[MATURE CONTENT]
"Arancini isn't the most fascinating thing on the menu, Coniglia." he commented, taking a long sip from his glass of stark red wine. "You clearly have no taste."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "And what is it on the menu that surpasses...
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I stared at the ceiling, watching the fan go round and round in endless circles. It popped into my head before I could stop it, and the dumb grin curved onto my lips in unwanted response as I tried my hardest to ignore it.
But I couldn't.
I felt giddy, drunk on the memories my mind had me reminisce in the oddest minutes of the day. When I showered, when I ate, during bloody conversations with my father.
They wouldn't stop, and pretty much were all I thought about for abundant seconds, sometimes minutes, on end. I was starting to fear that they would translate into wistful hours, blissful days.
I flipped over onto my stomach, holding my head in my hands, feet kicking in the air as the thoughts only filled my mind even more. I felt so stupid, like a hopeless girl in middle school who'd just held hands with her crush. Or maybe even a super cute boy.
Only, I wasn't in middle school. And my super cute boy was an Italian god. And holding hands was the least of what we did.
My phone buzzed in the left corner, the standard notification bell I got whenever Taya sent me a message ringing in my ear. I swung my legs onto the floor and scurried over to the drawer, grabbing my phone. In my eagerness, the BlackBerry dropped to the wooden floor with a large thud.
"Shit," I murmured, bending down to lift it in my hands. I crossed my legs back on the bed, flipping the phone open and reading the message that blinked on the homescreen.
Remember what I said about the balcony?
I groaned, quickly flicking the phone closed again. I threw my back onto the bed, not even bothered to read the rest of the messages Taya had sent me.
Someone knocked softly on my door.
"Come in." I answered, and heard the door creak open.
My eyes stayed glued on the ceiling, hearing the footsteps inch closer to where I was. They were heavy, daunting, and I knew immediately who it was. I bit my lip, smiling, and pinched my thigh.
Raffaele's face loomed over me, head blocking the ceiling fan. I smiled harder, clenching my jaw to stop it from curling higher onto my lips. A small smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Hello Raffaele." I greeted, tone cheery, goofy.
He crouched onto his haunches, squatting to be at level with my head. He set his arms on either side of me, propping himself closer. He was bent horizontally above my figure, mischievous eyes staring down at me. They flicked down to my lips, lingered. Then, he pressed his lips onto mine. They moved slow, tasted so good. He kissed my bottom lip, his teeth pulling onto it.
Raffaele trailed his hands just below my chin, and wrapped gentle fingers around it. He gripped a bit, causing me to curve my neck, but further allowing him to kiss me deeper.
