Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) (29 page)

She closes the distance between us and kisses me, her hands resting on my biceps, gliding up my shoulders, twisting behind my neck. I pull her into my lap, her legs straddling me on the couch. I wrap her hair around my fist, pulling her closer.

She’s bared her ugly truths, her shameful secrets, her damaged pieces.

Now it’s my turn to show her that none of that matters.

Chapter Fifty

Mia

Lorenzo’s breath is hot on my neck, his fingers digging into my scalp as he pulls me into him. I scoot closer, my body pressed up against him, his heart beating against my chest.

Relief courses through my veins, flooding my senses with gratitude. He knows. He knows and he wants me anyway. A joy I’ve never known wraps around me, cocooning me in a sense of security I haven’t felt in years.

Not since my mom died.

Lorenzo’s touch burns my skin, a scorching trail left in the wake of his fingertips. His hands rest on my hips and slowly peel my sweater up and over my head. Clad in a tight camisole, I fight the urge to cover my body, but he won’t let me. Nipping at my shoulder, Lorenzo runs his nose up the curve of my neck and whispers in my ear. “No hiding, Mia. I want it all.”

I practically pant over his shoulder. Pulling back momentarily, I look into his eyes. I know I have to be honest with him about this, even though it’s almost as embarrassing as him discovering my issues with food. “There is one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

I avert my gaze, cringing internally. Why do I always have to be so awkward? “I’m a virgin.”

Lorenzo snorts. “I know, baby.”

My mouth drops open and my hands still, resting on the top of his shoulders. My eyes clasp onto his, surprised to see the humor shining there. “What do you mean you know?”

He shakes his head slightly, a look of amusement flickering over his face. “You’re too sweet, too innocent to have had your heart broken by a guy.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never had sex.”

He smirks. “I know you, Mia. Even in this short amount of time, I know that you’re the kind of girl that requires a commitment…” he pauses to kiss my bare shoulder “…faithfulness…” another kiss “…loyalty.” He looks up at me, his eyes burning with sincerity. “And I want to have all of that with you.”

I squirm slightly under the heat of his gaze. This is for real. The moment I’ve been saving myself for without really knowing I was saving myself. And Lorenzo is right. I always figured I would have sex when it was meaningful, when I felt a connection with the other person. But as the years passed, and I was still holding onto my virginity, I stopped caring so much about it being meaningful and just wanted it to be more than a one-night stand. I always did need that sense of commitment, that reassurance that the guy would still be there in the morning. Now, in this moment, wrapped up in Lorenzo, I finally have it.

Lorenzo kisses me again, pulling me under, pulling me closer. He stands slowly, keeping my legs wrapped around his waist. One hand clasps my ass, supporting my weight. The palm of his other hand slides up the back of my shirt, his forearm resting along my spine, anchoring me to him. His hand is hot on my skin, his fingers leaving a shiver of goose bumps in their wake. I close my eyes as his fingers trail up my neck and get lost in my hair.

Lorenzo lays me down gently on his bed. He leans over me, looking down, a ghost of a smile shadowing his lips. Reaching behind his head, he pulls his T-shirt off and discards it on the floor.

I inhale audibly, my eyes glued to his upper body. Traveling upward from the waistband of his jeans, I drink him in. The way his muscles ripple when he moves, his abs winking at me as he hovers over my body, his forearms bearing his weight as he cages me in. I run my hand tentatively up the side of his body, my fingers gliding over the ink swirling up his ribcage. His broad shoulders bunch as he shifts his weight, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the sigh from falling out of my mouth.

I laugh out loud when I see his pierced nipples again. I flick one with my finger in question, and he laughs, shrugging. “A dare in college.”

“So you never back down from a dare?” I ask, remembering our night of Truth and Dare on the docks in Liguria.

His face grows serious, his eyes thoughtful. “I never back down from anything.”

He kisses me lightly, his lips parting above mine. My eyes flutter closed and my hands clench the taunt muscles of his shoulders, the smooth skin of his back. He prods my lips open with the tip of his tongue, deepening our connection.

