stop
me.
My senses awaken. All of a sudden, I smell
the humid grass beneath us; I hear the people
around us laughing and talking; I feel the brush
of the sun against my skin.
I press my body against Eagan's harder still,
for I realize that his heat is melting the icy
fingers underneath my skin.
When Eagan breaks our kiss, I utter a needy
sound. Eagan laughs softly. I gaze at his
handsome face and I see tears and bliss in his
eyes.
“Did you listen carefully?” He asks.
I nod. “You're in love with me.” Immense
elation pervades my words.
Eagan feathers kisses all over my face. My
skin hums. I want more, so I press into him. He
groans. This time, however, his arms arrest my
movements.
“Kiss me again,” I demand.
“We are in a very public place,” he murmurs
against my lips.
“Oh.”
We find a stone bench bathed with sunlight. I
sit on Eagan's lap and curl up against his chest.
His arms hold me close; a familiar cradle of
velvet and steel.
Eagan nuzzles my hair and draws me in.
“I have a story to tell you,” he says.
“I'm listening.”
“Four years ago, when you kissed me, I was
awake. Not opening my eyes. Letting you go.
Those were hardest things I've ever done. I felt
guilty. I enjoyed so much your kiss. You tasted
so good. I was aroused. I was confused. You
were my best friend. And you were
inappropriately young. But I wanted you. That's
why I let you walk away. That's why I didn't
pursue you. During the following years, I tried
to forget about your soft lips. About your hard
nipples pressed to my arms. About your sounds
of pleasure. It was impossible. The taste of the
other women felt all wrong. Then David died
and everything changed. But I kept thinking
about you. I knew I had to have you. But I had
to do it right. You weren't just a crush. You
were my love. I studied really hard. I wanted
to be the best in my class. After my graduation
some friends put me in contact with the
people I'm working for here, in Rome. Then I
searched for the perfect apartment to share
with you. Small, but comfortable. There was
an obstacle, though. I knew you were trying to
bury your feelings for me. So I had to rouse
them again. I know I've been torturing you,
playing with your desires. But I don't regret
doing it, because now you're mine.”
A jolt of spring wind surges and shrouds us.
It creates a warm cocoon filled with scents;
among them, a touch of cinnamon.
Eagan's soft words sound like a sweet
lullaby. I drink them in and let them satiate
my need.
I sit up and stroke his lovely features with
my fingertips. As he closes his eyes, I nibble at
his rough jaw, his chin, and then I tease his
lips with the tip of my tongue. Eagan heaves a
sigh full of bliss.
“I've always been yours, Eagan. I love you.”
“I love you too, Brina.”
I've missed those words so much, that upon
hearing them my heart leaps painfully. A wail
escapes my lips.
Eagan grips the back of my neck, his fingers
tangle in my inky strands. Then he kisses me
with fierce longing.
I curl my arms around his strong neck and I
let him heal me.
“You didn't take your car?” Eagan asks me, as I
grasp his hand and I lead him toward the
subway entrance.
“No.”
He squeezes my fingers and I smile up at
him. His expression makes my knees weak; it's
so full of gratitude and relief that I almost
promise him never to drive again.
“Will you tell me more about David?” I
demand.
“Yes. But not today.” He responds gravely.
The Roman public transportation is
extremely slow. However, today I don't mind,
for I sit on Eagan's lap during the entire
journey. In between tender kisses, I tell him
about Clémentine and the “resurrection
party”.
We stop briefly at his place, so that he can
pack an overnight bag. Then we catch two
more buses to get to my apartment. Finally,
we stop at Clém's favorite Rosticceria , which is
close to where we live, to buy her
me.
My senses awaken. All of a sudden, I smell
the humid grass beneath us; I hear the people
around us laughing and talking; I feel the brush
of the sun against my skin.
I press my body against Eagan's harder still,
for I realize that his heat is melting the icy
fingers underneath my skin.
When Eagan breaks our kiss, I utter a needy
sound. Eagan laughs softly. I gaze at his
handsome face and I see tears and bliss in his
eyes.
“Did you listen carefully?” He asks.
I nod. “You're in love with me.” Immense
elation pervades my words.
Eagan feathers kisses all over my face. My
skin hums. I want more, so I press into him. He
groans. This time, however, his arms arrest my
movements.
“Kiss me again,” I demand.
“We are in a very public place,” he murmurs
against my lips.
“Oh.”
We find a stone bench bathed with sunlight. I
sit on Eagan's lap and curl up against his chest.
His arms hold me close; a familiar cradle of
velvet and steel.
Eagan nuzzles my hair and draws me in.
“I have a story to tell you,” he says.
“I'm listening.”
“Four years ago, when you kissed me, I was
awake. Not opening my eyes. Letting you go.
Those were hardest things I've ever done. I felt
guilty. I enjoyed so much your kiss. You tasted
so good. I was aroused. I was confused. You
were my best friend. And you were
inappropriately young. But I wanted you. That's
why I let you walk away. That's why I didn't
pursue you. During the following years, I tried
to forget about your soft lips. About your hard
nipples pressed to my arms. About your sounds
of pleasure. It was impossible. The taste of the
other women felt all wrong. Then David died
and everything changed. But I kept thinking
about you. I knew I had to have you. But I had
to do it right. You weren't just a crush. You
were my love. I studied really hard. I wanted
to be the best in my class. After my graduation
some friends put me in contact with the
people I'm working for here, in Rome. Then I
searched for the perfect apartment to share
with you. Small, but comfortable. There was
an obstacle, though. I knew you were trying to
bury your feelings for me. So I had to rouse
them again. I know I've been torturing you,
playing with your desires. But I don't regret
doing it, because now you're mine.”
A jolt of spring wind surges and shrouds us.
It creates a warm cocoon filled with scents;
among them, a touch of cinnamon.
Eagan's soft words sound like a sweet
lullaby. I drink them in and let them satiate
my need.
I sit up and stroke his lovely features with
my fingertips. As he closes his eyes, I nibble at
his rough jaw, his chin, and then I tease his
lips with the tip of my tongue. Eagan heaves a
sigh full of bliss.
“I've always been yours, Eagan. I love you.”
“I love you too, Brina.”
I've missed those words so much, that upon
hearing them my heart leaps painfully. A wail
escapes my lips.
Eagan grips the back of my neck, his fingers
tangle in my inky strands. Then he kisses me
with fierce longing.
I curl my arms around his strong neck and I
let him heal me.
“You didn't take your car?” Eagan asks me, as I
grasp his hand and I lead him toward the
subway entrance.
“No.”
He squeezes my fingers and I smile up at
him. His expression makes my knees weak; it's
so full of gratitude and relief that I almost
promise him never to drive again.
“Will you tell me more about David?” I
demand.
“Yes. But not today.” He responds gravely.
The Roman public transportation is
extremely slow. However, today I don't mind,
for I sit on Eagan's lap during the entire
journey. In between tender kisses, I tell him
about Clémentine and the “resurrection
party”.
We stop briefly at his place, so that he can
pack an overnight bag. Then we catch two
more buses to get to my apartment. Finally,
we stop at Clém's favorite Rosticceria , which is
close to where we live, to buy her
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