STELLA
Can’t I just have a break from my emotions for one moment? Antonio San Giovanni is not, I repeat NOT, a good match for me. Despite what both of our families think, we would never work. I’m far too structured, independent, and willful to ever be with someone as frivolous, irresponsible, impulsive, and egotistical as him. Playboy party types don’t end up with anyone until they’re at least in their forties. Maybe even later than that.
I’m not saying I don’t like to go out, let loose, and have a good time… I’m saying we have different ideas of what that looks like. And even if we could work those details out, we would still be bound to each other based on a family deal. Stuck in a marriage we never wanted because all we really wanted was to fuck each other–
Maybe that’s it.I just need to fuck him, and this will all be over. These feelings of… affection (cringe), if that’s even what it is.
I will admit, he knows what to do with his hands. Last night we didn’t even fuck, and I experienced more pleasure than I have with anyone since, I don’t know, since I was sixteen with Jens in that hotel off the coast of Buenos Aires. Then again, the only reason that was any good at all was because I told him everything to do. But somehow, Antonio just knew, and it turns me on to even think about going further with him than we did last night.
I make my way back to the lounge room, sit on the blanket and listen as Antonio sluggishly brings himself down the stairs. The entire downstairs smells like sweet lemons and smoky wood. I must focus on this aroma’s calming effects if I’m going to continue to fight Antonio’s advances.
“Took you long enough,” I jest when he sits in front of me, still hooked to his phone. “What are you doing?” I lurch to see his screen, but he draws it closer to himself. I tap my fingers over my calf, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s focused on.
“It’s your turn,” He says without looking up, and I glance at the board to recount the moves.
“Oh,” I say, looking through my chips to calculate a move before dropping a three-letter word. I wait a second for him to notice I’ve gone, but he doesn’t move. “Your turn.” I snap my finger, and he looks up to glare at me.
“What’s your deal?” I furrow my brows at him.
“Nothing.” He blinks and places two letters at the end of my last word. “You win.” He flatly intones. I glance down at the board, count the points and look at the options before agreeing with him.
“Want to play again?” I ask, and he doesn’t respond. “Antonio?” He’s still looking down at his phone, and something overcomes me. Rage perhaps? And I whip his phone out of his hands, so quickly his body goes rigid for a second, eyes wide with surprise.
“What the fuck, Lombardi?” He leans forward, and I jerk the phone further away. “Give it back!” He growls, lunging forward and pushing me to the ground. I reach it behind my back, but he pins my wrists to the wood floors, stopping me from moving any further. I wriggle under him, wanting to break free, and he waits to take his phone, knowing he won this fight and reveling it.
“So big of you to overpower a hundred-pound woman.” I grit through my teeth, and he lowers his nose to mine. I shake my head because I know where he’s going again.
“Antonio. We promised.” He sighs, eases up on my hands accidentally, and I shove him off me before he can react. As I stand to my feet, he wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me back down. We’re laughing as I flop to the ground, landing on his chest.
“Here.” I slip it into the front pocket of his joggers, and we sit up together, me still on his lap. He brushes the hair off my shoulder, exposing my neck, and I don’t stop him. I feel the rush of chills run through my body as his breath nears my skin. His hands gently trail up my thighs, and his lips graze my neck before kissing it softly.
I catch my breath as he brushes his fingertips between my legs, pressing more firmly as he caresses me. I turn my head to his as his hand presses against my stomach, fingers pointed to my waistband. His eyes look to my lips, and I feel the heat rise between us, feel him hardening under me.
“We shouldn’t,” He whispers, brows raised at the last word. I shake my head slightly.
“No,” I whisper back, biting on my lips like I hate the word. But we really shouldn’t. And even though the consequences seem far and few presently, they will surely come to bite us in the ass. His hand is sliding into my leggings, nearing a point of no return. The excitement is building, and I already feel wet just from him touching me this way. Expectant for more, wishing I was not at all wanting this.
His lips suck on my neck again, trail down to my shoulder, fingers inch to my arousal, ready to meet it with immense pleasure. Then there’s a knock at the door, and he lifts me off him, jogging up the stairs.
“Um…” I say aloud, deeply disappointed and severely turned on. The knock repeats, and I stand, intending to open the door for whoever was brave enough to go out in this weather. But Antonio bolts down the stairs with something on his arm and pushes me out of the way before opening it.
The woman from yesterday is standing there when Antonio opens the door. He hands her what I presume to be something she left, and she asks to come inside. Why the fuck would she ask that? Was he messaging her this whole time? I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her. She notices, seems put off by it before Antonio rejects her, closing the door in her face and turning back to me.
I make sure to reserve the worst look for him, glare as intently as I can manage, eyes blazing with anger as I turn on my heel to stomp up the stairs. He grabs my wrist to stop me, but I rip it from his hand and continue forward. I slam my door, flop on my bed, and scream into my pillow. He doesn’t follow me; at least, I don’t think he does.
I hate that any of this even bothered me, that she was even a reason for my anger or the interruption of Antonio and I’s… whatever it was. I growl, pushing the whole thing to the background of my thoughts, longing to forget about it.
For the rest of the day, I sit in my room sketching dresses in my sketchbook, still angry with Antonio for inviting that woman to his house. I don’t care if she left her inhaler here; she can go get a new one at the store. Inviting her here was risky anyway. Stupid of him to assume no one would be watching or wanting to know what we’re up to today.
The rain has stopped by the evening, and just as I turn on a light because it’s gotten too dark in my room, there is a knock at the door. I don’t respond, continuing to sketch, intentionally ignoring as Antonio cracks open the door. He doesn’t say anything, but I can’t help the anger that bursts from me as I snap my head towards him.
“Is this going to become a new thing— you barging into my room without me saying it’s okay?” He raises his brow, considering delivering the comeback he no doubt has, burning the tip of his tongue as he holds it in. Instead, he takes a deep breath and shrugs.
“I want to take you somewhere.” He presses his lips into a sympathetic smile, and I sit my sketchbook down on the bed.
“Where?” He laughs at my slightly more eager reaction than before.
“It’s a surprise. Get dressed in something warm, and meet me downstairs in five.” He closes the door before I can agree, but he’s piqued my interest, so I slide off the bed and rummage through the closet for something warmer than what I’m wearing now.