Page 13 of Rome with Dad's Best Friend

I put the phone down and turn my head to look at her, to watch her hooded eyes traveling over my body, up to my mouth. She meets my eyes and I see my signal, the message I’ve been waiting for, the look in her eyes that begs me to claim her now.

It’s time to make her mine. The moment I’ve been waiting for since I first saw her in the street and knew who she was. I reach out without hesitation to place my hand along her jaw, the side of her face, lifting her towards me, taking her into my control. A moment later my mouth follows, covering hers, taking her into a deep kiss that makes her groan deep in her chest.

There’s no more hesitation. I deepen our kiss even further, flicking my tongue across her lips. They part with a sigh, and then our tongues are pressing together, tangling, dancing in a dance that our bodies know without instruction.

My hands move, down across her shoulders, caressing, squeezing. They travel from her arms down to her waist, where I grip her tightly, glorying in the feel of her under my hands. She’s everything I had imagined and more, and I can’t get enough. A fury of desire takes over my movements and I shift our bodies, laying her back down onto the bed, crawling over the top of her. My body over hers is almost enough to take my control away, and I slip my hands under the fabric of her dress, traveling up her thighs until I reach the fabric of her panties.

Hannah gasps into my mouth, and I draw back slightly, enough to check that she’s alright. I look into her eyes and see something I hadn’t expected to see, fear. It’s enough to stop me in my tracks, my hands hesitating right on the verge of gripping the sides of her panties to pull them down and out of the way, my hardness is forgotten for a moment even as it presses almost painfully against the clothes keeping it contained.

“What is it?” I ask, searching her face for answers.

“It’s nothing,” Hannah says, far too quickly. Then, because she must know it sounded like a lie, she continues. “I just – I’ve never – I haven’t done this before. I… I’m a virgin.”

I freeze completely, staring down at her in shock. In all of the things, she could have said, for some reason I never expected it to be that.

And the knock at the door is so loud I almost jump, accompanied by the shouted announcement that our room service is here.Chapter TwelveHannahI shouldn’t have said anything. I know I shouldn’t have admitted it.

I know, because even though honesty felt like the right thing at the moment, I’m regretting it completely. The way Marco froze over me, the shock in his expression – I know that what I said immediately turned him off, and now he wants nothing to do with me. Which is awkward, because now our drinks are here.

As he gets off me and goes to the door, I feel a deep crimson blush filling my cheeks, the shame of the moment. I can’t believe I admitted how inexperienced I am. What was I thinking? Now he remembers that I’m just a kid compared to him, who’s hardly seen or done anything in her life. Now he’s going to back out, make an excuse and leave, I just know it. How can I blame him?

I frantically tug my dress back down over my legs, covering myself up. The last thing I need is to still be exposed to his eyes when he comes back. I sit up, flattening my hair, taking a more appropriate seated position, turning my body to the front rather than towards where he was sitting. Marco sounds pleasant enough as he accepts the room service, but inside I’m dying, waiting for him to come back and make his excuses.

He closes the door and sets a small round tray, with both of our drinks on top, on the dresser beside the bed, pushing the phone aside. Then he sits, exactly where he was before. I guess he’s going to try and let me down gently. I was expecting him to just rush out and leave. I don’t know which is worse.

“Hannah,” he says, gently, so gently that I want to cry.

“It’s alright,” I blurt out, unable to bear it. “You want to go now. I understand. You don’t have to make excuses.”

There’s a pause, silence between us. When Marco doesn’t reply or move, the wait is so torturous that I manage to drag my ashamed eyes from the carpet up to look at him. What surprises me is that he doesn’t look angry, or awkward, or embarrassed. He’s simply smiling gently.

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