Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack

12

Nicco

When I arrive at Destiny’s house, she’s putting a small cooler and beach bag in the back seat of her white Acura SUV.

“Good morning. Perfect timing,” she says, smiling brightly at me. I can’t see her beautiful blue eyes behind her sunglasses. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Good morning. I do,” I say, handing her a rolled-up wad of shorts, a T-shirt, and underwear that she puts in a separate bag. “Do you need to get anything else from inside?”

“Nope. I just need to use the bathroom and lock up. If you need to as well, I can go upstairs.”

We both go in and meet back in her foyer.

“You can leave your keys here so they don’t get lost in the sand,” she says, pointing to the seashell on the small table next to her shoe bench. “Ready?” she asks, taking a large sun hat from one of the hooks above the bench.

I drop my keys in the seashell. “Let’s go.”

As we drive, I tell her more details about my meeting yesterday and we discuss the three agencies and people I met with, as well as who I’d like to work with.

The drive isn’t long. She parks and we unload her car, I take the cooler, she puts on her hat and takes her beach bag. Finding a spot on the sand, she pulls a large blanket out of her bag and lays it down then sets her bag on a corner. She reaches in and takes out four rocks then places one on each corner of the blanket. Damn, she’s right. She’s one organized woman.

She takes a small purse out of her bag. “I’m going to go get us an umbrella and some chairs. Watch our stuff, okay?”

I take her arm in my hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“This is part of my tour, right?”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll pay.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Nicco, you don’t have to pay for everything. I know I’m in a slump right now, but I’m not poor.”

There’s her feisty, independent side. So cute and so frustrating. “I know you’re not. This is part of our arrangement. You’re bringing me here because I asked you to.”

She sighs.

“Look, if we were dating, I’d let you pay for things sometimes. But, you’d never date me, would you?” I wish she didn’t have sunglasses on, hiding her expressive eyes. They usually tell me more than her words. I’m not sure she’ll answer the question.

She jolts back just the slightest bit.

“I…”

I save her the discomfort. I know the answer. “I’ll get the umbrella and chairs.”

I go to the stand where we entered the beach and pay for one umbrella and two chairs that I help the kid carry to our spot. Once the umbrella is securely in the ground, we arrange the chairs and sit down. She shows me the variety of snacks she’s packed for us, some healthy, some junk food. I love that about her, she’s very healthy, but has this little bad-girl inside when it comes to snacks.

“I brought my interview questions with me. Do you want me to ask you them now? Or do you want to wait until later?” she asks, taking a notepad and pen out of her beach bag.

“I’m not ready to go in the water yet. You can ask me some now.”

“Okay. Most of them are probably ones you typically get.”

“Then it should be easy.” I chuckle.

“And, if there’s anything you don’t want to answer, you know you don’t have to. That was our agreement.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. What got you interested in acting?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I loved watching movies. Acting always seemed like a fun job. As I got older and began learning more about what goes into really stepping into a character and the craft of acting, it fascinated me. I liked learning about the psychology of the person I was playing. So, I auditioned for different roles, small ones, and I got a few every now and then. Nothing big, you know, just supporting roles, but never the lead. And the one time I finally got the lead, I was fired. That knocked me off my feet. I figured I wasn’t cut out for acting and that’s when I became a gardener. I almost didn’t take the role as Matteo because of my gardening job. When they asked me to audition, I was in the middle of a gardening project for a customer and I feel bad because I never finished it.”

She writes quickly on her notepad as I answer. “Well, we’re all very happy you auditioned and got the role,” she says, adjusting the strap on her aqua coverup and shifting her position. “What’s your favorite song on your album?”

“Hands down, “Dad.” I wrote it for my dad. It has great meaning for me.”

“I’ve heard it. I love the lyrics you wrote. It’s a beautiful tribute to him.” She pauses. “Who do you want to do a movie with?”

“Robert De Niro,” I say, without hesitation.

“Why him?”

“That guy can master so many different types of roles. He’s truly inspiring.”

“I’ve loved every movie I’ve seen him in. You’re right, he’s extraordinary in every role he plays. Okay, what’s your favorite food?”

“Mmm, there’s nothing better than Mamma’s pasta,” I say, curling all the fingertips on one hand to my pursed lips and then spreading my fingers outward as I move my hand back, making a kissing sound, and smile.

