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“Why? Your brother is not in town for you. He’s here for a wedding. That’s it. He’s a groomsman.”
Okay, that makes me feel better. It also points out how I don’t talk to Ciro that often. I have no idea about his summer plans.
“Okay. Well, that’s good.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Keeping his eyes on mine, I think he probably cares less these days. The verbal jabs I gave him must’ve stung.
“Do you need anything else, Micola?”
I shake my head, “No.”
“Okay.” He turns back into his bathroom.
“Wait. Um. Real quick. Thank you for the breakfasts and the lunches...well, all the meals…all are my favorites, and I do see the efforts in everything you’re doing, so thank you, Alex.”
I’m rambling. I’m fucking rambling. How did I morph back into twenty-four-year-old Micola? Maybe it’s because he hasn’t showered me with random texts about London’s nightlife or the change of weather or mundane things like that. No, he stopped after I cursed him out a couple days ago. It’s like he’s gone numb or doesn’t give a fuck anymore.
“Micola, there’s not a day since being here that I don’t try to heal a little bit of you. And I know that’s not how it works, but I regret all the pain I caused you. Been regretful for a very long time now. You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He returns back to his bathroom and closes the door.
Well, damn, his words just silenced my thoughts. My body’s on fire as I turn around. My mind should be delighted that he wasn’t so close when he told me that. But it isn’t. It wants him as much as my body does.God damn it!
I belt out of his room and rush back into mine. I leave my door open. I pace. I don’t know where to place myself. I want to cave in and jump his bones. How cliche this is, he says something sweet, and I melt, wanting to cum in his mouth all over again. My body throbs like a ticking time bomb, and if I don’t release in some way, I’m going to implode. Maybe he’s been too busy these couple of days, putting a spell on me. I’m so tender for him that it’s embarrassing.
His bathroom door opens, and he steps out in a nude-colored robe.He’s doing this on purpose. He catches my eye from bedroom to bedroom. He moves toward me, but he stops at his door. I latch onto his eyes one more time.
“Now you know how I feel.” He teases, sliding his door to close.
Childishly, I hop across the hall and slither between the door gap. My impulse screams desperation as he smirks with pleasure.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I can literally hear my own lust in that question.
He must think I’m crazy. I think I am.
He takes several steps back. His bare feet hug his cashmere shag rug. My toes feel like heaven on them.
Studying my face, he tsks-tsks, plopping his hands inside his robe’s pockets.
“I frankly find it downrighthothow bad you want me.” He bites down on his back teeth.
“Why do you say that?”
“That look. Same one you’d give me before I’d finger you from behind. Remember?”
Fuck his arrogance and his accuracy. I remain calm.
“Do me a favor, Micola.” He clears his throat. I watch as his Adam’s apple shifts.
“Prove to me you’re not wet.” He says.
“Excuse me?” I gasp.
“Oh, please.” Alex runs his hand through his hair and inches closer. “You came into my roomtwicewithout asking. Prove to me, right now, that you’re not wet.”
I swallow, knowing he’s fully aware of the deep longing in my throat, the desire behind these eyes, and the wetness between my thighs. It’s expanding right at this very moment.
¨How do I prove that?¨
