𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+

LILY

032. TIRAMISU

When I woke up next, I half expected to find myself in bed alone, but the bulging body behind me said otherwise. I didn't resist snuggling back into Royces' warm body and moaning appreciatively. His arm reached around my waist, grazing the flesh of my stomach; his rough palm gripped my breast gently.

It was a nice feeling, different from when I did it myself. I feel safe and secure. I closed my eyes again and relished in his warm embrace for a few moments longer before hearing his sharp inhale. He shifts behind me and groans into my ear; he lays a light kiss behind it.

"Go back to sleep."

My eyes fluttered as he peppered kisses on my neck. "I can't."

He hums. "Why?"

My breath hitches; he nibbles my sweet spot. "How do you expect me to sleep if you're sucking on my neck like a baby needing breast milk?"

He squeezes a generous amount of my breast and chuckles. "I can't help it. Your smell is too sweet, and you taste like honey."

I turn my whole body towards him, snuggling into his embrace. "Who knew a man could be so clingy," I mumble into his chest uncaringly. His shallow breathing soothed me, and my heart's rhythm followed. Royce sighed against my hairline, clenching my body tighter to his. I felt fuzzy and at home. "Do I make you soft, Royce?"

His breathing stuttered, and his heart rate picked up. "You make me feel a lot of things, Lily. But If I had to pick the most recurring emotion....it would be comfort."

I smile, pressing an affectionate kiss over his pec. "You bring me comfort, despite your...criminal demeanor." Never in my lifetime would I have imagined I'd be snuggled up with a Mafia Don in Italy, of all places. In all honesty, I don't know If my younger self would've been enthusiastic or impressed with my choices.

"My criminal demeanor keeps us alive-What are you doing?" Royce paused his sentence at the feeling of my hand trailing to cup him.

I rest my head on his chest, and before I can continue, Royce gently takes hold of my hand, placing it between us. I look up in surprise, tweaking my brow-his eyes; softer than I've ever seen them. So much so that I wanted to wrap them around me as if they were the warmest thing ever to caress me. The city lights outside dimly lit the room, marrying his skin like yellow silk. Royce never looked so calm and content. That's something we have in common as of late.

When I officially moved out of my mom's house, I sought a therapist, and it went well for the first couple of months until Xavier started getting violent. My therapist had been married, and Xavier thought it was inappropriate and forced me to stop seeing him. When I spoke out against it, he beat me and said he would do something terrible if he caught me trying to seek out another session. And I didn't want to know, so I kept quiet. With Royce, I'm loud, righteous, and slowly self-accepting. Maybe that's why I like Royce more than I think I do; he's the opposite of Xavier. He's what I desired in Xavier but never received; now that I have it, I'm unsure how to go about this. "Is something wrong?" I ask, the hesitation evident in my voice.

"Nothing is ever wrong when you're around." Royce purses his lips and raises his hand to caress my cheek like I'm porcelain.

I instantly blush and press my face closer to his chest to avoid his tired eyes. "Don't say things like that."

"If it makes you get the look you currently carry on your face, I will continue to do so," Royce rejected. "You need rest, Lily. Don't think I won't take care of you tomorrow."

Heat surged across my skin, and I grumbled in frustration at his aching words. It's even more frustrating because he knows what he's doing, the nerve of this man. "Fine," I say, rolling over and away from the lustful creature behind me. A dip of the bed and creak signaled his leave, and I heard the muffled sound of water running and assumed he was taking a shower. Looking over at the bedside table, I noticed the clock read 4 AM. The thought of his tanned, tattooed skin slick with water and his large hands racking through his wet hair impregnated my mind, and a throbbing pulse struck my abdomen. I need to stop this; I'm getting too close for my liking and what I hate most about it is that I crave it-his attention, touch, smell, and how he caresses my skin and kisses me, but most of all, how he makes me feel. Everything about him was jarring.