She giggles. “Good answer. Do you have a favorite tattoo? And if you do, what’s the meaning of it?”

“They each have a special meaning, but this one,” I hold out my left hand to show her the top of my hand with the phoenix and skull inked into my skin, “is my favorite. You see the phoenix, when it dies, it’s born again. And the skull inside represents bad things. So, when bad things try to get me, the phoenix will take them and fly away with them.”

More scribbling on her notepad. “Almost like a guardian angel.” She has a way of bringing lightness to my dark side.

“Almost. Let’s do two more questions. Then will you walk with me on the beach?”

“Okay. What keeps you humble with your fast rise to fame?”

“The thing about fame is that it can be gone just as fast as it came.” I snap my fingers. “Even though I may be on the rise right now, tomorrow it can all be gone. I’m grateful for every day of this life I get to live.”

“Life can change in the blink of an eye.”

“This is why we must be grateful. Life isn’t about money and fame. Those are things we desire and dream about having and there’s nothing wrong with wanting those things. I want them. But life is about love, generosity, and living in your essence every minute of every day. It’s about baring your soul and protecting the souls of those you love.”

As I speak, she stops writing. She stares at me like she’s hanging on to every word. I want to know what she’s thinking right now.

“Um, okay. One more question here and then we can do the rest later. What was your childhood like?”

“Do you mind if I answer while we walk? Or do you need your notepad?”

“No, we can walk. If I forget something, I’ll just ask you again.” She stands and puts down her notebook and pen then takes off her hat, wraps her small purse across her body, and puts her hat back on. “Do you want to put your wallet in here?”

“Okay.” I stand, hand her my wallet, and take off my shirt, tossing it onto my chair.

“Okay,” she says, under her breath as her eyes sweep quickly across my torso and she takes my wallet, tucking it into her purse, not looking back up at me.

We walk in silence to the edge of the water.

“Your hat is cute. You need it to protect your fair skin.”

“Yeah, I burn easily.”

“I bet.” I want to see more of her creamy, fair skin. “There was nothing special about my childhood, I don’t think. My dad worked hard. He was in construction. He had the most amazing work ethic. But he also made time for family. Family was very important to him. He understood the values of life. By my age, he had a stable job, was married, and had two kids.” Tightness wrings around my chest at the reality that I’ve not accomplished any of these things. A reality that was shoved in my face four years ago. “I always looked up to him and wanted him to be proud of me.” I swallow, trying to ease the constriction in my throat. I miss him every day.

“I think he would be very proud of the man you’ve become.” She looks up at me, the sincerity in her voice overwhelms me.

“Even though I’m a playboy?” I tease.

A wave washes onto our feet.

“Well, that’s currently under debate.” Her smile carries a playfulness.

“Am I allowed to ask you questions?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Hmm, healthy or unhealthy?” She reaches down and picks a shell out of the sand.

I laugh. “Both.”

“Healthy would be the spinach salad I make and unhealthy would be chocolate molten lava cake.” Tilting back her head she lets out a delicious growl that makes me wish we were alone and naked.

“That good, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” She nods with a huge smile on her face.

“Okay, another one. Why do you think you’re struggling with your career right now?”

She takes a long inhale and blows it out, dragging her toes through the wet sand. “I really wish I knew. If I knew, I’d have a chance at fixing it.” She shrugs. “I can’t seem to find inspiration. My life’s pretty boring these days. Candi and I used to do a lot together and many of our adventures fueled some fun stories. I have friends other than Candi, of course, but most of them have nine-to-five jobs and a lot of them have babies now so we don’t get together much, let alone do things like girls’ weekends away. My love life leaves a lot to be desired so my writing’s been falling flat there as well.”

“So, your life is lacking adventure and really good sex.” I can’t help but smile as I tease her.

She nudges my arm with hers. “Thanks, very helpful.” She chuckles.

“What about this Henry guy you mentioned? You’re sure there’s nothing there?”

“I’m sure. Life would not be an adventure with Henry. I wouldn’t date him anyway.”

“So, you wouldn’t date me, you wouldn’t date Henry. What type of person would you date?”

“I dated my fiancé.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I know. And Candi keeps reminding.” She chuckles.

“So, based on what I know about you so far, I’m guessing you haven’t had sex for three years.” I get itchy when it’s been three weeks, I can’t imagine going three years.

