Unable to keep myself from him a second longer, I brought my face close to his, gently ran my nose along the length of his, then kissed his lips tenderly. He didn’t respond at first. I think he might have been surprised by the sudden show of affection. But then he wrapped an arm around me and spun, taking me with him. Now draped over his tall frame, our kisses turned slow but passionate. He snaked his arms around me and I ate as his lips as he reached down to squeeze me the cheeks of my ass.

I was floating from the feelings he inspired. Everyone in my life treated me as if I were weak. But not Ettore. He pushed me far outside my comfort zone, knowing I was strong enough to take what he gave. And just before I did something stupid like declare my endless love for him, quite suddenly, I was pushed back onto the mattress.

I felt the loss immediately. My pussy ached from it and our combined juices wept out of me like tears of mourning. I blinked at the abrupt separation and frowned gently as I watched him, naked and proud, saunter to the pile that was his clothes and begin to dress.

The silence was long and deadly. I couldn’t bear it a second longer, so I filled it with asked something I’d wished to know since I first laid eyes on him.

“How old are you?” came the hesitant question.

He pulled up his pants, buttoned and zipped them, then answered brusquely, “Thirty-seven.”

Oh. Wow. Okay then.

He was much older than I thought.

I didn’t really know what else to say. I guess conversation wasn’t really Ettore’s thing either because once he shrugged on his shirt and slipped on his shoes, he held onto his jacket and tie then moved towards the open doorway.

I couldn’t hide the way my expression fell and my gut sank heavily.

Baffled, I stood on shaky legs and gripped the edge of the comforter, pulling it up and around me as I rushed to follow him. I paused three-quarters of the way down the stairs, watching him in the foyer, and I had to have sounded pathetic when I asked a quietly flustered, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t even look at me as he finished buttoning his shirt and spoke tonelessly, “Listen, I gotta go. You’ll find clothes in the dresser and the kitchen has been stocked.”

What?

I was flabbergasted when he ended on, “Make yourself comfortable,” before opening the front door, stepping out and closing it behind him with a firm snick.

Numb, I stumbled into the next room and watched through the window as he stepped into his SUV, started the engine and backed out of the driveway. My heart clenched as he drove away without hesitation.