His hot mouth explored my body as though for the first time, leaving me alternately groaning and shivering.
The orange light spilling from the fireplace soaked our bodies bronze. It moved liquidly over our writhing forms.
My back arched up off the furs, my muscles going rigid while Liam's strong fingers held my thighs tightly, his skilled mouth and tongue urging me over the edge of my climax.
I needed to be with him, then. Soon enough he lay on his back, the fur cushioning him, his hands clutching my waist as I sank down on him, both of us groaning, breathing through clenched teeth.
"You feel so good," Liam said, those strong fingers of his moving up from my waist to cup and clutch my breasts even while I rolled my hips, driving him deep into me again and again.
His eyes flashed with the light of the fire beside us.
Knowing that I made him feel good only deepened my arousal. I took him harder, faster.
His hands moved back down to my hips, pushing and lifting, forcing our bodies together. I cried out for him again, my muscles forcing my back to arch again so that I had to rest my hands on his thighs to keep myself upright.
Despite the heat, my entire body pebbled with gooseflesh as my climax shuddered through me, wringing me clean of all energy so that I collapsed forward onto him.
His hands stroked down my waist, clutching my bottom before shifting as he rolled us over.
I didn't think I had anything left in me, but Liam proved me wrong. I clutched him so tightly, my nails digging into his back as I went through the wringer for a third time.
Liam groaned, too, finally losing control with me. Then he collapsed beside me on the fur, his deep chest rising and falling as he tried to gulp down enough oxygen.
We both glistened in the burnt orange light of the fire. I could feel the way it matted the hair to my forehead, smell its sweetness in the air.
I didn't decline when he told me to stay the night with him, even though I had a class the next morning.
"I'll just stop by my flat before I head to the campus," I said.
"Don't worry about it. I'll give you a ride over. After I make you breakfast. And this time I won't burn it!"
"Is that a promise?" I followed him as he moved about the bedroom. He'd pulled on a pair of boxers and nothing else, and I was enjoying the show. He still had that Do Me hair from our earlier roll on the furs, and despite the deep ache in my body I seriously considered going for it for a second time that evening.
He grabbed his phone from the dresser and looked at it. Then he did a double take, frowning.
"Something up?" I said.
He locked the phone and set it back down, splaying his fingers on the glossy surface of the dresser for a moment. "Nothing to concern yourself with."
"If that's the case, can you get your cute butt into bed? It's cold without you!"
"We can't have that!" he said, climbing up onto the covers so that he pinned me beneath them. Then he kissed me. It was a sweet kiss, a goodnight kiss.
Except he didn't slide under the covers right away. He went back to the dresser and checked his phone again, and only then did he come to bed with me.
He was nice and warm and a perfect big spoon and I remembered drifting off listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his breathing.
When I woke up the next morning, the sun cutting in through the gap in the drapes, I was alone.
Chapter 12
I panicked, the surge of adrenaline coursing through me clearing away any hint of morning grogginess.
Even when I saw the note beside me on his pillow my anxiety only calmed somewhat. I snatched it so quickly that some muscle in my back still tight from sleep knotted painfully.
Grimacing against that pain, I folded the note open on his pillow. It was thick, rich paper with the letterhead of the Forums Hotel across the top in a faux ancient Latin font.
Liam's cursive was flowing, loopy, and easy to read. He definitely would not have succeeded as a doctor with handwriting like that.
Emma, something has come up to take me away from you. Please believe that it was important, and that it couldn't wait. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye, but you looked far too peaceful to wake up. I hope you'll take a rain check on the breakfast (I swear I'll cook a frittata for you some morning soon!). I won't be back until early this evening. Please feel free to order room service. I will see you later. L.
I kept looking at the graceful loops that made up the single initial of his signature. Instinctively, I pulled the sheet up to cover myself, wishing that he'd been here to wrap his arms around me instead.
It wasn't the best start to the day that I could have had, and a glance at the clock told me that I still had plenty of time to get to my flat and then to class.
Of course, it was my class on Raphaelite painters. The one with Professor Di Cenzo, the man who'd given my A paper a D grade.