“You make it sound so awful.”

“I can take care of that for you.” I exaggerate a sleezy voice so she knows I’m joking.

“Um, I thought you were trying to prove you’re not a playboy.” She laughs. “Not all of us want to have meaningless sex with people and then move on.” She picks up another shell and hands it to me. “Here, for you to remember your trip to the beach. Ready to walk back?”

“Thank you.” I take the shell from her. The sentiment tugs at my heart. I’ll remember her more than I’ll remember the beach. “Yeah.”

We turn around and walk the shoreline back toward our umbrella.

“I love the sound of the waves. They make their own music,” she says.

“It’s very peaceful. Someday I’ll have a house on the beach.”

“I have no doubt that you will.”

We walk the rest of the way listening to the waves sing their melody and letting the water caress our feet.

“I’m going to go in the water. Will you bring my shell back for me?” I hand her the shell she picked for me.

“Sure. Enjoy your swim.”

Destiny

There’s much more to this man than meets the eye. He’s insightful, pensive, sincere. This is unexpected. I do hope he puts his T-shirt back on when he comes back. His bare chest is distracting. Even though I’ve already had the pleasure of stroking his chest and abs with oily hands, just the sight of him makes my body tingle. Sure, I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men before, but no one like him. His broad chest expands out to his toned shoulders and narrows toward his waist and that sexy V-line. Mediterranean skin covered with the perfect amount of hair, and hard nipples, always. Beautifully outlined six-pack without being overly rippled. He’s the kind of unrealistic fantasy-man I write about, and he’s so very real. Thank goodness for my sunglasses, at least he can’t see me ogling him like a teenager.

I take waters out of the cooler for us then sit back in my chair, get out my book, and start reading. About ten minutes later, Nicco’s walking up from the water. Oh God, here comes that slow-motion time-warp again. He’s dripping wet, pushing his hair back off his face, arm muscles tensing as he does, glistening in the sun, and walking toward me. I can’t even look away. My gaze follows a trickle of salt water that rides the center channel of his chest down his abs and is then captured by a tiny curl of hair at his naval. Holy hell, this man is hot. Whoowh. Get a grip on yourself.

“That was fast.”

“Yes, I just wanted to cool off before our next round of questions,” he says, grabbing his towel and rubbing his hair with it. “I need a cigarette.”

“You’ll have to go to the parking lot, there’s no smoking allowed on the beach.”

“Okay,” he says, taking out a cigarette from his pack and grabbing a very worn looking lighter. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returns, he doesn’t put his shirt back on. So distracting.

“Okay, I’m ready for more questions,” he says, sitting back in his chair and taking a swig of water. “Can I have some of those chips you brought?”

“Of course.” I hand him the bag of chips and a paper towel. “All right, here we go. What motivates you when you’re having a bad day?”

“My fans. I would be nothing without my fans. They show up for me and I appreciate them so much. I must show up for them.” He tosses a chip in his mouth.

“What do you want for your future?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. “I want a fulfilling life. I want my life to mean something. I want to leave my mark in some way.”

“Do you want a family someday?”

“I…” He hesitates. “I do, but I don’t know if that’s going to be possible for me.”

“Why?” Surely at some point he’ll want to stop sleeping around and settle down. His playboy persona, I’m learning, is quite contrary to who he truly is.

“It’s my work, my lifestyle, the traveling. It’s not so good for a relationship,” he says, opening his hands in a sort of surrender then folding them together.

“Is that why you sleep with women, but rarely have relationships with them?”

“It’s best for both of us,” he says, removing his sunglasses and putting them on the blanket. He takes a breath, locking his eyes on mine. “That way there’s no emotional attachment and no one gets hurt,” he deadpans.

“I guess that’s one way to go through life.” There’s something more behind this. I can feel it in the incongruence of the words he speaks and the emotions hidden behind them. His words are empty, but there’s something beneath them. Pain. “What’s the one thing you want your fans to know about you?”

“No, not me. I want them to know that they can do anything. If I have any impact on this world, I want it to be that I inspire people to never give up on their dreams. That anything is possible.” The passion he has when he talks about his work and his fans is powerful, endearing.

I read the next question. Maybe I should skip it. I can make up those parts.

“What’s the next one?”

“Oh um, what scares you?”

“That’s what made you hesitate?”

