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Maisie laughed again at the insistent look on her mother's face and the shooing motion she made with her hands.
"Go on, Maisie. Make an old woman happy. Besides," her mother said as she held up what looked like a trashy romance novel. "I just got this book from the library and I want to read it. So go on. Shoo!"
There was no point in arguing. Still chuckling, Maisie took her empty glass to the kitchen and then climbed the stairs to the second floor.
She closed the door to her room and sat on the bed. Her mother was probably right; she should take a nap. The morning's storms had left the air humid, and the dark skies and brisk breeze outside told her another storm would be coming in from the Atlantic later tonight. The house's old single-pane windows never kept storm noises of thunder and violent waves breaking on the rocky coast out of her room; she wouldn't sleep much before the diesel engines of tomorrow morning's fishing boats woke her up.
She pulled off her pants, changed into a tank-top, and climbed into bed, hoping for sleep.
It didn't come. Her mind couldn't stop replaying the conversation with her mother and the conversations she'd had with Alessandro this week.
She sighed and glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes. She'd been in bed for fifteen minutes, and if anything she was further away from sleep now than she had been when she'd climbed the stairs.
She sat up and listened. She was alone. Her mother was on the porch; Ben had taken his wife to a doctor's appointment, and they'd mentioned something about doing some nursery shopping afterwards.
She bit her lip. She shouldn't. True, it always helped her sleep, but she shouldn't. It always felt so wrong to do it in her childhood bed.
She slumped back onto the pillow and groaned. All she wanted was a little nap. Was that too much to ask?
What the hell, she thought as she pushed her underwear to the side.
----------------------------------------
"Alessandro Conti, I swear to God, I'm going to . . . I'm going to—"
"You're going to what?"
Startled, Maisie turned to see a smirking Alessandro standing next to her, albeit on the outside of the shower; they'd considered taking a bath, but had decided against it after seeing the cracked, mildewed bottom of the tub.
She raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin in defiance.
"I'm going to refuse to sleep with you again unless you turn up the hot water."
"Empty threat." He chuckled as he turned the shower dial counter-clockwise to increase the hot water. "But seriously, when I said 'get in' I thought you'd check the water first. What were you thinking?"
Maisie glared. "I trusted you."
"Clearly, a mistake." Alessandro smiled, giving her a peck on the cheek as he joined her in the shower.
Maisie sucked in a breath as he dipped his head back under the water. He was gorgeous; dark hair, stubbled face, lean, muscular body . . . she'd seen him naked earlier in the night, but hadn't really studied him; she'd been too nervous, too busy thinking about what they were about to do.
But now? The deed was done and his eyes were closed. She could look her fill.
Alessandro grinned as he emerged from under the shower stream, water dripping from his flattened brown hair. It felt so wonderfully wrong to be standing in the shower with him, watching the water carve patterns around the lines of his chest.
She glanced down and licked her lips, wondering if her mouth could bring him the sort of pleasure he'd brought her. She'd only used her hands with an ex-boyfriend, and only a few times. But with Alessandro? There seemed to be so many appealing options. Like he'd said, they had all night. Perhaps—
"Like what you see, Maisie?"
"What?" she squeaked, wondering if he'd somehow read her mind.
"You first."
Alessandro gripped her waist and turned her around before she had a chance to ask what he meant.
"Hmmm." He reached out and touched her hair before pouring some shampoo on his hands. "I've never washed hair longer than a few inches before; I hope I don't leave you with the mother of all knots."
Maisie closed her eyes as he massaged the shampoo into her scalp. It was weird to have someone else wash her hair; she didn't know what to do with her hands, and the knowledge that he was inches away, staring at her naked body, made her face burn.
"Tilt your head back." His voice sounded rough, but his fingers were gentle as they threaded through her hair. "There, I think it's all out."
She opened her eyes and gave him a curious look as she felt the pads of his thumbs wipe water away from her forehead and eyes.
"Just in case I didn't get all the soap." He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "I'd hate for you to get soap in your eyes, Maisie; you might make another empty threat."
