WRITER ✓
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Meanwhile, Jayden noticed the way Pablo was smiling at Anastasia when he walked in, he assumed him to be the guy Anastasia did talk about during their dinner.
It was taking a bit longer for them to show up. He didn’t want to assume the fact that his sudden love for the young chef would end up in vain. His love for her was taking a turn in his life, and some one else was going to take her away from his life?
Bella noticed how quiet he had suddenly become, so he refused to eat the remaining of his meal. He drops the payment on the table. Standing up, he left the restaurant.
“What’s with him?” Tessa asked.
“I wish I know.”
But of course Bella knows his attitude would be for no one but the fact that Anastasia was with Pablo. If only he knew how deeply in love Anastasia is for Pablo, he wouldn’t have imagined it to be a normal feeling he could interfere with just a one night dinner.
“Do you think he likes Ana?” Tessa asked again.
“Well, if you ask me, I think he just doesn’t like her, he loves her. Oh poor boy, it’s so sad to say this but… you came late.” Bella said, sounding pitiful.
Anastasia returned with Pablo after an hour. But before then, Bella and Tessa had packed every thing, it was time to close the shop. Anastasia took her bag, with Pablo by her side, they walked in silence through the bus junction.
They boarded a taxi, when they got in he hugged her again, holding her tightly against him, an embrace still on the right side of propriety, one that could still be considered friendly, but only just. When they broke apart, her face was flushed, her eyes shining.
Anastasia made hot tea for him while she went into the bathroom to take a shower. She walks out of the bathroom to the sitting room, she notices he has finished his tea.
“Want more tea?” Anastasia asked.
Pablo glared at her, a part of her body dripping water. The towel around her chest was only covering the upper part of her thigh, and if by mistake, he’d be looking right at her butts.
Instead of answering, Pablo reached for her, putting her small, warm hand on the back of his neck, lifting his lips to hers. They kissed, first lightly, then more urgently, his tongue in her mouth, her hips tilted against his, her Břě@šťs against his chest, her whole body sending a message that was undeniable.
“Where’s your room?” he asked.
She pointed in a direction, and they started kissing again. Her tongue fluttered against his, and his hands were deep in the softness of her hair, and it was like time unspooled, carrying them right back to the night at the garden when they had their first kiss.
He pulled her against him, thinking that he’d never get her close enough, that if he could fold her inside of him, like a mother tucking a baby into her coat, he’d do it. He’d keep her warm, he’d keep her safe, he’d keep her with him, always.
Taking her hand, Pablo led her to her bedroom, which looked much more comfortable for the chemistry to be played — a bed, a dresser, the posters on the wall. She nibbled at his chin, his ear, touching his face with her fingertips, sighing, whispering,
“You feel so good.” Once, she pushed him back, propped herself onto her elbows, and asked, “How long has it been?”
Pablo knew what she was asking, and it wasn’t how long it had been since he’d wanted this moment. He thought back to his last moment with her. “It’s been a long while,” he said.
He realized, now that he had Anastasia in his arms again, naked. Her lush curves and her soft skin, her beautiful hair, her beautiful scars. That was the problem with the girls in the bar. That was the problem with all of them. None of them were Anastasia.
He felt her slip down the bed. She unfastened his pants, eased his briefs over his hips, and brushed the length of his Ç0çƙ with her palm before taking him in her mouth. He sighed, eyes shut, thinking about how unbelievably good it felt, when Anastasia gave a throaty Mõ@ɲ, then rolled her mouth from base to tip and whispered, “Look at me.”
He looked and saw that she had her eyes open, locked on his, as she opened her mouth, hollowed her cheeks, and slid all the way down. He wondered if some other guy had asked for that – I want you to look at me when you do it – or if she’d seen it in a movie, or read it in some magazine.
Five Secrets to Turn Your Guy On.
“You feel so good,” she whispered . . . and then Pablo couldn’t hold back any longer. He plunged inside her, deep into that maddening clutch, that heat. Anastasia Mõ@ɲed, her hands locked onto his shoulders, her breath against his face, her voice in his ear, urging him on.
“Oh, baby,” he gasped as she put her lips against his ear, whispering his name over and over, like a chant, or a song, or a prayer.
But as soon as they were done, Anastasia rolled into his arms, curling herself against his chest, and said, “I missed you!” in the friendly, happily surprised voice of a woman who’d bumped into an old best friend at the grocery store. With her hands balled into fists, she punched lightly at his chest, like it was his fault his father had sent her away.
“I missed you, too,” Pablo said. He’d been smiling for so long he was sure that his face would ache in the morning. “I feel like . . .”
“What?” she asked. “How do you feel?” He remembered how she’d always been playing the unconcerned one, giving him those childish acts like she didn’t care about him, pushing him to give her more than just a “fine” or “happy” or “tired.”
“Like nothing’s changed,” he said. “Like you went out to hang out with some friends or something, and now you’re back… you’re home.”
“Now I’m home,” she said.
~~~~
To Be Continued…