Authors: April Emerson
“I’m going to head back to the hotel. I know that food isn’t something you’re thinking about right now, but please, make sure you eat.”
I smile. “You’re always so kind to me.”
He lets out a long breath as if something he wants to say is trying to make its way past his lips but fails. He shakes his head slightly and scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor before he looks back up and says, “Okay then.” He moves to leave.
I put my mother’s picture on the bed and stand. I won’t make this mistake again. I won’t spend another night without him. “No. I’m coming with you.”
He closes his eyes as though he’s relieved and then reaches for me. “Good. Let’s go.”
We walk down the stairs, my hand in his. When we get to the bottom, he lets go.
I need to tell my father I’m leaving. He’s far from alone here. In fact, I’m sure he wishes he could escape just as I’m about to.
I find him in the living room in his armchair, a glass of Scotch dangling from his hand, and his best friend Rick beside him.
“Dad, I’m going to get some air with Enzo. We may go for a drive. I’m not sure.” I try to sound nonchalant in order to buy myself an unlimited amount of time. The reality is I could say I’m on my way to the moon, and I’d get the same reaction from him.
“Go ahead, honey. I’m fine here. Don’t worry about me.”
I feel guilty, but I can’t stay in this house. It hurts too much, and it would hurt even more if I had to be away from Enzo again. Last night was torture.
When the front door closes behind us, I feel Enzo’s hand slip into mine again, and it’s both perfect and terrifying.
He pulls me along beside him, leading the way to his rental car. He moves as if he can’t wait to get away from here, and I feel the same.
What I truly can’t wait for is to be alone with him and to tell him what I feel for him in my heart. The truth I can’t ignore any longer—I’m in love.
The quiet car feels like a sanctuary. It’s afternoon, but the dark gray clouds and misty fog make it seem like night will be here sooner rather than later. It’s a blanket of darkness we can hide under, and I welcome it.
“Are you sure you can drive?” I ask.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
The engine revs as he accelerates, and we cruise down the road.
I watch my home get smaller and smaller in the side mirror and look up at the sky. There’s a small break in the clouds, and a few rays of sunshine are fighting through. Their sparkle is heightened by the bleak horizon. It’s a brief moment of beauty in the middle of something horrible, and I turn my head to look at the man beside me. He, too, is something wonderful in the middle of misery. Certainty in a sea of chaos.
When we arrive at Enzo’s hotel, I follow him through the hall to his room.
He slides the card key in the lock and walks inside.
When the door clicks shut behind me, I’m aware there’s no turning back. My life as I know it is over.
He sits on the edge of the bed, turns on the lamp, and picks up the room service menu.
I survey the room while he’s distracted. His suitcase in the corner, the freshly made bed.
He takes off his jacket and tie and tosses them on a chair. He slips off his shoes, revealing black, sock-covered feet. “What would you like to eat?”
Stefan would have just ordered for me, but Enzo asks. “I guess just a club sandwich or something if they have it.”
“Turkey club? Fries?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Enzo orders what I want and a BLT for himself. After he hangs up the phone, he relaxes on his pillow and stares at me.
The only sound I hear is my own heart beating in my chest. The room is silent.
He pats the bed beside him.
An invitation
.
I want to move closer to him as quickly as I can, but I slip off my heels, sinking three inches when I do so. Leaving my shoes at the foot of the bed, I sit near Enzo’s feet.
He looks at me as if he’s waiting for something.
I fidget.
“I’m sure you’re tired. Come here and lay down.” His voice is warm and irresistible.
I do as he says, crawling over the bed and placing my head on the soft pillow that rests beside his.
He rolls onto his side and tucks his hands under his pillow in the same way I have.
We are mirror images of each other. We lie there for a long time, not speaking, just studying one another. Occasionally, we smile. The expression comes and goes on each of our faces, melting into pensive consideration then rising again.
I marvel at him. His lips and the stubble that surrounds them. His muscular arms confined in his dress shirt. His gorgeous eyes. Being together and this close makes my fear start to fade.
I want to tell him what I’m feeling, but he speaks first.
“You were in my dream last night.”
I smile and feel myself flush. I’m both flattered and surprised. “What was I doing?”
“Well, we were walking together in the vineyard at home. Icarus was with us. It was very sunny, and I remember thinking your hair looked even prettier when the sun shone on it. You were very happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen you. I felt happy, too.” He sounds childlike as he recounts his dream of me. It’s adorable.
“Why were we so happy?”
He rolls over on to his back and looks at the ceiling. “I’m not sure. I remember feeling like there weren’t any other people around. Maybe that’s why. It was just me and you. Like it was when I visited Tuscany. No one else was there, and no one was going to come and find us. We were just walking in the sunshine. Together. Alone.”
He begins to nibble on his thumb as I’ve seen him do before, whether it’s because he’s thinking or because he’s nervous, I don’t know, but it makes my desire for him intensify and my stomach flutter. My need to touch him takes over.
I reach up and pull his hand away from his mouth and down to his side. I let my own hand rest on top of his. I stare at our fingers as they entwine. I feel him looking at me. “That sounds like a nice dream.” For some reason, I’m crying. Maybe because I know that dream will never come true. I don’t want him to see my tears.
“Cari . . .”
The sound of someone knocking on the door startles us.
Enzo jumps up off the bed and lets the waiter inside.
While Enzo’s back is turned, I wipe the tears from my eyes and take a deep breath.
When he returns, I make sure that I’m smiling.
We eat our food on the bed picnic-style—me in a black dress and Enzo in a rumpled suit—with a great deal of gusto and excitement.