"If it's soap, it might not be such an empty threat," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you remember how much I used to cry when I got soap in my eyes back when we were kids and took baths together?"
"How could I forget something like that?" He laughed as he smoothed conditioner into her hair. "I think you might have burst my eardrum on more than one occasion."
"Oh please, I wasn't that loud."
"No, you weren't." A teasing grin spread across his face. "In fact, I think you were louder a few minutes ago than you ever were back then."
She spluttered as Alessandro tilted her head back under the water, but her indignation fled as soon as his hands moved from rinsing her hair to kneading her neck and shoulders. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch.
She still couldn't believe the night's events: that she'd run into a drunk Alessandro in the hallway, that he'd invited her to his room, that she'd knocked on his door, that they'd kissed.
That they'd slept together.
That she'd invited him to take a shower with her.
The reality of what they'd done crashed down upon her, stealing away her relaxation. She was Alessandro Conti's one-night stand, and he was hers. He'd said all sorts of wonderful things to her this evening, but he'd never indicated this wasn't a one-time thing; she'd never assumed tonight was the beginning of some grand romance, either.
What the hell had they been thinking?
A moan escaped her mouth as his hands brushed up against the bottom of her breasts; she inhaled a quick gulp of air and held her breath, wondering if he'd noticed the unexpected noise.
"Like that, do you?" Alessandro asked as he spanned his hands around her ribs. She bit her lip to stifle any other sound as he reached up to caress her breasts with slick hands; he must've grabbed the soap at some point.
Gathering her wits, Maisie opened her eyes to find Alessandro staring down at her. Happiness, teasing, lust . . . what she saw in his eyes should have made her feel sublime, but it didn't. It made her feel scared, an emotion she hadn't felt all evening; she'd felt nervous and anxious earlier, but never scared. But that look reinforced her worries. What would they be to each other by the end of the night?
She shifted her attention to the soap tray as she felt her body respond to his touch; the heat that accompanied a wetness not from shower water began to build between her thighs, and fresh, flickering memories of what they'd just done roared through her mind, begging to be acted out again. She was having a hard time breathing, too; those memories required far more oxygen than her lungs could get from the bathroom's heavy, humid air.
He was breathing hard as well; she could see his chest rise and fall out of the corner of her eye. He slid his palms around to her back and down to her ass, pulling her body closer towards him as he kneaded her flesh between his fingers. He kissed her clean hair, his breath against her forehead hotter and more humid than the shower air, before skimming his hands back to her breasts, interspersing pinches and pulls and rolls of her nipples with long, gentle, circular strokes.
She knew where this was heading. She just wasn't sure if they should go down this path again.
She thought she'd done a good job ignoring the shreds of her childhood crush for the past four years, burying any conscious thought of him whenever he popped into her mind. When she'd seen him standing in the door to his room wearing nothing but a towel, she'd thought this would just be a fling. Tonight would be their way of both talking to each other again and saying goodbye; the fact that it just happened to let her lose her virginity, which had become a pesky burden in college, had seemed like an added bonus.
But something had changed between them in the time between her knock on the door and the shower, something besides the physical acts of sex and speaking; she didn't know how she'd missed it until now, but she had. That look in his eyes was rebuilding her childhood crush, only this time the crush wasn't with the taciturn boy of her youth; it was with a man she didn't really know.
She didn't fully trust him, either. She trusted him with her body; she knew he would stop if she told him to, and he'd proven that he could bring her pleasure. But she didn't trust him with her emotions, with her thoughts and feelings and hopes and fears.
Why hadn't she realized that sleeping with him would be far more than physical, and that trusting him with her body wasn't enough? That with him, she couldn't separate the physical from everything else? That by giving him her body, she might be giving him far more than she'd bargained for?
"Maisie."
His voice was quiet, but she heard him over the thrumming of the shower water and the screaming thoughts in her head. She ignored him anyway.
"Do you want more, Maisie?" he whispered into her ear. "Do you want more from me?"
Still, she didn't answer. His hands felt so nice, rubbing up and down her arms as his body pressed against her. His lips felt nice, too; he had pulled her earlobe into his mouth, and was running his tongue along the bottom, making her shiver despite the heat around them.
