◆ A Night With The Heir ◆

× WARNING! × GRAPHIC CONTENT BELOW INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ×

◇ KEL ◇

...

It started with a quick kiss—a little chaste buss I left on his lips.

Our first ever real kiss.

It felt light. Easy. Almost natural.  I wanted to comfort him in some way before I had to leave.  So I kissed him again.

Then he just grabbed my arms and pulled me to him. He showed me how to really kiss someone.

But our first one didn't end there.  His breath smelled of alcohol but I just didn't give a crap.   I wanted to prolong the feeling of his mouth on mine.  Just for tonight...I wanted to know how he really kissed a woman.

He brushed his soft lips onto my neck, then on my shoulder, his firm arms embracing me.  It felt right.  Last time I checked, we're just two friends hanging out, but it definitely felt far from a friendly hug.  Before I could make sense of what was about to happen, he kissed my lips again.

This time it wasn't stiff or tentative.  It turned breathtakingly torrid in seconds.  Some hesitation occupied my mind but why did this feel so good? I just didn't know what to do but relish in the comforting embrace of his strong arms keeping my body pressed onto his warmth. I gasped and held in a giggle of surprise when he lifted me off the floor.  I opened my eyes again when he brought me to the bedroom.

The lights were off.  But I didn't care.  He knew his way around the room and knew how to get rid of my misgivings, soothing me with his hot kisses and arousing touches.

I put my arms around his neck and back while his hand palmed the back of my thigh, keeping it pressed onto his hip.  I pulled away when his tongue touched mine.  Although it was almost pitch-dark, I stared into his eyes as he stroked the side of my face.

The arousal I felt was fueled by the eagerness in his eyes and kisses.  His mouth and caresses on my body weren't subtle at all. It easily took my breath away.

It was pushing me to abandon all rational thought.  He wasn't looking for anything serious;  I shouldn't sleep with him.  But the urge to be this close to him just reached its breaking point.

It wasn't like he was trying to stop me, either.  Enzo kissed me like it was all he wanted to do all night.  If he was only teasing me and trying to see if I would let him have his way, I couldn't tell.  He shut the door behind him, then carried me to the bed.

I was almost gasping when he resumed his long, fervent kisses while the heat of his body comforted me somewhat.  It confused me and left me unbearably aroused at the same time.  I'd felt this way with Miles before, but my heart and mind weren't this torn between doing the right thing and indulging the desire I'd been keeping to myself.

My common sense reasoned that it was Enzo's fault. He chose to spend time with me even when he was still romantically involved with Libby.  But I couldn't care less about the blame game now that he was already taking my clothes off, and winning me over with his sweet and comforting kisses that stoked the restless desire inside me.

If this was his attempt to seduce me into submission—fine.  I wouldn't stop him.  I didn't want to push him away.  I wanted to be with him...even just for tonight.

He seemed lonelier than usual, and every bit of me just wanted to comfort him any way I could.  Enzo probably thought being intimate with someone would be the simplest, quickest solution for alleviating his frustrations.  His loneliness, too.

Seeing him this sad and frustrated just struck a familiar chord.  Now all I could think of was making him feel better, making him feel cared for and loved.  There were other ways—safer ways—but having sex with him just seemed the easiest route.

He obviously craved intimacy right now.  "Cazzo." Enzo moaned when I placed my hand on his crotch, my skin feeling the roughness of his jeans.  He licked my lips and tasted my mouth again with his skilled, warm tongue.

Our breathing turned loud, shallow, filled with tension.  It only worsened the uncomfortable sensation in my gut and in between my thighs.

He was still fully clothed, but I was already topless and only wearing my underwear.  It was still dark in the room, but not too dark for me to not notice the unmistakable longing in his gaze and the keenness in his eyes.

Almost like...he had been waiting a long time for this to happen.  And now we reached this point.  No going back now.

We crossed the line.

...

Wait.

It was a dream.  Just a dream.

It wasn't real.  Of course.  None of it was real.

My tired eyes slowly opened as the realization kicked in, drawing me out of my fuzzy, sleep-addled consciousness.  I almost cussed at the confusion and stupor I felt.

What time was it?  The blinds were drawn.  I couldn't tell if it was almost dawn or just a little after midnight.

Every bit of me felt numb except my thumping heart in my chest.  I smothered a sigh with my palm as I slowly regained awareness of my surroundings.  Dark room.  Soft bed.  Cold.  Aircon left on.  Muscle aches.  Exhaustion.

Something warm fanned my nape.  Before I could shift on the bed,  something heavy and warm rested on my arm.

I turned my head and snickered. He was spooning me under the covers. It was Enzo's mouth on my nape, almost kissing the back of my neck while his heavy arm stayed draped over mine.  I could still smell the wine in his breath.

Was it early morning already?  Darn it.  I just prayed Miles wouldn't find out that I fell asleep in Enzo's hotel room.

Enzo got super drunk last night after we had dinner alone, and it was only then that I realized that he was definitely a binge drinker.  He'd also asked me to stay the night.  "I just...I don't wanna be alone right now. Please?" was his heartfelt request when I'd told him I had to go back to my place.

Out of worry, I had forced him to drink water last night before he got knocked out by the amount of wine he sopped up in just two hours.  I even made sure he peed before he went to sleep.

The last thing I remembered before falling asleep:  I was getting groggy while reading up on my new General Surgery ebook.  I'd been sitting on this bed that time, with him lying beside me as he watched a replay of a triathlon coverage.

Although our conversation became rather awkward after I tried to say no when Enzo asked me to stay,  I couldn't just leave him alone in such a vulnerable emotional state last night.  I also made him drink water twice,  and then watched him closely to make sure his blood alcohol concentration would not cause serious damage to his organs.

So far,  he only looked flushed.  No alarming mental confusion.  He also didn't black out the previous night despite the amount of alcohol in his system.  I recalled he just fell asleep while watching TV.

Now he appeared to be resting normally, getting the sleep he needed, but I still had to keep an eye on him until he woke up.  Darn it.  I should have stopped him from drinking more than two glasses of wine last night.

If he died from alcohol poisoning, that would be on me, frankly.  It was what convinced me to stay in his hotel room all night.  In case he experienced a seizure, intense vomiting, diarrhea, or other serious symptoms, I'd planned to take him straight to the ER with his bodyguard.

Thankfully none of that happened.  Yet.  I rubbed my eyes and sighed.  I glanced at his left arm now resting on my waist.  For a moment, I watched him despite the lack of lighting in the room.

Enzo was snoring softly.  Definitely the fatigue.  He looked so serene in his quiet slumber.  Completely free of stress and agitation.  Watching him sleep was calming.  Beautiful.  Hopefully he would wake up in a couple hours with nothing but a bad hangover.

Was it wrong that I slept in the same bed with him?  Yeah.  I knew the consequences.

Miles had warned me to stay away from Enzo, but I didn't listen.  Like the last time.  "You never learn," Miles would say.

The thought made my stomach roil with guilt, but I didn't want to leave Enzo by himself.  Not yet.  How I felt about him in that vivid dream was eerily similar to how I felt right now—except the sexual parts.

Was it another vision?  If that happened to us in real life, that would be so...messed up.

Or it could just be another weirdly detailed dream forged by my hyperactive subconscious after a long, stressful month.  Perhaps the latter.

I turned my back to him again and snuggled to the soft pillow.  One more hour.  I needed some more sleep.  Hopefully, there would be no more weird dreams interrupting my much-needed rest.

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