His hands work my camisole up and over my head in an expert move; it happened too fast for me to notice. He pulls back slightly, drinking me in, and dips his head to press kisses across my collarbone, down the swell of my tiny breasts, pausing to flick his tongue over the top of my bra, right against my nipple. I shudder.

He smiles. “You’re going to enjoy this, bellezza. Trust me.”

I nod. Because I do trust him.

And as he works my body over with his gentle caresses, his fingers skillful, his mouth knowing, I do enjoy it.

More than I ever thought possible.

* * *

“You, the perpetual virgin …” Maura pauses, hiccupping slightly. “You had sex?”

“You don’t have to sound so incredulous about it.” I huff, a bit peeved at her less than enthusiastic reaction. I should have called Lila or Emma, but I knew Maura was the only person who would be awake at this hour in the U.S. so …

“Yes I do!” She laughs. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you would take this pact so literal. You really jumped way out of your comfort zone.”

“Thank you. I think.”

Her voice softens as she asks, “Are you okay? Was it okay? I thought you were waiting until … well, I’m not sure what you were waiting for, but did it go the way you hoped?”

I smile, my fingertips pressing against my lips. Remembering the way Lorenzo branded them with his touch, how his hands felt gliding down the sides of my body, how his lips kissed the insides of my thighs. When he pushed inside of me, I tensed with the sharp shock of pain, but it quickly receded to a dull ache, which transformed into a building pressure, erupting and cascading through me in waves. It was beautiful and perfect and the most meaningful connection I’ve ever shared with a guy, so … “Yes,” I answer Maura. “It was perfect. And I’m great. It was more than what I hoped for.”

“Well then, congratulations, Mia. And welcome to the club.”

I laugh, suddenly happy I told Maura first. I knew she wouldn’t beg for details and demand a graphic play-by-play. I’m sure this will happen at some point with Lila and Emma, but I’m happy it isn’t tonight. I’m still too keyed up, too giddy, to want to share every detail. Instead, I want to hold on to them, keep them all to myself. The way Lorenzo looked at me, the blue of his eyes bright and clear and honest. He worshipped my body, exalted me with a reverence so deep in its sincerity, so true in its gratitude that I was utterly overwhelmed.

“Mia?” Maura asks. “You still there?”

I stifle a giggle. “Yeah, sorry.”

Maura laughs softly. “Daydreaming?”

“Remembering.” I sigh.

“Wow, Mia. You got it bad. I’m happy for you,” Maura says seriously.

I nod. “How’s everything by you?”

Silence ticks by for several seconds before she breathes out. “Things are fine. I’m going to see if Lila is coming home for Thanksgiving. I think I’ll go up and see her, you know, after everything.”

I nod in agreement. Lila could really use a friend right now. She shouldn’t be alone. I’m glad that Maura will be with her. And that Lila will be with Maura. They’re both struggling, trying to overcome their demons, trying to heal fresh wounds. Jeez, maybe we all are? I want to try and be there for Lila and Maura so badly, but something holds me back. I know Maura is hurting, still grieving, but I’m not quite sure on the best approach to take with her. She keeps shooting me down whenever I try to pry the truth from her. And I know that Lila is lost, shutting down and blocking out the world. How can I help them when I can barely help myself? If I didn’t meet Lorenzo, would I still be struggling just as much as they are?

“Yeah, I hope it works out. I really want to see her.” Maura sighs.

Talk to me!
I want to yell.

Seconds tick by.

“Maura, is everything okay?”

“Sure. Sorry, Mia, I have to get going.” She brushes me off, per usual. “I am really happy for you though. Be safe. Use protection.” She barks out a jagged laugh.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. You too. Bye, Mia.”

“’Bye.” I hang up and lie back on my bed. When I get home, when we’re all back in the same time zone, I’m not going to let Maura off the hook so easily.

Snuggling into my pillows, my thighs clench together and soreness travels through my limbs. A delicious ache. I stretch my arms overhead, enjoying the exhilaration still pumping through my veins, the memory of Lorenzo’s touch still staining me.

God, it was perfect.

Chapter Fifty-One

Lorenzo

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Sandro’s eyebrows raise, his fingers rolling a Peroni bottle back and forth.

“What?” I ask, startled. I look up from my Negroni and glare at him. “Why would you think that?”

