A Woman's World || 18+

Chapter 45

"Whoever tells you that love is the thing we see in movies, feel sad for them. They have never experienced it."

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*Valencia*
I laughed at the way he shivered in the night breeze half naked in his swimsuit. I laughed and let myself free. When I was with him I didn't feel the need to be in control. With his I felt safe and not threatened as I was alarmed for the most part of my life.

I was sitting down on the edge of the pool with my legs in the water starting at his stunning body and finding myself getting lost in his beauty. He was handsome, so handsome. I bit my lower lip and chuckled as I saw him smirking at my drooling and looked away.

But then I felt two strong arms wrapping around my thighs and squeezing them slightly. "Those eyes are driving me insane." He kissed my upper thigh while biting his eyes into mine.

"Emilian-" I hit the water, sinking into the pool with his arms around me moving me to the surface.

"You're so dead." I declared to him when my head was out of the water and he laughed at my high pitched voice and panting breast.

"Get creative, amore. I have heard that line before!" He said as he swam slowly towards me. He spread his hands and he was just about to grip me when I slithered out of his touch and dived into the water swimming for the other end of the pool.

I could hear him through the water chasing me and when my fingers brushed against the wall, he swooped me with his hand out of the pool placing me on the edge of it with his face between my knees.

He pulled his hands out of the water and brushed my hair out of the way, dragging his palms through my cheeks before planting to the sides of my legs and lifting his body up so as his lips would reach mine.

"Kiss me." He demanded softly with a soothing tone that almost made me lean in. Almost. But I didn't move and just stood there looking at his lips.

"Sonno innamorato di te, amore." His voice deepened and his accent thickened as those words escaped his mouth. (I'm in love with you.)

As I had been taking some Italian lessons myself in order to understand his muttering, it took me some while to get a grasp of the meaning. But I had seen Italian romance movies and when it hit me, my eyes widened.
My eyes widened at the purity of those words. My eyes widened because I had been meaning to find the courage to voice them or even admit them to myself but I didn't.

"I'm afraid of that." I whispered to him. It was the first thing that came to my mind. "I'm so fucking afraid of how I feel about you." I said and he lifted himself out of the pool and sat beside me. My eyes were piercing the water. "I can't even look at you." I shook my head letting a tear escape.

I felt his hands turning me around towards his direction. "It's okay." He said, pulling my chin up. I met his eyes. "It's okay." He repeated faintly smiling.

"I don't want to get hurt again, Emiliano. I won't come back from another hit. Especially, yours. Because..." I took a deep breath licking eyes with him after I grasped his hands in mine, "Because, I'm powerless when it comes to you. Because those hands," I squeezed his palms, "can crush my heart." Another tears was shed.

"If I ever hurt you, amore, if I ever crush your heart, I want you to kill me, because I will not be able to bear the pain of knowing that I consciously lost you." He cupped my cheeks, and his eyes became watery. "You asked me once about the girl I was protecting, my first love, you got jealous about it," I smirked, "But I would kill her a thousand times if it meant saving you." And with that he pulled my face closer and we kissed.

We kissed and suddenly I felt a part of my broken soul glueing back to place. All those broken words and promises, all that darkness, it suddenly became clearer. Bearable. With him.

I didn't believe I was worthy of such emotions after what was done to me and what I had done. Those terrible cruel crimes. The thousands of lives I had taken. The children I hadn't hesitated to kill. I didn't believe a person could see and accept all this wicked sickness. How could he accept all the flaws, all the cracks, all the schemes.

Yes, he was bad. He killed. He murdered. He ended lives. He had a darkness of his own. And maybe that was why he understood me. That was why he accepted my baggage. Because he knew what was like lifting that burden up alone.

"I love you, Amore." He whispered in the kiss.

"I love you too." I couldn't have. I shouldn't have. It wasn't planned. It would make things complicated. Yet I did.

And I didn't regret a single breath lost on those words.