She didn't want to make a decision; she never wanted this moment in the shower to end.
"If you want . . . I've never done anything in a shower before, Maisie, but it might work if you lean back against the wall, grab the handicap bars with your hands, and drape your leg over my other shoulder. We'll adjust if we need to."
"What?" she asked, feeling disoriented from the instructions he'd thrown at her.
"Just lean back and support what weight you can; I'll get the rest." He smiled, his face revealing none of the confusion she felt. "Trust me, Maisie, it will be good."
"Um," she said, trying to stall for time as she stood stock-still. "Didn't you just tell me I shouldn't trust you?"
"I guess you're going to have to figure out when you should and when you shouldn't, won't you?" he said with a wink as he lowered himself before her. "And this is one time when I think it would be in your best interests to trust me."
Alessandro placed his hands on her inner thighs, pushing her legs apart, opening her for him. She sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth grazed along her navel before nipping and nibbling along her thighs.
Her body and mind shouted conflicting directions at her; the former begged her to go along with his request, the latter screamed that she had to get dressed and leave now so that she could cut her emotional losses before they became catastrophic.
She glanced down; his big, brown eyes held the same look as earlier, but he was slowing down. As he'd done earlier in the evening, he was waiting for her lead.
She didn't want him to stop. That was the problem, she realized; she didn't know if she trusted him, but she knew she wanted him. She couldn't deny him, or herself.
Damn him for making this decision hers.
"Don't stop," she said, moving her arms and leg as he'd instructed. She wanted to say something else to him, wanted to make him understand her confusion, but the moment his mouth made contact with her body again she found she couldn't do anything but groan into the familiar stroking sensations.
The sensations weren't familiar for long, however. This was different than it had been earlier on the bed, when she'd taken what felt like ages to figure out what those amazingly pleasurable feelings had been and how to capture and ride them. She knew now that he'd let her find and reach that pinnacle by herself. He'd let her explore, with only a few gentle nudges in the right direction.
Not now. His earlier teasing and nudging was gone; he was pushing her, driving her on, taking whatever control she'd had over her body away from her. She felt pinned into the corner of the shower by him, with no place to go but up as the water crashed down on her.
She yelped as she felt a finger nudge her entrance, surprised at both the unexpected action and the tenderness she felt there. She thought she heard a whispered, "sorry," as the finger went away, but if he'd said it, he'd said it fast, for his pace didn't slow.
Her orgasm hit her hard, much sooner than she'd expected. Her head hit the shower wall, and her legs buckled beneath her as instinct kicked in and she expended all of her energy on pushing herself further into his mouth. She felt him catch her on his shoulders and arms, even as her hips and his mouth found a rhythm together.
"You OK?" Alessandro asked after a while, still kneeling in the tub and breathing hard. "Did you hit your head?"
"I'm OK." Her brain was too fuzzy to say more.
"You sure? Sorry if I hurt you, or pushed too much, or—"
She dropped to her knees, partly because she was too tired to stand, but also because she wanted to be close to him. She saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before she leaned forward and kissed him. The water hitting both of them soothed her, helping her brain return to normal as they rested their foreheads together, breathing in unison.
The anxiety she'd managed to bury moments ago pounded at the edge of her brain, trying to gain entrance, but she pushed it away; she'd deal with tomorrow when the sun rose and it was time to say goodbye.
Besides, who was she kidding? She hadn't pushed him from her mind for the past four years. He was as much her crush now as he'd ever been. She'd savor her night with him and deal with whatever consequences there were later.
His cock was standing out from his body, beneath stomach muscles that were still clenched as he fought for breath. She smiled and reached out a hand to touch him, only to be surprised when he smacked her away.
"I don't think so. One touch from you and I'll be gone. And as long as those really were empty threats, I'd much rather lose it in other ways with you. If you'd like, that is." He stood, smiling as he reached out a hand for her. "Come on. For two people who decided the tub bottom was gross, we're spending far too much time on it."
