open to the sound of his voice, speaking in that language I can't understand, somewhere outside his bedroom.

Pushing myself up slowly from under the covers, my skin is sticky from the last few hours, and outside his window the mid-afternoon light is waning.

I glance at the clock beside his bed. 5:00. Mm. I can feel it between my legs, my tired body still sensitive from the marathon of orgasms. I can smell him on my skin, and it's comforting, somehow. I haven't felt so alive, so... bright, in a long time.

"Ciao." I hear his low voice become quiet, maybe hanging up the phone. His footsteps approach from the hallway, and then he appears in the door frame, in his briefs and a t-shirt.

He studies me a little, my bare body peeking out from beneath his thin sheets. My insides contract at the mere sight of him, his hair messy and his face dusted with today's stubble, unshaven. His dark eyes sparkle, traveling across me from head to toe as I lie in his bed, naked.

My muscles are exhausted but his gaze makes every part of me warm.

"Hi," I say, my voice foggy from sleep.

"Hi." He steps closer and I have a sudden the urge to wrap myself tighter with the silken sheets. My skin shivers as I watch him, tan and toned and I blush as I remember us tangled together and needy, his hands and his body all over mine.

He sits next to me, tucks a stray strand of hair back into place as I lean up against the pillow, clutching the duvet to my chest.

Those dark eyes of his take me in whole, and the weight of his body makes the mattress dip towards him. I find myself leaning closer. He lifts a rough hand up to my face, brushing my cheek gently.

Nero seems impossibly capable of tenderness, of warmth, and it fills me with longing and confusion. Nearly every part of me is greedy for it, but I'm hesitant. A small piece of me is still hurting, and he knows it.

"How are you?" I mumble as he brings his forehead to rest against mine. The sheets fall away from my chest, leaving my skin bare, and the cold air makes my nipples stiffen, my breasts heavy from his nearness.

"I'm good." I feel his hand travel to my hip, leaving a wave of sparks in its path. I can't help the little sigh that escapes my pink lips. "How are you?"

"Good." Before I can even think to maybe put some space or distance between us I find myself wrapping my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Both his hands grip my waist, fingers pressing softly into my skin. My bareness against him is addictive, and I can't find it it me to protest when he brings his mouth to mine, claiming me, once again.

I will never get over how good it feels to kiss him, to have his lips on mine. Slowly his tongue enters my mouth and he leans me softly onto my back, his body resting above me. I can't seem to help the soft moans that escape my swollen lips. His mouth just makes me melt.

I feel so damn weak but I don't really care.

Just as I feel his erection against my belly he pulls away slightly, breaths heavy, his chest rising and falling in time with my own. "Dolcezza," he groans, burying his head into my neck. "Why do I feel like I'm taking advantage of you?"

He leans back and I feel just a little emptier, a haze of want surrounding my dizzy mind. A sigh. "It's not my fault that I can't stop touching you, Nero." A hoarse whisper. My entire being is full of emotions that are driving me completely insane.

He leans onto his side next to me, his elbow pressing into the mattress. He's a little out of breath when he speaks, his voice heavy. "We have to talk about it sometime, you know."

I close my eyes, and maybe he thinks I'm vulnerable and needy and maybe I am but I haven't been able to think this clearly in months. And my brain and my body wants me to submit to everything this man has to give me. Because, he has been nothing but kind and patient, he has satisfied my every craving and my tired body just wants more. "We will." I sigh. "I know."

I turn so that our chests are flushed, pushing my hand up beneath the edge of his shirt to rest against his bare hip. I meet his gaze, to try and tell him everything. So that he knows I'm all here, that I'm not broken or fragile or wounded, not anymore.

I slowly push my fingers through his thick hair, and the softness in his eyes astonishes me, fills me with warmth. I can see how much he cares about me in his expression and it makes my insides flip, it messes with my head, a little. But it's so honest that I know it's real.

A catastrophic part of me knows that he has fallen for me, that I've probably fallen for him too.

"I'm not hurt, Nero." I try to explain it, to put it, this, into words. My voice is a flutter of breath against his face. "I feel... lighter, than I have in a long time." Biting my lip, I try to meet his heavy gaze. "I know that this is wrong but I just don't care anymore, because..." I shake my head, willing him to understand. "I've given up on not wanting you, Nero." His breath is warm against my skin as he remains still, just listens. "Every part of this feels...right, and I promise I'm in my right mind."

Leaning into him, I sink against the feeling of his body, strong and true and so damn perfect. Looking into those eyes, I whisper against his lips. "I'm not broken, Nero." My eyelashes flutter onto his cheek. "Even after everything I want this more than I can explain. More than I can understand."

I feel the heaviness in his exhale. Bringing a large hand to rest against my hip, I hear a sigh escape him. We stay silent for a long time before he speaks. "You know what you've done to me, right?" His voice is so low, his words seep deep into my mind, sink into my flesh. "Since I've known you, I..." He struggles to find the words. Running a hand through his hair, he almost seems flustered. "I can't keep... This world, this job, I—I can't do it anymore."

The confession leaves me weak. It's everything I want to hear, but it seems too good to be true. That I've changed him, made him want to be a better man. God, I want it to be true. But it's so much more complicated than that. Him saying it isn't enough.

"It can't be that easy, can it?" I mumble. I feel sympathy for him. I imagine what it might take to pay for a lifetime of sin, because he has done things I cannot even fathom and I have accepted that as truth.

He grips my hips, and in one quick move he's pulled me on top of him. His eyes smolder when they meet mine. "I'm working on it." I swallow, the heat of his gaze making me weak. He runs his hands slowly down my spine and my skin shivers with want. His fingers roam, brushing slowly, lower, over my bum, and I close my eyes, pressing my face into his neck. "Rosalina," he mumbles, the lowness of his voice sending heat deep into my belly. "I can tell you about it, now, if you want." His lips brush against my ear, he takes my earlobe gently between his teeth, and I lose my breath. "Or we can talk after we take a shower."

The thought of letting him run his hands all over me under the hot water makes me wet, and I'm sure he knows.

He lowers me softly off of him and stands up, grabs my hand and leads me, naked and wanting, to his bathroom.

As he turns to the shower, lets the water run hot, I lean into his back, gently push his shirt over his shoulders. The tanned muscles of his chest ripple as I press myself softly against him, his bareness fitting perfectly with mine.

I feel him tense as I slip my fingers beneath the band of his briefs, sliding them down ever so slowly. I feel him lean into my touch. I lean into his.

Soon he steps under the running water, pulling me with him. The steam fogs up the glass and in seconds he has me pinned to the wall, his lips finding mine, devouring me. His hands press my hips to the cool stone and the hot water slides over us and his hardness rests against my slick belly, sending heat through every part of me.

I can barely think with the soft wetness of his mouth meeting mine, lips parted, my tongue and his. His hands brush slowly over each inch of my body, across my shoulders, down my back, clutching my hips, my waist.

His wet mouth travels across my neck, down, over my breasts. As he takes one of my nipples in his mouth I press myself into his warm hands, shut my eyes and feel the steam rise around us, lean my head against the wall.

Neither of us has much patience for this. It's not long before his fingers press into the bottom of my thigh, lifting my leg up to his hip. With my face resting in the crook of his neck he pushes himself into me in one swift motion, and the feeling is both now familiar and completely exhilarating.

We have each other under the hot water, the sounds of the running shower stifling our moans. The heat melts the tension from my aching muscles, my fingers slide across his skin, his hands hold me tight against him, each thrust sending me high as the clouds.

There is no chance I will ever go back. In his arms I am simply too far gone.

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