love still wants to jump into the unknown with me, wants to honor me with allowing me into her bed. That is, as long as that is still the case."
Oh it was, it certainly was...
"I do," she whispered. "But I feel as if...as if it's all too much right now. Like we've had dinner and touched and kissed, and now...do people just...jump in? Do we just start..."
She trailed off, making inarticulate gestures with her hands, but he seemed to understand what she was saying.
"Some people do," he said. "Some people enjoy that, and other people want nothing more. However, that isn't something that we have to do. I think I have a better idea. Why don't you get ready for bed?"
For a moment, Penny just stared at him, feeling oddly heartbroken. "Um, is that your way of saying that you want to leave? I mean, I guess I understand and you can totally
do that..."
Ziyad shook his head. "Not at all, bella. Leaving here is the last thing I want right now. No, what I want is to make you more comfortable. Tell me, what would you be doing right now if I wasn't here?"
"Well, probably getting ready for bed," she admitted. "I keep pretty early hours thanks to the school, and that usually means I'm out like a light by twelve..."
"Sounds good. So why don't you do that?"
She gave him another quizzical look, but the smile he gave her was encouraging at least. She smiled back at him a little and then did as he said.
It was perhaps slightly strange to check her locks, close her blinds and brush her teeth with someone else in the apartment, but by the time she reached for her ancient blue nightgown, she was almost comfortable with it. She and Ziyad talked about nothing much of importance, and when she showed up with her hair loose and brushed and her old nightgown on, he smiled at her.
"All right. I usually sleep naked. Will that be a problem?"
"Not at all, why would it be?" she asked without thinking, and he grinned.
"Good."
She still didn't quite get what he meant until he started stripping down, and then she couldn't help but let out a little squeak of shock.
He paused, bare chested, his hands still on the fasteners of his trousers, and glanced up at her. "Are you all right?"
"I...I don't think I’m quite ready for that," she said, her voice tiny.
Penny could have smacked herself. He was being so kind and good and patient, and here she was acting like some prim and proper Victorian maiden.
Despite having every right to be irritated with her lack of understanding, Ziyad only smiled a little. "All right, so no naked. I could sleep in my boxers, would that be all right?"
"You want...to sleep here?"
"Yes. We don't have to do anything besides sleep, not unless you want to. I know that I would very much like to wake up next to you tomorrow morning. Would you like that, Penny?"
"Yes," she whispered, and his smile was as radiant as the sun.