He washed himself, batting her hands away each time she reached out to help. Later, after they'd finished in the shower, Maisie watched his reflection in the mirror as he tried to comb her hair; her amusement ended when he tugged hard against a knot, and she snatched the comb from his hands.
"Can I ask you something, Less?"
She glanced at him in the mirror before placing the comb on the counter and turning to leave the bathroom. The motel room was small, and she'd climbed onto the bed before he answered.
"I think we're past the point of asking permission, don't you?" Alessandro said as he flopped down beside her.
"I suppose." She rolled over to snuggle against his chest. "Why aren't you going to college?"
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know what I want to do with my life, so it seems silly to go to college."
"But no one knows what they want to do, Less. That's the point of college."
"I think most people have a bit of a clue."
"Maybe." She traced circles on his chest with her finger, pondering what he'd said.
"I'll still go; I just deferred my acceptance for a year. I haven't seen my dad's mother in a couple of years, so I'm going to visit her for a month or so. Then I'll come back to the U.S. and live with my mom's parents in Boston while I look for a job or internship or something. Maybe I'll find out what I want to do, or at least what I don't want to do."
She heard his head move on the pillow, and knew he'd propped himself up to look at her.
"What about you, Maisie? Do you know what you want to do?"
"I know I don't want to be dependent on the land like my parents are. Beyond that . . . I was good at math and economics. Maybe I'll go into finance or something."
His chest shook beneath her as he laughed. "You'd be miserable, Maisie. You saw the Wall Street parents at school; you aren't like them."
"I don't think I need you to remind me how unlike everyone else at school I was. Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful for the education and I'm lucky financial aid covered most of my tuition, but I knew from day one that I wasn't like anyone else there."
"I'm not talking about money; I'm talking about personality. I can't see you being happy chained to a computer for your life."
"Maybe, but it's better than being chained to the weather," she said with a sigh.
"I suppose." He was silent as he twirled his fingers through her damp hair. "Maybe that's my problem. I wasn't really good at anything besides sports."
"You were good at acting."
"Yeah, but that's not exactly something I can make a career out of."
"Sure you could."
"Come off it, Maisie."
"You have talent. I'm not just saying that; everyone thought you'd be a complete disaster in that first play, but you surprised us."
"A complete disaster?" His hand stopped in her hair.
"Yup." She bit her lip. "You, um, you didn't know that?"
"Nope." He laughed. "Between schoolwork and memorizing lines, I didn't have time to pay attention to anything else," he said as he resumed playing with her hair. "Did everyone really think I was going to be bad?"
"Yes," she said with a chuckle. "You have to admit that hanging out with the theater geeks was a bit out of character for you. Sorry," she added as she propped herself up on her elbow. "Why did you try out for that play during the winter of our freshman year? You never showed any interest in acting in Maine."
"I got a nasty stress fracture in my foot playing soccer in the fall. To make a long story short, I needed an artistic exemption from the school's athletics requirement. The play seemed like the best option, so I auditioned." He shook his head. "But those were school plays, Maisie, nothing more. I can't base a career on a high school production of Hamlet."
Maisie rolled her eyes. "It wasn't just students who thought you were good, you know. Mr. Thompson, the drama instructor, once told me I should try out. He said if everyone from Stalton Harbor had half your talent, he'd consider himself a lucky man."
Alessandro smiled, but she had the impression he thought she was humoring him.
"Mr. Thompson then went on to say that when he cast you in that first winter play, he knew you had more talent than any student he'd had in his twenty years at school. He told me he decided then and there to do Shakespeare every winter, the plays with big male parts, with you as the lead. He said you were a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he was right; you were spectacular."
His eyes were widened in surprise, but he didn't speak.
"I can't believe you didn't know all this, Less." She took a deep breath as she chose her words. "You know, I never understood the appeal of Shakespeare when we were growing up. I always thought people said he was great because, well, that's what you're supposed to say about Shakespeare; only an idiot says they don't get what's so great about him. But you changed that for me; after seeing you in those plays, I understood what all the fuss was about. You have a gift; you made me love Shakespeare, and I know I wasn't the only one."
