Page 36 of Bella Rosa
He takes a deep breath. "I have a sailboat that I like to take out every now and then. My grandfather bought it right before my dad moved to the States. My dad never cared for sailing, so when my grandfather passed the boat was left to me. My grandfather taught me how to use a compass to navigate, how to tie all the ropes for the sails, and how to use a map instead of just a GPS. I guess you can say that's my way of keeping his memory alive."
I push up on my elbow so I can examine it further. "Why is the compass upside down?"
"My grandfather used to say, 'The expected way isn't always the best way. You need to go to your true north.' I guess that just always stuck with me."
I take a deep breath and look up at him. His hair is all tossed about. His shoulders are relaxed. He seems content. I like him this way. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. Where do we go from here? How can I move on from this in less than two weeks? "What do we do now?"
He wiggles his eyebrows and flips us so I am under him once again. He kisses a trail down my neck causing my back to arch off the bed. "We can go again."
I giggle and try to wiggle free. "You know that's not what I meant."
He sits up and looks me in the eye. He pushes a few stray hairs out of my face as he pulls me back into his lap. "What do you want from this?"
I can't answer that question. "I don't know. This is just all so new and unexpected. I still need to focus on writing my article and my blog. That's my dream." At least I think it is. I don't know anymore.
"How about this—we enjoy our time together while you're here. We don't think about what happens in two weeks. We just take it day by day. That's all we focus on because all I know is a few weeks with you is better than nothing at all. I'm not afraid to admit it, that was the best sex of my life. This has been my favorite day, well, ever. I'll take whatever you will give me, Rosa."
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod my head. "Okay."
"Okay." The doorbell startles me. Matteo jumps up and starts looking through our clothes on the floor. "That's probably Gino. He texted me earlier and said he would just bring the gelato by. I'll be right back." He pulls on his boxers and walks out the door, closing it behind him.
I get up and start gathering my clothes. What do I want from this? I have no idea. I can't come to terms with what I'm feeling. It doesn't make sense. I'm starting to feel things for Matteo that I don't understand, and I'm losing feelings for something I've loved for as long as I can remember. Writing. At least the writing I have been doing anyway.
Writing the article for Foodie seems so empty, like it doesn't represent me at all. I feel so free when I write for my blog. I feel free when I'm with Matteo too. Why has this trip changed me so much?
I finish gathering my clothes, but pull on Matteo's shirt from earlier instead. I can't stand the thought of putting my tight clothes back on. Plus, I just want to wear his shirt. It comes to my mid-thigh, so I just pull on my panties instead of my shorts.
I can hear talking in the living area, so I decide to freshen up a bit in the bathroom while I wait for Gino to leave. I splash some cold water on my face and look at myself in the mirror.
What do you want, Rosalie? What will make you happy? I thought I knew. Now, I'm not so sure.
When I walk back out into the bedroom, Matteo is waiting for me, still shirtless. He grins at me. "Shirt thief."
I laugh and motion like I'm going to pull it over my head. "Oh I'm sorry, do you want it back?"
He shakes his head as he walks toward me with fire in his eyes. "I want you to take it off, but I don't want it back." He scoops me up and kisses me. Even just a kiss with him is better than sex with anyone else.
He sets me back on the ground and breaks our kiss. I look up at him with disappointment evident on my face. He laughs and kisses my nose. "Let's eat some gelato, then we can go for round two." He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I'm greeted with a tub full of gelato on the kitchen island.
I let go of his hand and skip over to the island so I can admire my creation. Matteo comes up behind me and gives my butt a little smack. "Don't slobber all over it." I sit down on one of the bar stools and bring my legs up under me.
"I can't help it. Have you seen my masterpiece? Perfection." I give an exaggerated chef's kiss.
He gathers two spoons and walks back over to me. "Your masterpiece?" He hands me a spoon. "If I remember correctly, you couldn't even lift the mixing bowl on your own."
"I would have done it on my own eventually, thank you very much."
He crosses his arms and laughs at me. That dick. "Oh I know you would have. The real question is how much of the mixture would have ended up on the floor?" Oh that's it.
I jump off the stool and wiggle my spoon at him. "Oh it's on mister."
He puts his hands up and starts backing away from me slowly. "No violence."
I take one step toward him and before I know it my back is pressed up against his chest. How in the world does he move that fast? I try to wiggle free. "That's not fair!"
He laughs and tightens his hold around me. "You were the one pointing a weapon at me. I had to defend myself."
I squeal when he picks me up bridal style and places me back on the stool. He pulls my spoon out of his pocket and hands it to me. I look at the spoon in disbelief. "How did you manage to put my spoon in your pocket during all that?"