He snorts, his face never easing into a grin. “Because your head’s on fucking Mars. She good?”

I shake my head slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Are you kidding me right now? You’re not going to share the dirty details?”

I say nothing.

Sandro lets out a low whistle. “Fuck. This one’s got you whipped.”

I still say nothing. Because it’s the fucking truth.

Instead, I drink my Negroni and change the conversation to the AS Roma game on in the background.

Sandro watches me knowingly, but takes the bait, rattling off something about Rizzo’s knee injury.

I nod absentmindedly, still trying to get my simmering blood under control. The anger that spread like wildfire through my veins at his question is startling. Sandro and I … Jesus, we used to kick girls back and forth between us like passing a football. And now, I literally want to choke him for asking about Mia.

And the fucker knows it.

* * *

Anthony Casale’s profile picture on Facebook stares back at me as I sit in front of my laptop, my right knee bouncing up and down.

Mia is leaving next month. In six weeks, she’ll be on a plane heading back to New York, back to her life, back to her friends. And I don’t want to let her go. Sandro is right; I am whipped. And I don’t even care.

I close my eyes, remembering that first night, the way her skin shuddered beneath my hands, the taste of her kiss, how she gripped me so tight I swore I saw Heaven. Fuck if I’m letting any of that go. And since that night, in fact every night this past week, I’ve kissed her, touched her, buried myself so deep inside her, I’m losing my grasp on reality as I lose myself in her.

Six fucking weeks.

I don’t want to let her go.

But can I really follow a girl to another country? How could I do that to Mama and Claudia, especially now, with Benito hanging over our heads like a dark cloud? I can’t go.

Can I?

I bang my fist on my desk, watching as my laptop jumps several centimeters. I’m fucking insane if I think this can work. It can’t. I mean, it’s too fucking cliché. American study abroad student falls in love with Italian guy and they live happily ever after. I laugh. What a fucking joke.

I log out of Facebook.

Getting up from my desk, I walk down to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. Staring out the window, I don’t even hear Mama enter the room.

“You look very serious, Lorenzo,” she comments, sitting at the kitchen table.

I jump at the sound of her voice, the contents of my glass sloshing over the side and dripping onto the floor.

Mama chuckles. “So all worked out with the girl, no?”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. My stubble prickles my palm. I need to shave. “Kind of.”

Mama smirks. “What does that mean?”

“Yes, it worked out. We’re together.”

Mama claps her hands together. “Excellent. I would love to meet her. Should we do a dinner?”

I shake my head. “She’s leaving. She goes back to America before Christmas.”

Mama furrows her brow. “Hmm. Well, of course I can have a dinner in the next month, Lorenzo. It’s not ideal but it’s enough time.”

I swallow a laugh, remembering the “dinners” Mama used to host, back when Papa was alive, back when business was everything. Weeks of preparations, the perfect menu, the selection of centerpieces, the various dresses, cake tastings. Mama’s dinner parties were epic. And always unrivaled.

“I didn’t mean about dinner. I mean she’s leaving. As in, we aren’t going to be together in six weeks.” Are we?

“Why not?” Mama’s voice is sharp.

“How, Mama? She lives in America!” I pull out the chair across from her and sit down noisily.

“You’ve always wanted to go to America. To New York,” she says simply.

“I can’t just leave Italy. Not now.” I look at her pointedly.

“Don’t look at me like that, Lorenzo.” Mama pats my hand with her own. “There’s no reason for you to stop living your life. Everything will be sorted. Besides, if she is the one, you would be a fool to let her go without trying everything in your power to be together.”

I open my mouth, but Mama raises her hand, effectively silencing me.

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or without sacrifice, or without disappointments. But nothing real in life, especially relationships, is free of these types of challenges. If you love her, if you want to be with her, than you will.” She shrugs. “And if you don’t, you won’t. But it’s up to you and her. I’ve never known you to quit so easily before.” She pats my hand again, standing up from the table. Leaning down, she kisses my cheek affectionately, taking some of the sting out of her last comment. “You’ve always been so smart, Lorenzo, but sometimes, I really do wonder about your emotional intelligence.”