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...
QOTC: okay honestly how hard do you think they're gonna f***?
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I woke up with sticky, tear-streaked cheeks on that sunny Thursday morning and, albeit the fact that my mother's death anniversary was fast approaching, a small smile still found its way on my lips at the thought of what had happened the previous night.
My mind, however, couldn't let me enjoy those little things, and soon enough a myriad of doubts started creeping up on me, eating away at my sanity.
Why was he acting like this with me? Was he simply being kind? Or was he developing some sort of feelings for me? Did he like me? Did he actually, truly care about me? Why had he offered his help back on Monday? What had led him to start that conversation with me?
Calm down, Alison, you're only succeeding in hurting yourself.
I had to stop asking myself those questions, for I wouldn't have been able to answer them anyway. All I had to do was enjoy what life was throwing at me.
But it was too damn little. Sure, I would have never expected for the trip to take this turn, and if anyone had told me that Visconti was going to offer his help and establish a connection between us— with my aid, of course, I would have laughed in their face. Yet now that it was happening, I needed more. I was greedy.
I yearned for him, for his touch, for his lips on mine. Having him so close to me, so gentle towards me made it even harder for me to control myself. If I had thought that I felt way too much for him before the trip, now I was overflowing with feelings.
How I had wanted to ask him to lay next to me instead of just sitting at the edge of the bed, to take me into his arms and fall asleep with our limbs intertwined.
Sighing, I got up and directed myself towards the bathroom with the intention of peeing and quickly washing up. Once I was done, I stepped back into the bedroom and put on a black bra, a pair of panties, a tight, black halter top that showcased a bit of cleavage and a short, white skirt.
"Can you get me a glass of water? And an aspirin? I have one in my bag." Lydia requested seemingly in pain, her voice groggy and throaty.
I looked at her and noticed that she was in terrible conditions.
Being a morning person, she was usually the first one to wake up and be all cute and chirpy. Not today. Her hair was messy, tangled, and there were black stains on her lids and cheekbones.
"Good morning, sunshine. Got too much to drink last night?" I asked ironically, crossing my arms over my chest with an amused expression.
She sent me a murderous glare. "Just shut up and help me."
I went to fill a glass with water and brought it to her, along with the small pill. "Kinda stupid of you to get wasted the night before a 3-hour-long trip on a bus and on a ferry, you dumb panda." I reprimanded, referring to the fact that we were going to go stay at a different hotel, one that was located in the middle of a small island just off the shores of Tuscany.
