Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
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"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Were the first words to leave his mouth after his lips detached from mine.
I looked at him in slight disappointment, for I was really enjoying that kiss, but then I realized that it was totally wrong for me to mess up his life.
Sure, Mr. Visconti also has a wife and a son, but that's completely different. I really want him, whereas I feel nothing but gratitude towards Christian.
I shook my head and got off his lap. "Don't worry, it's my fault. I shouldn't have... I should've gone to sleep. I'm sorry. Goodnight." I took a few steps back then turned around and walked upstairs and to the guest room, not giving him the chance to say anything else.
I crawled into bed feeling like total crap and started thinking, overthinking, and torturing myself with a certain nasty thought: was I really a whore?
I never use that word, I think it's disgusting and low to call someone that. No matter what, there is no justification for using it. A woman is allowed to like sex, has all the rights to feel that primal pleasure without getting shamed for it. And if she happens to fall in love with the wrong man, the one with a family, so what? She's not the one who swore to be faithful to the wife, he is. And if he chooses to break that promise, it's all on him.
Though I can't help but be over critical when it comes to me. Straight up cruel at times.
And the fact that I wanted to go back into the living room and continue from where we left off made me hate myself even more. I just wanted to have a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, so that I could cry without feeling so damn lonely.
But I couldn't, not after seeing those cheerful little boys smiling for the camera whilst holding onto their father's legs. Yet I still needed warmth.
And so I pathetically walked back to him.
Christian was still sitting on the sofa, some unimportant program playing in the background, not receiving any attention from the man. He was looking outside the window, obviously lost in thought and totally oblivious to his surroundings.
I lightly— timidly, even, cleared my throat to get his attention. "I... Look, I don't want to cause any other issues. Can you just... Please, can you hold me for a bit? I won't try anything, I promise." My current self-consciousness was preventing me from speaking clearly and with the usual confidence I possess, which only generated more negative thoughts.
"I'm the one who ended up kissing you first, Alison. Stop blaming yourself." He offered a small smile, then outstretched his right arm. "Get here."
I smiled back and thanked him, before stepping closer to him and sitting on the couch next to him this time, avoiding his lap. After nestling myself comfortably against his side, I turned my attention to the tv and watched whatever show was on, uninterestedly.
