Only You by K.T. Quinn

29

Molly

The Day We Danced Again

Maybe being stuck in Rome isn’t so bad, I thought as we cuddled again, Donovan on his back and me resting on his broad chest. We had kicked the sheets aside because our bodies were on fire and damp with sweat. I felt my body rise and fall every time he breathed. For a long time, I counted his breaths and filled my nostrils with his wonderful, masculine scent.

“So,” Donovan said after awhile. “Want me to put on a mask?”

My laughter filled the room. “We’re way beyond that, now.”

I felt him nod. “That may have been safe sex, but it definitely wasn’t pandemic safe.”

I giggled despite the grim nature of the joke. “This was worth the risk,” I muttered into his skin.

Donovan took my hand and gently kissed my fingertips. “Now that I’ve gotten a closer look at you, you’re feistier than I thought. Check out these tattoos.”

“Are you serious right now, mister butterfly-tattoo-on-his-hip? Yeah, that’s right. I noticed it when you got in the hot tub.”

“I thought you were checking out my junk.”

“Also yes.”

He looked down at the colorful ink on his upper thigh. “I lost a bet with another cook,” he said simply. “What’s your story?”

I held out my fingers and examined the tattoos. “I’m not much of a rule breaker…”

“That’s been established,” he interrupted.

“…but these small tattoos were the only wild side I had when I was younger. A little rebellion. My girlfriends and I would go out and get drunk, and instead of making mistakes at the bar, we would make mistakes in the ink chair.”

“You all got the same tattoo?”

I nodded and held up my fingers. “The moon was at Amy’s bachelorette party. We were walking back to our hotel and the crescent moon was shining incredibly bright, so we hopped into the first tattoo parlor we saw and got it tattooed on our middle fingers. The heart was after she got back from the honeymoon. She was wearing a wedding ring, and the rest of us said our ring fingers were lonely, so we got the heart tattoo.”

“My knowledge of breakfast cereal is outdated, but that’s two of the Lucky Charms marshmallows,” Donovan said. “Now you need a horseshoe, a clover, a red balloon…”

I gave him a playful little shove.

“What about this one?” He kissed the last knuckle of my pinky finger.

“I don’t know what that one is.”

He blinked with confusion. “You have a tattoo on your finger and you don’t even know what it means?”

“Don’t judge me! We literally just opened the tattoo book to a random page and pointed at the first thing we saw. The tattoo itself doesn’t matter—it’s about remembering the night with the girls. I think it’s a symbol for electrical current or something.”

He gently stroked my hair. “You should come up with a better story than that. Like how you got struck by lightning and it left a scar there, so you got a tattoo to cover it up.”

I laughed. “I’m not interesting enough to pull off a fake story like that.”

“I think you’re interesting as hell.” He reached down and gave my ass a firm squeeze. “What’s more interesting than giving a guy a blowjob inside the Colosseum? This whole trip is going to make one hell of a story years from now, when all of this is over.”

My smile slowly faded. “Just so you know, I’m not normally like this.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not… promiscuous. I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”

“Is that what this is?” he rumbled softly. “Just a one-night stand?”

“Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know. That’s kind of my point: I’m not used to this kind of thing.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Are you implying I am?”

“No, I—”

“You’re totally calling me a man-slut, aren’t you?” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me against his body. “I’ve never been insulted like this before. I’m going to hug you to death.”

I giggled as he squeezed me tighter.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “It will all be over soon.”

“There are worse ways to go,” I squeaked.

He let me go and then brushed his lips against mine. “You can’t call this a one-night stand because it’s our seventh or eighth night together. Plus, we’ve fooled around a lot before finally banging.”

“Good point.” I drummed my fingers nervously on his bicep. “I’ve only had three serious boyfriends in my life, and one of them wanted to wait until marriage, so I’ve only slept with two guys before. And, we didn’t get very creative in bed.”

Donovan smirked. “They sound lame as hell.”

“They were!” I said with a laugh. “But I’m trying to say that I’m not very exciting. I’ve never pushed my boundaries the way I did in the Colosseum, or on the pool table…”

He pressed a finger over my lips to shush me. “Don’t care how you normally are, Feisty. Only care how you feel right now. We’re stuck together until the lockdown ends. And I intend to have a lot of fun with you until then.”

Donovan cradled my head in his hand and pulled my lips up to his. It was the kind of kiss that stirred me inside and made me wonder if he had a third condom in his jeans.

But then he sat up. “How about some dessert from the vending machine? I always crave chocolate after sex.”

“You sound like a girl.”

“Guys can like chocolate too.” Donovan stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Back in a flash.”

He walked across the room without putting any clothes on.

“What are you doing!”

He paused by the front door. “Getting you a bag of cookies.”

“Naked?”

“Why not?” he smirked. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves, Feisty. Might as well make ourselves at home.”

I smiled to myself as he propped the door open and went into the hall.

One thing he said still stuck out in my head. He said he intended to have a lot of fun with me until the lockdown ended. But what about after that? Would we fly home and go our separate ways? That’s what made this feel like a one-night stand rather than something serious. It had an expiration date.

It gave me the freedom to be bold with him, to push my boundaries in a way I wouldn’t do with a normal date, but it also made me wish we had a chance for more.

“Shortbread, or lemon?” Donovan said when he returned, holding out two bags. He was magnificent in the dim light, all of his muscles standing out in wonderful nude contrast.

“Lemon. If I close my eyes I can pretend it’s orange.” I lowered my gaze down his body, then back up to his face. “I would like to formally request that you remain nude for the rest of the lockdown.”

“For you? I think that can be arranged. Especially since I’m out of clean clothes.”

“Your laundry is still on the floor,” I pointed. “Where you dropped it.”

“I don’t want to do laundry now. Doing laundry means leaving this room, and leaving this room means leaving you.” His eyes suddenly widened as he thought of something. “Hey, get dressed.”

“What did I just say about you staying nude?”

Donovan pulled his underwear on, then his pants. “Let’s finish our dance.”

“What dance?”

“The dance from the other night. When I heroically hopped the balcony.”

“It wasn’t that heroic,” I said, even though it had seemed pretty damn charming at the time. “I’m very unhappy that you’re wearing pants now. I was enjoying our cuddling session. I thought you were too.”

“Believe me, I was.” He threw on his shirt. “We can cuddle more later. Right now I want to dance with you, and not just as a gateway to other physical activities.”

I pulled my dress on and followed him out to the balcony. Donovan put some music on his phone and took me in his arms the way he had a few nights earlier, holding me close against his body as we began to sway in a slow dance.

“I haven’t met a lot of guys who want to dance with a woman after they’ve slept together,” I said.

He tilted my chin up. “I’m not like most guys.”

I can see that, I thought as we danced in front of the silent, still city.