Is it even worth going? I wondered. I found the complimentary slippers beside the bed and slipped my feet into them. They were big on me, clearly meant for Liam. So I shuffled over to the window and squinted out into the morning light.
The Forum spread out below me, the Coliseum not far beyond it. The marble hurt to look at. I let the drape fall shut, blowing out my lips in a sigh that quickly turned into a yawn.
Why go to a class that I wasn't going to be attending in two weeks' time? It was an exercise in futility.
Except I wanted to stay. Here in Rome, in school.
Early on in my tenure here, I'd begun calling the students at the university Saps (and I included myself among them). I thought it was clever, seeing as it was called Sapienza University. But it had also been derogatory and spiteful.
But I had been the biggest sap of them all. And now that I'd realized what it was I wanted, I couldn't have it.
Then Liam's whole thing about my integrity replayed itself in my mind's eye. He's right, I thought. I couldn't give into Dr. Aretino's perverse demands. But then I couldn't leave, either.
I couldn't let him chase me away. He'd be winning there, too. Not exactly the prize he was after, but a victory for him nonetheless, asserting his dominance and authority.
I can do it. I can find a way around this. My heart surged at the idea as though already celebrating a triumph. It was fine and dandy and I liked the feeling, I knew, but it was no more real than the false warmth provided by alcohol to a freezing man.
"I'll do it," I said, glancing around when I realized that I'd spoken aloud.
I didn't order room service, but I did make a small pot of coffee. The aroma quickly filled the suite, waking up my senses. I'd flirted with the idea of putting the gleaming espresso maker (with integrated milk foamer!) to use, but I wanted to be awake and not vibrating fast enough to fall through the cracks between atoms.
From there, I got dressed and went to go puzzle out which busses I needed to take to get back to my flat.
Mrs. Rosselini saw me walking down the street. I'd done my best at Liam's to not look like a zombie, but it was clear that this wasn't the first day I'd worn these jeans and this shirt. The wrinkles, like Liam's eyes, didn't lie.
Mrs. Rosselini grabbed my arm as I approached her and looked at me, squinting against the morning sunlight glinting off the window to her shop. "You are certain he is a good boy?"
The concern in her voice made my heart swell again. It wilted when I thought that if I didn't come up with a solution soon that I'd be moving out. It just didn't seem like I'd had a full day if I didn't get the scent of fresh-baked bread coming in through my window.
"Ci," I replied, "He is a good man."
Her squint didn't waver, "Remember that there is a difference between a good man and a handsome man. Remember what I said about when the handsome is gone. Remember too that I have a nice rolling pin inside," she said, making a swinging motion with her other arm.
"I won't forget," I said, already feeling better about my day, "And I know the difference."
She squinted at me for a while longer, trying to suss out a lie, making sure that I actually understood what she meant.
Mrs. Rosselini refused to let me go up to my flat without first pressing some fresh rolls into my hands. She nodded approvingly when I finished them. A good breakfast. The coffee hadn't been sitting right on my empty stomach.
Then I changed into some clean clothes upstairs, read the readings for that day's lecture, and headed to class.
Just outside the classroom, I stopped by the wall and took my phone out. I sent a quick message to Liam.
Hey. I'll let you take a rain check this time ;). Hope things are going good with you. See you later, maybe?
Then I watched the little digital clock at the top of my screen count minute after minute. My classmates started filing into the auditorium, a few waving at me to come with them.
I waved back, but didn't go in until the last moment. Liam hadn't responded, and Professor Di Cenzo didn't allow cell phones in class. If he saw you using yours, he'd take it away and he'd only give it back during office hours. Which could be a few days later, depending on his schedule.
I'd liked him before the Romano Incident, as I'd begun calling the thing with my essay grade in my head. Once at the beginning of the semester a rich Italian girl named either Catarina or Teresa had ignored his no cell rule and paid the price.
He'd plucked the phone out of her hand and then promptly engaged in a heated debate with the person (I always assumed the girl's mother for whatever reason) on the other end of the line regarding proper time management at school.
That memory used to be good for a giggle or an amused smile, but now it only gave me a case of the butterflies. For some reason I really wanted to get a message back from Liam, and now I'd have to resist checking my phone for the next hour and half.