She had left the kitchen to avoid saying anything she would have regretted: her angry side would sure have yelled her whole frustration; her heart just wanted to say she feel something strong for him and just hoped he felt the same. It was risky: she couldn’t confess she remembered everything. Going out had looked as the best solution. Too late she had realized that is was raining: first she had repaired under the roofing, but there was too much wind and she had got wet despite of it. She had advanced, her head raised up, letting the water slip on her. The memories had flown, taking her back under the shower with him.
She trembled: she felt tense and angry. She didn’t even hear the door opening. Alessandro grabbed her from behind:
“Are you crazy or what? You’ll take a damn!”
She was draped in his arms. She felt a warming flame inside and whispered: “I am not. I just love rain”.
He whispered, his voice so low she barely understand: “I love too much stuff…”
She turned: her face was wet with rain. Her eyes were shining:
“We can’t last…”
Alessandro stood still. He closed his eyes. It was a good time to quit, to stop everything, to put an end to that story. He just had to say yes and let her go. He pursed, touching her skin with his lips.
“You can’t know that, Chiara. You can’t!”
She turned in his arms. She stared into his eyes. She couldn’t tell him, but she knew too much, she knew everything. There was no hope for them. What did he feel? They were just physically attracted. It wasn’t enough.
Their lips touched and his hot tongue entered her mouth. They kissed with anger, pain, joy, and passion. His fingers stumbled in her wet hair, like in the shower, again. She had no time to indulge in her thoughts. His body was against hers. She felt his excitement pressing against her pelvis. Wet jeans clung on her. He had worn a suit for lunch, but he was soaking wet. His skin burned and stung. He felt uncomfortable and overtaken by frustration, by the desire to feel her skin against his. His hands were on her face, playing with her lips.
He held her close. Damn it. She was a siren. He felt shameless. She was staring at him with her green eyes, hesitant. Her hand was trembling. Her gaze was steady. They were suspended in time, and thunders and rain were their soundtrack.
“Ale, take off my clothes. Take of your too. No questions, no worries. Kiss me, touch me.” Her voice was desperate. Alessandro closed his eyes, touching her hand, palm to palm:
“Chiara, what do you want? What is this?”
Alessandro followed Chiara’s hand with his one; Chiara took it and drew it next to her face:
“What I asked, no more or less!”
He closed his eyes. She didn’t know what she said. She didn’t remember anything. She would have regretted. Her memories would have come back. He was just a man. When she leaned toward him, pulling her own T-shirt in a furious gesture he had seen her bra attached to her skin. It had become transparent. She slipped off her shirt and touched his bare chest, stroking it slowly. Alessandro tickled her nipples with his thumbs, in a circular motion. She shivered and held her breath.
She lifted her face to the water coming down, opening her mouth in a silent scream.
“Come in!”
He lifted her. Suddenly, she screamed in surprise; then she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling his scent. He held her against his body as solid as a rock. She could feel his heart thumping in her ears. Alessandro turned up the heat. He watched her breasts. He wanted to touch them, taste them and lick them. They soared toward his lips, asking him to be loved, tasted, and covered with kisses. But he stopped: with her still in his arms, her eyes on his. He watched her again without touching her, without kissing her. He knew that as soon as he did he could not contain himself. He clenched his jaw, raising his chin. He moved down the hall: she whispered:
“What are you doing?”
In his arms, she felt safe, warm, protected. She closed her eyes. She was rocking in an illusion. Where was the woman who had always kept distant colleagues? Now, she was in the arms of him. She wanted to let it go, for once, only one, taking advantage of the fact that he still thought she was victim of amnesia; he was counting on the lie he had told her about their friendship with benefits. She wanted to exploit the situation even for that. She wanted to taste freedom, because once destiny had revealed his cards, it would be all over.
“I’ll take you to bed!”
For a moment, she thought and feared that he would have thrown her on bed and left her there alone. Maybe he should have done that; instead he kicked the door and opened it. The door slammed violently and bounced back. He leaned her on the bed.
“It’s getting wet,” said Chiara, sounding hoarse.
He stared at her; his look was as intense as she had never seen:
“As many other things. Bed is the least one!”
He captured her lips in a kiss. It was sweet, but soon it became more and more intense. She sighed. He sank his tongue in and out from her mouth. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. She moaned, while he went inside and came back out. He slipped slowly on her body; his eyes were full of high burning flames.
Yet, her body was cold, but hot under his fingers. He felt in heaven, burning like hell. It wasn’t enough. He was starving for her. He went down with his tongue on her waist, caressing her, staring at her with lust. A demon had released inside him. The truth was that he knew it was quite over: she would have recovered her memory. He had to close the games.
Chiara looked at him with half-closed eyelids:
“Your hands are strong and beautiful…” She paused, raising her pelvis. His lips went down on her crotch.
“Okay, Chiara, withdraw your statement. It’s not getting over.”
He didn’t know why he insisted on that point, while he was the first to tell that it would have come to an end. There was no future. She was there for him, but not in the sense that he wanted. He had built armour in the last months, but she had forced her way into it. Chiara shook her head. She arched, moving her pelvis. She gritted her teeth:
“I don’t ever withdraw my sentences!”
