(Highest Ranking #76 in Romance)
Chiara is a journalist. A good one. For the world to know that, all she needs is a scoop. Her instincts tell her that the Riders of Tyr have a few stories to offer to the public and she decides to expose them. Will h...
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Chiara
We spent the rest of the day together, sun-bathing, sleeping, kissing, exploring each other's bodies. We stayed out till it got chilly and then he helped me back in the house. We had dinner with the leftover sandwiches and we sat outside looking at the stars. Then without a word, he picked me up and carried me down the hall to his room.
His room is bigger than the one he had me in, with a tall, big bed - well, he does need a big one - which he probably made himself. One wall has a big bookcase with many books some of which I was surprised to find in the library of a biker.
We talked in between long silences. Nothing close to how our lives are now. We both know that him being a Rider and me a reporter is the thorn in our sides. We talked though I carried most of the conversation but I didn't care. He doesn't like talking too much but when he does, he makes sure that he has something to say. I value that.
So, we talked about his life in the reservation and my childhood in my mother's vineyard and how important nature was to us. We talked about the strength of our mothers and the disappointment we must be to them. He talked about carving and I talked about wines.
Then we stopped talking altogether and let our bodies take over. He became everything, changing like the sky. He was rough and he was gentle, he was full of light and buried in darkness. And I wanted all of him, each part he showed me.
When we were done, he gathered me to him and let his lips fall on my neck before drifting off to sleep. And that's where we are now. I am curled up with my back against him, his whole body touching mine, stark naked. His breathing is slow, calm and he is fast asleep. I can't sleep, I just enjoy the pleasure I get by feeling him so close and relaxed.
He was so tense and sad when he talked about Diane and her betrayal. And then he was so tender with me. It makes me happy and proud that I could be the reason he let go of his pain. But it scares me as well. It too much, more than I've ever experienced before. This man is a lot in all aspects and my poor, untrained heart is straining to contain what is happening. I fear it might just burst. Still, that's not enough to make me want to leave his arms as we lay here.
My fingers move lazily over his thick, velvet arm and I leave one soft kiss on his hand that he has secured around me. It is not a restraining hug, it's protective and I love being safe in his embrace. I tighten my arms around his and I drift off into a deep slumber.
***
When I wake up next morning, I have a smile on my lips and I turn to the pillow next to mine. He is not there and I hear him shuffle in the kitchen. He is making breakfast! I don't need breakfast, I need him. I need him with an insatiable hunger that takes over my body as if I was some teenager with raging hormones.
I go the toilet in haste to pee and brush my teeth with my finger and then I look for something to wear. Me, that wears strict blazers and suits for work, I never felt more comfortable in my life in his clothes that make me feel dwarfed, like a little girl.
