Infatuated

Four

I guiltily lay my head against Lorenzo's chest, his skin sticky and hot as his heavy breaths try to even out, slowly coming down from his high. I stare blankly, not entirely savoring the fact we've just had sex. My mind is plagued with remnants of my night with Josephine; the intensity and sensual gratification from just her staring at my physique makes me all the more ashamed of how far I allowed myself to go with her. Thankfully, for the greater sake of my conscience, I excused myself from Josephine's room before we did anything of high caliber, but my mind still stays on the thought of what could have been. Well, that and guilt.

Thinking of these past few days as a bad episode of The Twilight Zone shamefully helps me cope with the actual reality of my actions. I like to think that nothing went down that night, but I can barely look at myself in the mirror without picturing where her hands had been. I have to force myself to breathe steadily and speak whenever we're in the same proximity, and it's torture to my own conscience to see her so nonchalant: as if nothing happened. I have not left Lorenzo's side in the past four days out of fear I'll be left alone with Josephine. Frankly, I'm not scared that she'll tell or hint at anything, but rather that I'll let my temptations get the best of me.

Softly pecking at my hairline, Lorenzo holds my hips up a bit as he slides himself out of me, the sudden loss of close physical contact makes me recall our intimate activities.

"God, I've missed you." Lorenzo mutters breathily, his hand slowly stroking my hair before he rolls us over.

He lightly kisses just below my collarbone, before nestling his head on my breasts, treating them like his own personal pillow. I now run my fingers through his scalp, returning the favor, as I listen to short hums. A pure, loving soul he is, and I can't stop myself from grinning down at the man I'm most fond of. Tracing my fingers along my initials inked on his back, I glance over at the clock, questioning whether we should get ready or not. At least for a moment—while I'm still trapped in this breeding ground for my darkest desires—I find solace in having him beside me.

"We should get up, don't you think?"

Lorenzo mumbles incoherently, his breath fanning over my skin as I chuckle at his poor response. His arms tighten around my shoulders, securing us both to the bed, in an attempt to persuade my thoughts to relax for a few minutes longer. Against my better judgment, we lay in between the sheets for another thirty minutes—up until I'm beyond disgusted by the settling layer of sweat on our bodies.

Lorenzo groans as he rolls off me, my eyes trained on his cast. Maybe he shouldn't have been laying face down for so long. Does that affect the cast or anything? I rise from the bed, quickly sauntering across the room to retrieve my robe. A small grin quips at my lips as I watch Lorenzo place a somber look on his face, seemingly disappointed to see my body wrapped up.

"You are such a man." I playfully remark while kneeling beside him, wrapping his cast so he's ready for the shower. "You see my body daily, you're not missing anything now."

"You're such a tease," he replies. "There was no need to cover up when you'll have it off again in the next five minutes—if even that."

"Well, excuse me for being cold."

We grin at each other, pure adoration glinting in his eyes as I help him stand. The corner of his lips curl up, and I'm more than certain he's about to make a sexual remark.

"Well, I can help-"

"How's your leg feeling?" I interrupt, a tinge of heat flaming under my cheeks at his unsaid implication.

Lorenzo exhales a breathy chuckle, "It'd feel even better if I got to finish my sentence."

I playfully shrug as we enter the bathroom, acting rather casual as I leave him to go turn on the shower. I turn around while stretching, watching Lorenzo rummage through the drawer for something. I find my eyes trailing from his broad shoulders to his firm butt, recollection of the 'show' I nearly gave his sister hitting me immensely.