Alessandro swore: “You, damned diehard!” He wondered what he was there with her. Why he persisted in looking for her, believing and hoping for a future. They were on opposite sides at that point, weren’t they? He lost reason and wisdom. She could kill him. He wanted to protect her!
He stared into her eyes, falling into the flames of desire. He was afraid. He was anger with her, against the whole world, against the situation. She challenged him, moving her tongue on his lips, moving her hands on his body. Passion between them blazed like nothing, but there was something more. It was extreme, dense. She stared into his eyes, inviting to dare:
“Chiara, let’s stop now, okay?”
She shook her head.
“I want to go through with it. Maybe it will help me to remember!”
Perfect. If she wanted to stop him, that was the right way. He didn’t want help her to remember. Then she stared into his eyes, stroking his lips. His hands were becoming safer with each passing second. They were more voracious. She moved under him with sensual movements and he was up to surrender.
“Chiara, I’m going easy. I beg you. Don’t move!”
She stared at him. She was sure. She had to decide. What she was going to say, it would have marked the boundary between what she had to and what she wanted to do, between duty and pleasure. She could tell him to stop, and he would have stopped. She could pretend to be ill, and he would have stopped. Or she could put aside everything and dedicate to herself, for once, taking no remorse.
“I want everything, Alessandro. I want unbridled passion. I want to see the side that you’ve always hidden in these two days!”
He winced, when she said that, though she was referring only to the last two days.
Chiara had dreamed Alessandro in those days. Now she remembered everything about him. Yet, her imagination was overtaken by reality every time. She
ignited the passion. She teased him now… he leaned toward her, caressing her. He was lying on her, capturing her lips again, in a kiss act to devour her soul. He went down with his lips on her throat, licking it.
He watched her a few moments. She was lying on the quilt. Her hair spread around her face, like a frame. Chiara moved, caressing him back, brushing his navel. She felt his manliness. Alessandro held her hands on his belt and went down with his tongue between her legs. She spread them in an explicit invitation. She needed to feel him inside her. She had to vent internal tension that was expanding in her. A languor glowing was shaking her.
Alessandro had a different idea. He pushed back her ankles, making her adhere with her back against the mattress. She had legs apart and bent. Then, with one hand, he began to stroke her ankles, and followed with his mouth the trail drawn by his hands, more and more. She swayed while his hands got near to the point between her legs, then he put his hands under her buttocks, lifting her and penetrated her with his tongue and his fingers.
She trembled violently. The tension grew high. She stroked his chest, then hers own. His gaze became deeper. He liked it and he liked her collaboration.
She touched herself, brushing her own breasts, throwing back her hand and screaming out. He closed his eyes. He seconded her request: he raised her pelvis, entering into her, while his lips continued to tickle her nipples. Alessandro and Chiara rolled over in bed. Her hands were decided when she was stroking him, while they were touching his chest, while they were tickling his nipples. Alessandro lifted her grabbing her buttocks, again, meeting her with his manliness.
Chiara couldn’t think. She couldn’t think anything except him inside her. When she had the idea to get invitation to his house, she was set to thinking about how to looking for documents and only that.
Now, she couldn’t formulate any coherent thought. He filled her; he moved into her with thrusts fast and accurate.
“Ale!”
He nodded, whispering:
“Come, come for me, little viper!”
Chiara had lost all touch with reality. He watched her face changing expression, just before the climax. In his eyes there was greed, anger, sorrow and love. In her eyes there was pain, doubt and passion. He raised both her arms. He had lost all touch with reality. He was screaming: “I love you” in his mind. He didn’t want to do it. She was clay between his fingers.
He fiddled with her shirt, rolling it up. She stared into his eyes; he was there still, with her shirt rolled up like a rope in his hand. She swallowed. She could imagine his brain working. She brushed his hand. Then she brushed his shirt. He was so handsome. He seemed to waver, and then he lowered his face. He started to move his hand away, but she stopped him:
“Do you want to tie me up, right?”
Alessandro inhaled. Yes, the idea had occurred to his mind, but he didn’t know which limit she wanted to establish. He didn’t want to take her to his home. He didn’t want to have bounds with her. He smiled - well - he wanted to have bondage. He stared at her black hair and her green eyes. He nodded:
“Do it!” Chiara was giving a kick to all her principles. She inspired… would she have regretted?
He leaned toward her, tying her with the shirt, then he got brushing her face. Lips to lips, he whispered:
“Maybe next time you’ll remember you mustn’t scratch me!”
Chiara blushed. She had scratched him a little before; it was because of the pleasure he had caused her:
“Ale…”
“I won’t hurt you. You did!”
She grinned, while he lied down on her:
“How are you doing with your hands tied?” A smile lit up his face, making it handsome.
“I hope so!”
He laughed, throwing his head back. He had a bright and warm laugh. His eyes became serious:
“Don’t you trust me?” Good, it was a good question, thought Chiara, then she stared at him. They were talking about their relationship?