“No, I had something else, but I don’t need to ask it.” Stop talking, you’re sounding suspicious.

“What scares me? Failing. Failing scares me. When I got fired from that acting job, I felt like a complete failure. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”

“Feeling like you failed at something you really want is an awful feeling.” I take a sip of water and get an organic granola bar out of my bag. “What scares you about being in a relationship?”

He looks at me for a moment, saying nothing. Then he speaks. “I don’t want to answer this one.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Yup, there’s definitely something deeper here. I’m not going to push him. I said I’d respect his decision to decline to answer anything I asked. But, I’m so curious. “Here’s the last one. What’s your biggest fear in life?”

He leans forward in his chair a little. “That I’ll never fall in love or have a family.”

My heart sinks in my chest. What happened to him?

“That’s the last question?”

I look down at my page and lie. “Yes.”

“No, you skipped one. Ask it. I want to completely fulfill my side of our deal.”

My cheeks heat up. “It’s really just, uh, for the more intimate scenes,” I say, clearing my throat and twisting my pen between my fingers. “So, you know, you can be as vague as you want. I can fill in around it.” I wave my hands briefly, trying to indicate it’s no big deal.

“What’s the question?”

I take a sip of water, stalling. “Right, the question. So, the question is, what turns you on about a woman?” I tilt my head down toward my notebook, pen ready to write, avoiding looking at him.

“I have a question about your question.”

I look up from my notebook and he leans farther toward me. “Physically or about her personality?”

I want to disappear. “Uh, both. Let’s go with both.” I’m a grown woman for heaven’s sake. What’s wrong with me? I’m behaving like a lunatic.

He leans in even more locking his gaze on me. “Physically, her response to my touch, what I see when I look in her eyes, the way her soft skin feels under my hands. For personality, her heart, the way she behaves when no one’s looking, the way she treats others with kindness.” He pauses. “That’s a start anyway.”

Though I’m under the umbrella, I think I just melted into the sand. A light gust of wind blows, breaking his gaze on me.

As I go to write in my notebook, I drop my pen. He reaches over, picks it up, and hands it to me.

“Thank you.” I look at him briefly. “So that was uh, touch, eyes…” I scribble. “Skin was in there. Her heart, kindness. Okay, got it.” I close my notebook, putting it and my pen in my beach bag. “Thank you. This will all be really helpful for my book.” Suddenly I sound like I’m solidifying a business transaction. “I appreciate you following through with your end of the deal.”

“It’s my pleasure. Can we go in the water now?” he asks, standing up.

“Definitely. Go ahead.”

“You’re not coming?”

“No. I’ll stay here and watch our stuff.”

He walks away and over to an older couple under their umbrella to the left of us. Then he comes back.

“This nice couple will watch our things for us. Come on.” He waves his hand.

“It’s okay. Really, you go ahead.”

“Why won’t you come with me? I want you to come.”

Ugh. Now I’m being rude. Gritting my teeth, I take a deep breath and take off my hat. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I take off my coverup and sunglasses, trying my best to conceal any look of embarrassment that might be smeared all over my face.

“Come on.”

He waves to the couple as we pass them and they wave back. We walk to the water’s edge and it’s a little chilly splashing up my legs. I take a few more steps in and it’s still pretty cold. By the time I’m thigh-deep, he does a shallow dive under the water. Slowly wading in, I get up to my stomach.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, swimming back to me.

“A little cold too.”

“You’re cold?”

I nod. “A little.”

“Just dive in. You’ll get used to it.”

I chuckle. “You don’t know my body temperature issues.”

“I know you get cold easily.” Now I’m in up to my breasts and sink my arms under the surface, shivering.

He’s farther out. I can’t go out to where he is because I’ll be under water.

He swims over to me. “Can you swim?” he asks.

“Yes, I can swim. I just don’t swim in the ocean much.”

He laughs. “But you live at the beach.”

“I know. A lot of times it’s just too cold for me so I don’t go in all the way.”

“Here.” He takes my body in his arms. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says, guiding my legs around his waist. “I can take you out a farther and keep you warm.”

What is he doing?How the hell am I in this situation right now? In an ocean, with Niccolo Mancini, my legs wrapped around his body.

“Nicco, maybe we shouldn’t be like this, so close. I’m sure people have recognized you by now.” I nod toward the shore. “I can’t imagine you want pictures taken of us like this. It would misrepresent you.”

