24. Paolo

CHAPTER 24

PAOLO

W hen I pull up to the palace, I turn off the engine and we sit in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to say.

We didn’t speak much after Chloe’s confession, and I can’t quite figure out how I’m supposed to respond. Am I supposed to tell her that I love her now? Am I supposed to admit that to myself?

That’s too much pressure to handle.

So, instead of words, I turn to look at her. Her eyes are swimming with an emotion I can’t name, making me feel like I’m drowning in them, like I can’t look away.

“Chloe,” I say softly, reaching out to push her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her cheek, “I had a really good day today.”

“So did I,” she says again, like she really does mean it. “I’m glad we got to spend it together.”

“I have a question,” I say, ready to hold my breath waiting for her answer. She tilts her head. “Earlier, in the alleyway… I don’t regret it, but it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. And you’re right. I should allow myself to show who I am more. I should be better. So…”

This is getting out of control. I shake my head, and Chloe narrows her eyes at me, trying to figure out where this is going. “So?” she asks.

“So,” I say, “I would like to kiss you again. Would that be okay?”

“I would be furious with you if you didn’t,” she says, her face splitting into a wide smile. I grin back, then lean over, wrapping my arms around her.

Our lips meet gently and tenderly, pressing against each other, but underneath, I can sense the passion that’s still there. I feel her take a deep breath, and her arms come to my waist, like she’s trying to pull me in.

I don’t want to stop this moment, but kissing in the car like this is too exposed. That and there are other things I would much rather do in more appropriate places. “Chloe,” I breathe in her ear, “let me take you back to my room.”

Let me show you what you mean to me , I think, but don’t dare say it. All of this is already complicated enough without adding words like love into the mix.

She leans back from me, her eyes dark with lust. “I’m all yours.”

We rush out of the car, only to get stopped by Maria in the corridor. “There you both are,” she says. “Your dinner will be going cold. You should get yourselves to the dining room straightaway.”

Chloe and I share a look, trying to figure out how we can wriggle our way out of this. To me, it’s clear as day what Chloe has got on her mind. But we can’t exactly say no to Maria. We don’t want things to start looking weird.

Not that having sex with your wife is that weird, I guess. I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re meant to do.

But to keep up appearances, we head dutifully through to the dining room without argument.

I’m not particularly hungry after our lunch, and from the way Chloe picks at her food, I don’t think she is either. She keeps throwing me this little look, almost a smirk. It’s barely anything, but it’s teasing enough to start driving me crazy.

We sit at the table for as long as we can bear to. I get the sense that both of us are counting down the seconds to the moment it’s polite for us to leave again. And the second that that moment arrives, I make eye contact with Chloe and say, “Are you done?”

She nods, that lustful spark on her face again. “I’m ready to go upstairs.”

“Let’s retire for the evening.” I get to my feet and offer her my arm. “Shall we?”

We move through the house almost impossibly slowly. We climb the stairs slowly, not to seem like we’re rushing, not to seem like we want each other so desperately that I could scream.

It was bad enough bumping into Maria earlier. I don’t think I can bear to see anyone else now. I don’t think I can hide the physical reality of me wanting her.

I don’t think I can stand the embarrassment of being caught.

The second the bedroom door closes behind us, she pushes me up against it and kisses me, grinding into me, a low noise bubbling in her throat.

“God, Chloe,” I growl. “I’ve missed you.”

“Prove it,” she says, and I do. I flip her around, pushing her against the door, letting my kisses dip lower and lower, nipping her collarbone and shoulder before sinking to my knees, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her leggings and tugging them down to the floor.

She’s already glisteningly wet for me, so I don’t waste any time, burying my face straight into her folds. She cries out and claps a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet, even though it’s too late to take back her moan.

I pull away for a second to tell her, “You really don’t need to do that. These walls are pretty soundproof.”

She looks down at me and says, “Why have you stopped?”

I don’t need any further instruction than that.

I push my tongue back against her clit, flicking it in increasing circles with growing pressure, burying my entire face in her, eating her as hungrily as a starving man would eat a meal.

I am starving for her.

I’ve been hungry for her since the day we met, and no amount of kissing her seems to fill me.

When she comes, she shakes around my mouth and fingers, her legs trembling hard, one hand clenching in my hair, the other digging into my shoulder as she tries to stay upright while her wetness is spreading down my face. She tastes divine.

I don’t move until she stops trembling.

As she comes down from her climax, she sinks to meet me on the floor, straddling my knees and kissing me, pushing me backwards onto the floor. They nearly slip out then — the words I’ve been trying to figure out how to say.

In this second, if I told her that I loved her, I would mean every syllable.

And if I told her in the next second, I would mean that too. But my head is spinning with sex, and today’s already been weird enough without another added complication. I’d say I’m falling for her, but falling implies I still have further to go.

I don’t. I am hers completely, whether she knows it or not. Whether she wants it or not. There will always be a part of me that loves her.

Her fingers wrestle with the button for my shorts and I reach down to help her pull down my fly. She releases the button then slips her hand inside to cup my hardening length with her palm, applying a gentle pressure that makes me feel like I’m about to explode there and then.

“I need you, Chloe. I need to fuck you right now. Please.”

She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she rips off her T-shirt and unclasps her bra so she can throw it to the floor. I take off my own shirt, and we roll around on the floor for a little longer, me rolling on a condom before, finally, I slip inside her and we connect, moving against each other in a perfect rhythm.

This moment will have to end eventually, but I never want it to.

We kiss, we hold each other, we fuck — no, we make love. That expression has never been more true than it is right now.

This is love. She must feel it too. She must.

What other explanation is there for the way her hips move? For the way she throws her head back and moans? For the look of pure ecstasy on her face?

Her mouth opens in silent gasps, and she cries out as she comes, her body shaking out of her control. I reach down between our bodies to her clit, wanting her to come again and again, wanting to make her feel so, so good.

And then I explode.

The world fades around me for a second. All I’m aware of is Chloe’s body, the way her breasts press against me, the way her hands cling to my skin, the way her lips feel against my face, and I almost say it again. The thought is so loud in my head, Chloe, I love you . I’m sure she must feel it.

But saying it is too much like a confession. And in this moment, this beautiful moment of peace and passion, I feel like a confession will bring it all shattering down.