“I want you!”
“Well, I’ll enter into you. I’ll make you scream. With no hands… You’ll see!”
His mouth took her to heaven, sucking gently her lip, slipping inside her mouth, playing with her tongue. She gasped when she felt him pressing between her thighs. He was determined, strong. His lips were on her throat, on her breasts, while he was teasing between her legs, touching her and retreating. Then he was coming back and just outside. It was a slow torture.
She moved her pelvis. She moved her legs. He closed his eyes. He shook his head. He wanted to heel her hands:
“Chiara…” She nodded. He untied her hands a few moments before he penetrate her.
Chiara slipped quickly her hands in his hair. She didn’t want to play anymore. She wanted to enjoy it. She wanted to forget what he could have been.
They reached the climax together; exhausted, they collapsed one other’s arms, their legs entwined. Her face was resting on his chest.
Chapter 38
The sound of some voices coming from the landing woke up Chiara. She stirred slowly. Alessandro was sleeping. He looked quiet. Chiara stared at him. How did they pass from the rain to the chains? Where was her determination not to hive in to his perverse fascination? Where were her moral principles? If he was corrupt, he was the enemy. Lost in thoughts, she moved, staring at him. Barefoot, she wandered into the room, opening the drawers. Nothing. There was nothing. She grabbed his shirt. She dressed it, moving toward the study. She moved the papers. She put them back in place, after photographing all. The case wasn’t there. In return, she saw some photos similar to those she had seen in Amina’s restaurant. What did they mean? Then she saw some notes. It was a floor plan of the conference. She moved it, lifting it. It bore inscriptions in Arabic. She copied them quickly. She leaned against the desk: she felt dizzy. Her heart jumped in her chest. What if he had found her? She stopped and listened: then, she continued to look around. She took pictures of everything she found interesting then she turned off the phone. She went back to the bedroom. She paused in the doorway; then she went to bed and laid down beside him. She fell asleep soon.
Alessandro woke up, feeling her weight on his back. He turned towards her. Her black hair were scattered on the pillow. He closed his eyes, breathing. He wiggled out of her embrace and slipped out of the bed. He went to the bathroom, looking ad her pants and her bag. He turned around. She was still asleep. He grabbed the bag, opening it. He had to understand and to know if she had any evidence: maybe she had some notes with her. He found nothing. Alessandro muttered. There was a pen drive, but he didn’t dare. There was no time to open his computers and insert it… what if she woke up?
He felt the phone vibrate. It was Tom, damn! Chiara was still sleeping in the bed. He moved to the terrace. A thousand memories bound him:
“Hi, Tom. Yes, I can’t talk now. Listen, I’m working for you and you are working for me. You have to leave me a little time more!” He looked out to observe the deserted corridor:
“Tom, you know that I’ll do everything. Yes, okay, now I have to go!”
He had heard some movement. He hurried to the bedroom. The rain had stopped to fall. The air smelled of wet meadows. He leaned against the sofa, turning the TV on. He turned around after ten minutes, hearing light steps:
“Hi!”
“Ale, I…” Chiara was embarrassed. Now, that all was quiet, she felt uncomfortable. She liked him. He interested her. He involved her. Maybe, she should confess everything, ask him and give up the case. Then her gaze chained to his. He had a thousand shadows in the eye. He just stared at her in those green eyes so intense. She had wavy hair uncombed, she was barefoot and she wore a T-shirt. He had to confess everything, leaving her free to decide which side to take. He thought back to the message of his brother, Tom, that text he had cancelled quickly:
“You’re in love with her. Remember to whom you ought your loyalty!”
She spoke in a hoarse voice:
“What are you looking to?”
>
“I don’t know. I woke up now. Do you want to see something in particular?”
Chiara grinned. They looked like a pair of old spouses. In other circumstances, she would have also found the situation amusing. Now, it wasn’t. She shook her head:
“If you don’t mind, I would like to go out and visit the town. Maybe my memories will come back!”
He nodded:
“It’s okay. Just remember that you’re in danger. I don’t know if this is a good idea!” She stopped and turned to him:
“With you I shouldn’t be in danger, should I?” She waited for an answer with the breath in her throat. Her heart was palpitating. He nodded, approaching her, staring into her eyes:
“You’re safe with me!” She looked at him. He looked so sincere: was he such an expert liar? Chiara sighed:
“Then, let’s go!”
She needed to get out from there. She gasped when he took her hand. His grip was warm, safe, firm.
Chiara walked hand in hand with him, to the main street. The street was busy, full of people. She felt the tension slip away, as they stopped to get an ice cream, laughing and joking. First they were tense and silent, then, slowly, thanks to a few jokes, the tension was gone. He never gave up her hand. His fingers had moved. She had responded to the caresses. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to pull the plug. Inside herself, she was increasingly convinced that he was innocent. There had to be another explanation. She would have found that. As they walked, side-by-side, she saw the admiring glances some girls addressed him. She felt flattered. He was there with her. She watched his profile: he was handsome, charming.
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 17