“Pictures will always be taken and always be misinterpreted,” he says, as I tremble in his arms and he presses me against his body. “Are you shy about your body?”

“No.” My teeth chatter as I lie. “A little, maybe.”

Moving his hands to where his thumbs are just under my breasts and his fingers wrap around my back, he pushes my body back from his.

Our faces only inches apart, he gazes into my eyes. “Destiny, you are a very, very sexy woman. You should never feel anything less than that.”

I shiver in his arms, speechless, and wrap my arms around his neck, looking back toward the shore. If I wasn’t so cold right now, I’d probably be turned on.

“I like your belly ring. When did you get it?”

“That was a Candi-adventure. She wanted to go into the city for her birthday. She got a tattoo and I got my navel pierced. I think it was her twenty-third birthday.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Thank you. I’d always thought they looked so cute on other girls.”

“It doesn’t look cute on you. It looks sensuous.” With our bodies pressed together, I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart racing.

Silently, we stand in the ocean, the water enveloping us.

“I like having you wrapped around me.” The sincerity in his words cradles me.

I like being wrapped around him. Knowing I’ll never be in this situation again, for a brief moment, I let go of how intimidated I am by him and surrender into the safety, comfort, and euphoria of being in his arms. I know the moment will pass in a heartbeat so I revel in it, etching this surreal intoxication in my mind and on my heart.

My shivers stop, I curl my neck around his, and relax into him. He sways gently with the water as it bathes us. He squeezes tighter around me, dropping his head to my shoulder. We’re fused together as one.

The sun is hot on my skin and I know I need to get back under the umbrella. I don’t want to let go of him. But I have to. I draw my body apart from his. Our faces so close, the intensity is undeniable. A mixture of desire, connection, and respect sits in the space between us.

His eyes move to my lips. Mine are drawn to his.

“Destiny…” His stillness sends a rush through me.

The current of the water knocks his balance, disrupting the moment, severing our gaze.

“I think I’m ready to go back in,” I say reluctantly.

“Your skin is getting pink.”

“You can stay out here, I’ll just swim back in.”

“No, I’ll come with you.”

He walks to where I’m able to stand and we head back into the shoreline then up to our spot on the beach. Well, I look more like a mall-walker because I’m walking so fast to get to my towel and dry off. As we pass the older couple, I wave at them and he thanks them.

Grabbing my towel from my chair, I quickly pat the beads of water off my skin so I can warm up. “Brrr.” I tilt my head to the side and squeeze the water from my ponytail. As I do, I catch his gaze on my breasts. My nipples are hard as a rock.

“When we’re dried off, how about we go to the winery?” he asks.

“Okay, that sounds good.”

He moves his chair into the sun and lays out. Putting on my sunglasses, I sit and soak in his glorious body since this is the last time I’ll see this much of it in real life.

Once we’re dry, we pack up our things, wave to the older couple, and head to my car.

“Where can I change?”

“I’ll throw the blanket over the windshield and we can close the towels in both doors. You can change in the car. Is that okay?”

“Hah!” he laughs. “Okay, if that’s what we’ve got, then that’s what we’ve got.”

“Any women walking by have probably already seen you naked anyway.” Well, that was bold of me. And now, I’m thinking about him naked.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “You have a point.”

We cover the windows and he gets in. I can think of nothing other than Niccolo Mancini being naked in my car. My head starts on a fantasy that quickly ends as he gets out.

“Do you need me to hide you?”

I chuckle. “No, I’m a woman, it’s easier.” I hold up my sundress.

He helps me remove the blanket and towels. I open my door and quickly slip out of my coverup and put on my sundress. He watches me.

I drive the few miles to the winery and we don’t speak. I’m thinking about being in his arms, his lips inches from mine, and desperately aching for him to kiss me. “Control”by Zoe Wees comes on the radio, the lyrics ringing true. Is he thinking about holding me in his arms? Why did he do that?

We only stay at the winery for one tasting and both end up liking the same wine. He buys two bottles and we go to Malibu Farm for an early dinner. As we eat, our conversation is disconnected, almost stilted. We’ve both withdrawn. Regardless of what I’m feeling, nothing more than friendship can exist between us, if that’s even possible once he leaves and continues on his path to stardom. He’s quieter than usual. There’s more than one stolen glance above the rims of our wine glasses.

