Alessandra
Quinn wraps his hand around mine as he leads me down the hall to our hotel room. There wouldn’t be privacy in my flat with Flora, so I’m grateful he’s brought me here. Plus, the idea of Quinn and Flora inhabiting the same space honestly makes me want to laugh. They are creatures from very different realities.
Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I can say without a doubt that I prefer this reality. But is this real? I squeeze his hand, checking. A firm squeeze back quashes any doubts I have.
The quiet and contemplative taxi ride gave me plenty of time to overthink this moment, to change my mind and keep the divide between my life in the States and my life here clear. But with the lovely low lighting of this hotel and the smell of fragrant wines wafting through the air, I can’t think of any reason why I should differentiate the two. After all, Quinn is here in Italy with me. For me. Even if it kills me all over again when he leaves, I need tonight. Need to feel whole again, desperately. And I do in his presence.
We take our time locating his room, wandering the halls in a comfortable silence that anticipates a full night of talking and reconnecting. There is no rush, there are no obligations. Once we enter this room, we step into the bubble of our shared bliss. I have no intention of leaving that bubble anytime soon, and by the way he leisurely runs his thumb across the back of my hand, I know he’s on the same page as me.
The door clicks behind us as I take in the room before me. Curtains drape elegantly around a large window, teasing me with the promise of a view. I smile broadly and look at Quinn, knowing that my excitement must be written all over my face. He gives my hand another small squeeze before letting go. I walk to the window and pull the curtains aside. The sight before me is everything I dreamed of when I was back home. It was every magazine and brochure cut-out I tucked away for my dream life, my dream job, in this beautiful city.
A small balcony looks over the warmly lit square on which this little gem is located. People wander the streets, playing instruments, laughing, and chatting. I crack open the window a few inches, and the cool night air tickles my cheeks. I breathe it in, and a sense of calm washes over me like it hasn’t since I arrived in this foreign country. I feel so safe in this hotel room, the world opening up again before me. Here, taking in this amazing view, there are no lousy stipends, no peanut-butter-thieving roommates. There’s just me, this view, and-
Quinn leans against a wall behind me. I turn to him, sensing his distance.
“What are you doing over there?” I ask, curious.
He smiles. “Taking it all in.” He’s clearly staring at me, not the view.
I blush automatically and laugh at the cheesy line. He’s as romantic as ever. That will never get old. I watch as he runs his thumb over the cork of a new bottle of champagne, a silent invitation to drink with him.
“Compliments of the hotel.” He grins, his eyes sparkling. They’re so soft and familiar, like a blanket I want to never, ever fall from my shoulders.
“Come here,” I say, urgently reaching for his free hand. “And bring that with you.” I eye the champagne with a smirk.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with mock seriousness.
I love that he plays these games with me. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him. It’s only been two weeks since I last saw him, but it could have been lifetimes, I’ve missed him so much.
My heart swells as Quinn’s hand finds mine, closing the distance between us. I pull him to me, wanting to occupy the same space as him. His eyes are darker now, glittering in the evening glow of the square. I want to kiss him. I run my thumb across his knuckles, lifting my other hand to his perfectly carved jawline. Just one little kiss-
“Shall we take a moment first?” He stops me, catching my fingers against his lips with a gentle kiss. Sensing my reaction, he says, “I only think that if you kiss me, I may not be able to stop. I’d like to hear about your life here first. You need your mouth for speaking. You see my conundrum?”
“I do.” I nod my head. “And I would agree, but I have yet to give you a proper welcome to Italy.” I smile, pulling him back in for that exquisite taste before he can resist me any longer.
My lips press against him with a relief that I can’t describe. He sighs against them. I know he feels it, too, the way his mouth melts into mine. I hear the soft thump of the champagne bottle as he tosses it on the bed.
Now both of his hands are free. They immediately find the contours of my cheeks, holding my face to his as if I’m a precious treasure. The breeze from the open window wraps around us in a cool embrace, inviting us to move even closer as we yearn for the refuge of each other’s arms. The feeling is sublime.
We break apart, forehead resting against forehead, soul against soul.
“There. Do you feel welcomed?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.
He runs his thumb across my lower lip. “I’m fairly new to the area. I may need more reacquainting.”
Quinn captures my mouth in another kiss, this time demanding my lips to part beneath his. His tongue flicks forward to meet mine in a hungry search. It’s obvious that we both have two weeks of pent-up longing, two weeks of missing this, and put every emotion, every moment of desire for the other, into this kiss. His breath is hot on my mouth, and I moan into the kiss. I dig my fingers into his firm shoulders, pulling myself as close to him as I can manage.
“God, Alessandra,” he says softly against the corner of my mouth, giving me a moment to catch my breath. He kisses a trail down the side of my neck, dipping me back for more leverage. I let him hold me up, knowing that even if I were to fall completely limp to his need, he wouldn’t let me go. He’d catch me and keep me, protect me from everything outside of this bubble we’ve surrounded ourselves with.
I breathe the scent of his hair in as he kisses down my sternum. This is real, isn’t it? Quinn is really here, in Italy, showering me with the most adoring kisses. I have an exquisite view from the window before us, but it doesn’t compare to the sensations of smell, touch, and taste I have with this man in my arms. Nothing can compare.
Quinn is on his knees before me, gently kissing down my body. I’m drunk with want, raking my hands through his thick hair and down his back. He runs his hands across every surface of me. From my arms to my back, my waist to my thighs. I lower myself to my knees, drawing his face to meet mine for another needy kiss. Together, we unbutton each other’s clothes. . . my fingers deftly undoing his pants, and his gently pulling down the zipper of my dress.
I unbuckle his pants while sucking on his lower lip, drawing it between my teeth. He moans from deep in his throat, his desire for me evident by the firm, hard cock now throbbing in my hand. His hands reach deftly up under my dress, finding the silken edge of my panties and pulling them down.
We shed the rest of our clothes and fall onto the bed.