Page 89 of Arianna

I have never been precious to anyone except my nonna.

Huh.

After that, I got to bed and found sleep, and not one nightmare invaded my dreams.

No, because I dream of him.

My nightmare and my dream.

Sebastian.

* * *

BASTIAN

I watch her leave, and after what seems like an eternity, I can release the breath that was being held hostage in my lungs from the second she walked into the room.

The girl manages to suck all the air out of a room without realizing it.

There is a lot Arianna Parisi is oblivious to.

Such as the way my entire body becomes rigid when she is near, painfully aware of her presence.

The way everyone else ceases to exist when she is around, and how I cannot force my gaze to stray from her whenever she enters a room.

Suddenly, nothing seems as interesting as her.

Her thoughts.

Her breathtaking beauty.

Because as much as I find myself attracted to her body, her brain and her clever thoughts are what do it for me.

And her smiles.

Her smiles are rare, but when she smiles, fuck me, does she shine.

And when she frowns, I can’t stop looking at her, and when I should find her disobedience and sarcastic remarks distasteful and juvenile like I do with most people, I don’t with her.

I should, fuck, I should, but instead, I find her adorably amusing.

I am so fucked.

And the most irritating part?

My body seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to this girl.

Because even when I know, it is wrong, my body does not give a single fuck… it reacts.

Burning fire spreads through me, almost tormenting me when she challenges my every order or thought, and I don’t know if I should bend her over and spank that ass raw or punish that sweet plump mouth of hers.

“Fuck.” I breathe out. I have never, in my entire thirty-four years of life, been this confused by my own emotions.

I pride myself on my control.

With her, I lose all of it. All rational thoughts slip my mind, and all I can do is agonize over thoughts of her.

Sitting back on the sofa, I light a cigar. I inhale, filling my lungs full, one hand firmly gripping the empty bottle of whiskey and the other holding onto the queen on my chessboard.

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