He tastes like us. Like shared breath and spent desire. Like something I want to carry with me, always. I melt into the kiss, my fingers weaving through his damp hair, curling at the nape of his neck. I tug, gently, grounding myself in him. He lets out the softest sound, almost a hum, as he deepens the kiss. It's slow, lingering, perfect. As though he's savoring the feel of me still trembling beneath him.
Then, with care that makes my throat close up, he pulls out of me. My body clenches instinctively, as though trying to hold on to him, refusing to let go. I feel the slow warmth of him slip free, slicking my thighs, and a soft shiver dances down my spine.I already miss the fullness, the connection, the sheer weight of him inside me.
But then he moves, shifting gently, and brings me with him. We end up tangled in the sheets, his chest to my back, one strong arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close like he can’t bear the distance either. My head rests against the curve of his shoulder, my palm splayed over his heart. The steady thud beneath my fingers grounds me.
He breathes out, slow and even, and lifts his free hand to sign.
Ti amo.
Three small movements. Three simple words. But they land so forcefully, like the first time he said them. I feel them echo in every part of me. Not just in the room, not just on my skin, but in the very center of my being. He’s not just saying it. He’s giving it.
I clutch him tighter, my body still vibrating with aftershocks, my heart loud and certain. There’s no room for doubt now. Not even a sliver. I believe him. With everything I have. With everything I am.
He’s given me so much. Not just his body, not just his protection. But himself. His secrets. His story. His heart. And yet I feel so small beside it. I want to give him something in return, something that carries the same weight, the same meaning. But what could ever be enough?
I’ve given him my body, my trust, my silence. But there’s still one part of me I’ve kept hidden—quiet and trembling and afraid. My love. The words I’ve never spoken. The feeling I’ve never signed.
It lives in me, full and terrifying. I don’t know how to give it without giving everything. But I want to try. So slowly, tentatively, I raise my hand.
My movements are slow and deliberate, almost hesitant. I’m afraid of what it will mean. Of what I’ll become if I give this over. But I do it anyway.
You’re mine.
The signs hang in the air between us like a vow. I feel my heart stutter, my breath catching in my throat. I don’t know if it’s too much. Too soon. But it’s the truth. And he deserves it.
When I glance up, his eyes are already on me. And they’re wide. Not with surprise, but with wonder. With something soft and unguarded, something affectionate and steady. Something like love. No. Not like. It is love. Undeniable, unwavering, burning steady in his gaze. I want to drown in it. I want to breathe it in like air.
He nods, slow and sure, and then he presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips linger there, unmoving, like a seal. Like a promise. My chest tightens. I close my eyes.
I burrow closer, tucking myself into the warmth of him, the weight of his arm drawing me tighter against his body. I let thesilence hold us. Not empty silence, but full, rich with meaning, thick with everything we can’t say out loud.
My eyes drift shut, my body settling. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Not just in his arms, but in what we’ve become. Whatever this is, wherever it’s going, I want it.
And in this moment, I know he’s mine. And I am his.
13
GIOVANNI
She is still asleep when I open my eyes.
Her breath is a soft rhythm against my chest, warm and even. One of her legs is hooked over mine, her thigh resting heavy, possessive. Her hand is splayed across my heart like it belongs there, like it always has.
The morning light filters in pale through the curtains, casting the room in a quiet hush. I stay still for a moment, not because I’m unsure, but because I want to memorize this. The silence. The closeness. The peace that comes from simply having her beside me.
I tighten my arm around her, pulling her closer. My mouth finds her hair, and I press a kiss there, lingering in the scent of her. In the warmth of everything I never knew I needed until she gave it to me.
Liliana.
Her name is a melody in my head. A tether I didn’t know I’d been missing until the night she looked at me like I was more than the violence I carry.
We’d gone at it thrice. Once beneath the pale hush of noon, again as the sun began to fall behind the hills, and then, at last, in the breathless hush of night. She hadn't tired. Hadn’t faltered. She’d given herself over and over, her shyness fading with every touch, every kiss, every gasp.
She’d taken, too. She'd been bold, needy, hungry. She’d let herself burn, and in doing so, set me alight.
I shift just enough to look down at her, careful not to wake her too fast. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks. And then, slowly, her eyes open.
The second she sees me, I feel it. That change. That unmistakable softness that settles over her features. Like she’s glad I’m still here. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
