Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
At the door, he pulls me close and delivers a chaste, but somehow still very promising, kiss on my lips. Then he brings my hand to his mouth and lays a parting kiss on the back of it, like a romantic hero in an old-time movie.
“Until tomorrow, Daniela.” Matteo has always called me Dani or Ms. Fenton. His use of my full name – an Italian name suggested by my grandparents, who visited Italy shortly before I was born – marks the new dimension to our relationship. It sounds beautiful when he says it, just as it did when Fiero called me by that name earlier today.
I’m pretty sure I don’t breathe again until he’s out of sight and I hear the elevator doors close down the hall. I’m left stunned – but not at all surprised – by how my body and my mind responded to him. The desire has been building all along, ever since I first laid eyes on him.
Now, to find out he wants me too, so much so that he’s willing to both risk his career and compete with his brother, who wants to date me as well – it’s all too much to process.
I have an impulse to confide in someone – my sister, a friend, my elementary school diary – but instead I spend the evening sitting on the same couch, ostensibly watching tv, but in reality replaying my moments with Fiero and Matteo over and over in my mind.
Could it be that my luck with men has finally changed? Can I handle dating the two most attractive men I’ve ever met – at the same time?
And how will I ever possibly choose between them?
The next morning, I find myself taking extra care while doing my hair and makeup, even though Matteo kissed me when I looked like a post-cry disaster.
My Italian class is mid-morning, and I can barely eat my breakfast with all of the butterflies that seem to be throwing a party in my stomach. Finally, it’s time, and I arrive early, hoping to have a chance to talk to Matteo, but he doesn’t come into the classroom until right before class starts.
He scans the group, and stops when his eyes reach me, holding my gaze for a moment, one corner of his mouth turning up such a small amount that I could almost miss it if I wasn’t looking at his lips, remembering when they were on mine.
I wiggle in my seat as fresh lust floods my system. Usually a conscientious student, I can barely focus on my conversational partner, distracted as I am by Matteo’s mere presence.
Later, when we take turns reading passages, I feel like a giggly teenager with a crush, and hope that I’m not somehow giving myself away to everyone in the room. I’m well aware how dangerous it would be for Matteo if anyone found out that something was going on between us.
I’m prepared to play it safe and leave as I normally would, when he says, “Ms. Fenton? Could you come to my office after class?”
Afraid my voice will betray me, I simply nod in response.
So Close
Matteo’s office is in the modern languages building, as is our classroom, but on a different floor. As I climb the stairs, I alternate between giddy excitement and fear. Part of me, conditioned by my past, is expecting my professor to come to his senses and change his mind about me.
He’s seated at his desk when I arrive, but gets up when I come in. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” I’m playing the part of a typical student, but my mind is busy spinning dirty fantasies like there’s a devil sitting on my shoulder. I want to drop to my knees and unzip his pants, but Matteo’s career – and likely his work visa – are on the line, so it will be best if he sets the pace for taking our relationship further.
“Ms. Fenton, thank you for coming by.” His voice is professional as he closes the door behind me, but I’m treated to a brilliant smile once we have privacy. “It was even more difficult than before, seeing you in class and not being able to touch you.”
He closes the distance between us and rests his head against mine, breathing in deeply, like he’s taking in fresh air for the first time today. When he doesn’t make any further move to touch me, I look up to find his brows knitted and a faraway look in his eyes.
He’s working through an internal conflict, and I’m immensely flattered that this by-the-book man would consider breaking the rules to be with me. I don’t want him to get in trouble, but I understand his turmoil. It’s hard for me to think about anything except how much I want him.