“This is Lucy’s favorite.” He gestures to his BLT.
“You love her very much, don’t you?”
He nods, taking another large bite.
“Nonna, too. You love them both very deeply, Enzo. I can see it.”
“They’re my family. They’re my life. I’d be lost without them.”
I look down at my half-eaten sandwich with so many things coursing through me—sadness because my family is smaller by one, guilt because I’m being deceitful toward a member of the family that Enzo loves so much, defiance because I want Enzo even if it means that someone he loves has to get hurt, and defeat because it will ruin Enzo’s life if I tell him I love him. Enzo would
never
want to leave his family behind, and I could never ask him to. We would have no choice but to leave Ravine Creek if we wanted to be together, and that would devastate him. The honorable thing for me to do is to keep my declaration of love to myself. Telling him would be selfish, and he doesn’t deserve the pain my confession would bring. I can’t do that to him.
“Thank you for this. You were right. I needed to eat.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin.
Enzo picks french fries off my plate without asking, dipping them in my ketchup, and it doesn’t bother me one bit.
“Do you feel better?”
I speak from my heart, looking him right in the eye. “I always feel better when I’m with you.”
He smiles but says nothing.
I watch as he cleans up our dinner, rolling the room service cart into the hallway. I sit on the edge of the bed, my legs together and feet dangling. I watch him walk back to me. I feel like I should leave, but I know I’m not going to. I want him to come closer and he does.
He walks toward me until he’s standing right in front of me.
I look up at him, and then he drops to his knees. My gaze follows his, and with him kneeling before me, his eyes are even with mine.
He places his hands on the bed beside me.
Our bodies aren’t touching, but I want them to be. Pieces of me are screaming out for him to get closer. Desire runs hot in my blood. My heart pounds and my breath quickens, but all he does is look at me. I want him. I want to kiss him, but he just stares. Hypnotized, I can’t look away from him. The air between us is heavy, and the anticipation of what’s about to happen is suffocating and thrilling at the same time.
As if he can sense my poignant desire, he leans closer and presses his hips against my knees. “Spread your legs,” he whispers.
It’s not a demand or a question. It’s what we both want.
I do as he says and his waist fits between my knees. His suit pants brush against my stockings, making a rustling sound.
He touches my shoulders, my neck, and then my face. He wraps his lips around mine.
I tangle my legs around his waist and snake my arms around his neck as he kisses me. I pull his face closer.
His lips are soft but aggressive.
Our open mouths melt together, and I feel his hot breath fan against my cheek just before he pushes me down on to the bed. He’s hard where I’m soft and wet. I feel him through our clothing and chills ripple through me.
He slides up and down against me as we kiss, and we moan together at the pleasure and heat rising and growing between us. I want him so much, but he stops our kiss. With his arms at either side of my face, he looks down at me, but his hips keep moving. He keeps sliding and grinding between my legs, against my body where I most want to feel it.
He narrows his eyes as he moves, and inhales and then sighs.
I bring my hands up and run them over his jaw, through his hair, over his head, and down his shoulders. I begin to unbutton his shirt. I gasp as he rubs against me faster. I don’t care if it’s wrong. I want him. I pull his face toward mine so I can kiss him again.
Our tongues touch and withdraw as I hold his face, and he explores my body with his hands . . . my arms, my breasts, the back of my thighs, my neck. My skin knows that his hands are new and different. It’s exhilarating. We kiss as he moves against me, and I feel as though I’m on fire.
I push the straps of my dress down. I want to feel his body against mine, naked.
“Cari.” He stops me and strokes my cheek. “We can’t go back after this,” he warns.
“I know. I want you, Enzo.”
He removes my dress and descends on my exposed breasts. He tastes and adores. His clothes fall to the floor, and he presses his cock between my ready lips.
The first motion of him pushing inside me is a sensation that I have no words for. It makes me breathless, and yet I’m panting at the same time. I see everything I’m feeling reflected back in his eyes—thrilling need and rushing lust. It’s madness, and it’s perfect. Exquisite pleasure.
In the low light of the room, I watch his face as he moves inside me. His expression strains and relaxes. We’re looking right at each other. He’s finally making love to me.
This is
right
. It feels so right
.
“Enzo.” I call his name, and he lowers himself so our naked chests press together as he thrusts inside me and cradles my face, stroking my skin.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re real. It’s like you stepped out of my head. My picture of the woman I would want to be with. Your face, your taste, your voice, your heart. All of it is perfect. Perfect for me.”
I silence him with a kiss, but his words reach deep into my soul. So honest. So real. They’re words I was convinced I could only dream of hearing from him.
We kiss as we rock our bodies together and our movements become more frantic.
I want to tell him with my body what I can’t say out loud.
I love you, Enzo. I love you.
I grip his shoulders and push my hips back against him as he thrusts. We become damp with sweat as we work together toward the release we’re desperate to feel. I roll on top of him, and he caresses my breasts with his hands. Our movements are languid and indulgent, not rushed. I can see him growing more and more intense, as though he’s trying to hold himself back, but he can’t. He rolls me back on the bed and delivers a final barrage of deep and rough thrusts.
“Look at me,” he says, and I do.
It’s takes enormous effort for me to refrain from telling him what I feel as I look into his eyes. I admire the muscles in his chest and stomach. His tattoo. His mussed hair.
He’s gorgeous, and right now, he’s mine
.
My body clenches and releases around him as unintelligible sounds escape my lips. I look at him as he makes me come. I watch him do the same when he climaxes.