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Aria glances back at me, and I can’t help my smile at the appreciation on her face. God, she’s beautiful.
The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the slight furrow of her brows when she’s deep in thought—everything about her captivates me. I want to tell her how I feel, how every moment without her is an eternity. But the words get stuck in my throat, lodged somewhere between my heart and my mouth.
I shift from one foot to the other, hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. My palms are sweaty. I wipe them on my jeans, trying to compose myself. Her eyes meet mine. My breath catches, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
Seeing her in my room makes me feel almost complete. Like she belongs here with me.
I want to tell her I’m in love with her. I need to tell her. But how do you tell someone that they mean the world to you without sounding desperate? Without scaring them away?
Aria steps closer, and I can smell her perfume—light and floral, with a hint of something sweet. It makes my head spin. She’s so close now, I can feel the warmth radiating from her body. I need to get away from her before I say something stupid.
I can’t put that pressure on her. Not now. I can’t risk losing her by confessing something she might not be ready to hear.
Her gaze gets caught on one of the shelves lining the wall, and I take the opportunity to leave and fill a bath for her.
I run the water, hopefully at the perfect temperature, and squeeze some soap into the stream. Grabbing a rose from the vase on the counter, I pluck some petals off and throw them in the tub.
Aria pops her head through the door. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” she asks, gnawing at her lip.
“Of course not, moró mou. Come in. I’ll leave you to it,” I say with a wink, and she tries to avoid my gaze. She’s so fucking cute when she’s embarrassed.
A few minutes later, she comes out.
“How do you feel?”
“Empty,” she replies, and I laugh deeply.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess there’s no point in being embarrassed now.”
I stand from the armchair I was sitting on and walk up to her, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “That’s great. But I mean, how do you feel post-comedown?” I ask, staring into her eyes. I need to make sure she’s being honest with me.
“Oh,” Aria says, and her cheeks flush a nice shade of pink. “I’m fine, I guess. I don’t feel like my head is going to explode anymore. I’m still a little woozy, though.”
I nod. “Makes sense. I drew you a bath. May I?” I gesture to her shirt.
It’s still clinging onto her for dear life. She’s wearing my t-shirt. It’s too big for her, but it somehow makes her look even more beautiful. Aria nods, her eyes not leaving mine.
I lead her to the adjoining bathroom where I disrobe her.
I reach for the hem of the t-shirt, my fingers brushing against her thighs as I begin to lift it. She raises her arms, and I pull it over her head, my pulse quickening at the sight of her bare skin.
Her breath hitches slightly. I let the shirt fall to the floor, my hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer.
Kneeling on the floor, eyes wandering down her long, slender legs, I kiss my way up her thighs.
My palms land on her bare ass, and I squeeze it, bringing her mound closer to my face.
My nose is right at the perfect level, so I bury it between her pussy and inhale.
Aria gasps for air as I take in her feminine smell. And if it were up to me, I’d spend the entire fucking day eating her cunt to make up for the year we’ve spent apart.
I get up and palm her small breasts. They fit so perfectly in my hands.
I stand in awe, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the sight before me as if it were the first time. “You’re fucking perfect, Aria.”
My eyes trace the delicate lines of her collarbone, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale she takes.
“Get in,” I instruct, needing a moment to get over the way my heart somersaults.