On the drive home, he remains distant, as do I.

“You look like you’re far away somewhere,” I say.

He shifts his gaze from staring out the window to me. “No, I’m not far away. I’m here.”

“Is something on your mind? I’m a really good listener.”

Reaching over, he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I know you are. No, nothing’s on my mind.” His tender smile rips at my heart as his gaze lingers on me. He might be a good actor, but he’s a terrible liar.

I pull into my driveway and we unload the car. As much as he’s able without knowing where things go, he helps me put things away.

“Do you have a vacuum for the car?”

“I do. It’s in that closet by the stairs,” I say, pointing.

“I don’t know where anything else goes in here, but I can vacuum out the sand.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say, pleasantly surprised.

By the time he comes back in, I’ve finished putting everything away.

“Do you want a glass of wine before I go?” he asks.

“That would be nice.”

I give him the bottle opener and get two wine glasses. Silently, he pours the wine into our glasses. He hands a glass to me, takes his glass and the bottle of wine, and walks toward the back porch.

“The sky is pretty tonight,” he says, stepping onto the porch.

“Twilight is my favorite time of day.” I sit on one side of my swing, leaving room for him.

“Why’s that?” he asks, sitting back into the swing next to me.

“I love a beautiful sunset, but twilight is like the last few seconds before you fall asleep at night. You fluff your pillow.” I fluff a pillow and hug it to my chest, curling my leg under me. “Wiggle around and get comfortable, and start to quiet your mind. Then there’s that blissful few seconds where you’re not asleep, but not awake, just at peace. At twilight, that’s when the colors morph from bright and brilliant to soft and celestial.” I sip my wine.

“I love how you describe things. This is why you’re such a good writer. The way you use words conveys emotion.”

I smile.

He looks out to the ocean. “You leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, after I help my mom in the morning.”

“Are you going to be okay on the plane?”

He remembered.“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll pack my emergency medicine.”

“Okay, good. Please text me when you arrive so I know you got there safely. Otherwise, I’ll worry the whole weekend.”

I’m so confused. I felt his energy shift throughout the day from friendship, to almost seductive, to tender, to detached. And now he’s going to worry about me? What’s going through his head?

He excuses himself and walks down to the shoreline. Though the sky is darkening, I can see the smoke trail out of him.

We spend the next hour making small talk about what Candi and I will do in Hawaii, what he’ll do back here, and then we confirm our plans for our trip to San Diego when I get back.

As the sun kisses the top of the horizon, we finish the bottle of wine. I shouldn’t have had the second glass, especially after having had some at dinner.

“I should let you get to packing,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand toward me.

I take his hand, uncurl my leg, and rise from the swing. At a leaden pace, we go back into the house and put our wine glasses and empty bottle in the kitchen.

We stand face to face in our usual spot in the foyer.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the end of my ponytail, that was lying on my chest, in his hand. He watches his fingers twirl my hair, then returns his gaze to my eyes. “I had a nice time with you today.” The low, hushed timbre of his voice sends a chill up my spine.

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed being with you, Nicco.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I don’t want to leave. But I know I can’t stay.”

What does that mean? What does he mean by that? I’m lost. My head is slightly tipsy from the wine and I’m melting under the warmth of his gaze.

He leans down and wraps his strong arms around me. I can’t hold back a small gasp. I swear I hear a stifled groan as he presses me against his hard chest and audibly, yet faintly, exhales.

Releasing me, he takes a small step back, and cups the side of my face in his hand. I close my eyes in response to his touch and I tilt my head into his palm. As I open my eyes, he presses his lips into my cheek and then the other. My heart rate quickens.

Returning his face to mine, he stares into my eyes. “Buona notte, mia dolce ragazza,” he hums, just above a whisper. Keeping his gaze fixed on me, he inhales deeply, almost frustrated, then moves his hand from my cheek to the back of my head and presses his lips to my forehead. His audible exhale through his nose sends another shiver through me.

Stepping back from me, he takes his keys and the seashell I gave him from the shell on my table, and walks to the door.

“Good night,” I say softly as he leaves.

I close and lock the door, then turn around, standing frozen in my foyer, my heart beating frantically.

Nicco

I drive back to my hotel with a hard-on and an aching heart. What the fuck am I doing to both of us?