Luca kissed me back each and every time but he never asked for more, never demanded it. His mouth was firm but soft at the same time. I could taste the salt of his tears on his lips. It should've been enough to remind me that I hadn't come here for any of this, but I couldn’t make myself stop. I'd never wanted to physically be with a man, even the few I’d been attracted to in the past couple of years. But I understood want because I wanted other things. Freedom, family, drugs… the want I was experiencing now was the same, yet different. And that was the problem.
It was all too confusing and new and exciting. It was something that would be beyond my control, and my entire life for the last two years had been about control, about fighting my desires and needs, ignoring them.
The idea of losing control was enough to have me pulling back. I wasn't sure if I was glad or disappointed that Luca's mouth didn't follow mine. I pressed my forehead against his and tried to catch my breath. The fact that I even was out of breath because of a few chaste kisses was mind-blowing. At some point, my fingers had threaded through Luca's hair and I was actually hanging on to him that way. My muscles felt like they were at war with one another as I fought the urge to pull him closer and cover his mouth with mine again.
"Luca," was all I managed to get out. How was that one word, his name, supposed to explain to him why I’d stopped? And why I hadn't wanted to.
"It's okay, Remy," was his response. His nose nuzzled mine and the gentle move almost threatened to have me in tears again. "Why don’t you go to bed?" he offered. If he was irritated by my reversal, he didn't show it.
"What about you? Are you coming?" As soon as I heard my own words, I felt the heat in my cheeks. "Coming to bed… I mean, going to bed," I quickly amended. "Are you going to bed?" I swore I heard him chuckle softly right before his lips skimmed my temple.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I'll be right behind you."
Even though I'd been the one to make the clarification about separate beds, I found myself wishing that maybe I hadn't made the distinction. Maybe by some miracle, we could've shared a bed and I would have gotten to feel his arms around me all night.
Even if there was no way I was ready for that.
I mentally shook my head at myself because I couldn't seem to get my thoughts straight. There was absolutely no reason to be jittery or nervous. I’d been around Luca long enough to know that he wouldn’t do anything without my permission.
But maybe that was the problem. I wanted to give him that permission. I didn't care if it meant I'd have to pretend to like what he was doing to me or I’d be forced to go to that place in my mind where nothing was happening at all.
If it meant I could get to that part afterwards that I'd seen in movies and on television where the worst was over and there were just those few moments of gentle contact, I could probably go through with it. Except that was the new problem, the one I hadn't expected. I was starting to like these moments where it was just Luca and me. I liked the feel of his arms around me and I liked the way he looked at me and spoke to me.
Like I was somebody.
Like I meant something to him.
Yes, it was all about guilt on his part, but was it so wrong to reap the benefit of that?
I knew the answer to that, of course. It was how I managed to remove my fingers from Luca's hair. He rose with me when I stood. His hands remained on my hips for a moment before he dropped them, and I felt the loss with more awareness than I would've liked. We hadn’t really finished talking, but I hoped that I'd done enough, said enough, to at least get him through the night. He would feel the loss of his son in the days to come and for however long it took to get Gio back. I knew that better than anyone. Maybe I couldn't help him deal with the pain, but maybe he felt a little less alone now.
"Good night," I managed to get out. My body felt thwarted, even though I had no one but myself to blame. I wanted him to ask me to stay. I wanted him to take my hand and lead me to his bed and lie down next to me so for once I wouldn't have to be afraid while I slept. But becoming dependent on him was as dangerous as becoming dependent on heroin. I'd already gone through needing him once when I’d been a kid and I couldn't do it again.