Breathless | David Rossi

Chapter Thirty Three

Rossi releases a sleepy sigh, his dark eyes wandering over your small frame. Your arms tucked under your pillow and adding additional comfort for your neck and head, as you snuggle into the material. Your knee brought close to your chest and your other leg stretched out, making a triangle.

He's found that it's one of your favourite sleeping positions, laying on your stomach. He can't help but smile affectionately at you, suppressing the urge to reach out and gently caress your exposed back. Instead, opting to study the way your back rises and falls steadily with each breath, the way your hair spans your shoulders and curls around the frame of your face.

Rossi's heart swells at how angelic you look, the rising sun casting its rays and igniting a golden hue over your skin. Your hair shines in the light, and it makes him fall even harder in love with you, if that was possible.

Giving in to his urges, Rossi gingerly runs a hand down your spine, stopping just where the bedsheet sits over your lower back and travelling up to your shoulders, tracing patterns. In your sleep, you let out a peaceful breath, shifting a little closer to him. He grins, loving how soft your skin is in comparison to his calloused hands.

Propping up on his elbow, Rossi leans down, feathering a kiss on your shoulder and down your back. He glances at the clock, relaxing at the fact that he has a few hours before he needs to consider getting out of bed and leaving your side.

He knows he needs to open up, that it's silently killing you to be in the dark with no way of helping him. And, he doesn't want Strauss to be the first to know, to seem like he confided in her before you. Neither of you has really spoken about that day, hoping to ignore the elephant in the room.

Rossi makes his decision; he's telling you before he leaves. His only fear is what you will do once he's at his interview, unable to leave until Strauss is satisfied. He only prays that you don't hurt and blame yourself more.

Brushing your hair off your face, Rossi peppers a kiss on the side of your head, his lips lingering as he travels to your temple and cheek. The feeling of his warmth wakes you, fluttering your eyes open. It takes him a moment to realise your awake, his grin wide.

"Good morning, anima mia." He murmurs, capturing your lips once you turn your head.

My soul.

You shift onto your back, smiling sleepily as Rossi can't help but glance down at your exposed breasts, before looking into your eyes once again. "Morning." You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to you.

Rossi leans over you, his hand bracing his weight beside your head as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss. You oblige, his lips muffling your moan at the contact of his tongue against yours.

Your lungs ache, burning from the lack of oxygen but you don't want to part. Rossi groans, his palm gliding down your stomach and your thigh, hooking under your knee and bringing it up. You wince slightly as he passes back up your bruised hips, and immediately he pulls back.

"What's wrong?" He asks breathlessly, his eyes wide in fear for hurting you.

"My hips are tender."

He glances down, cursing at the marks. "Fuck Y/N, why didn't you tell me I hurt you?" He tries to control his breaths, looking up at you with regret. "I am so sorry, I didn't realise..."

"David," You sit up, cupping his chin. "You didn't hurt me, you can never hurt me. If I wanted you to stop, I would have called our safe word, but I didn't, I won't ever have to because you don't make me feel unsafe. And I like looking at these, they make me proud to know that I satisfy you. There's nothing worse than being unsatisfied."