Lorenzo: Chapter 17

My mind races with unanswered questions. What the hell just happened in the library? I take a seat on the wooden bench in the kitchen, and the slight ache between my thighs tells me that I didn’t imagine any of it. All those weeks of pent-up sexual tension, and now it’s over. I guess it’s not that unusual—unfortunately—for a guy to not care about a woman’s pleasure as long as he finds his own, but Lorenzo didn’t strike me as that type of guy at all. But the worst part is that he walked away without even checking if I was okay. It seems so at odds with the man I’ve been getting to know.

I shake my head. We shouldn’t have gone there. I mean, it was great sex—hot sex—right up to the point where he left me hanging. I was literally on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, and he just stopped. Everything about Lorenzo Moretti screams sex wizard, but that’s the problem when you fantasize about someone for so long—the reality never measures up.

The sound of the door opening interrupts my inner chatter, and a flush creeps across my cheeks as Lorenzo walks into the room. Well, holy shit, this is awkward.

“Mia,” he says gruffly, his brow furrowed.

“Lorenzo.” I give him a forced smile, wondering how I can extricate myself from this room and avoid having this conversation.

He clears his throat. “About earlier.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “We don’t have to—”

“We need to talk about what happened,” he insists and sits on the bench opposite me.

I swallow the ball of anxiety lodged in my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his expression so full of guilt, sadness, and pain that I want to wrap my arms around him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I assure him. “We’re both adults.”

“We didn’t use”—he clears his throat again—“protection.”

“Well, we were kind of in the moment,” I remind him.

“Do we need to do anything about that?” His eyes scan my face, full of concern now too.

“No, I have an IUD. Also, just FYI, Brad was such a sleazebag that I had regular STI checks. The results of my last one came through just after I left Boston. Clean as a whistle.”

He nods and lets out a long breath. “I’m clean too. There’s been no one since Anya.”

Holy bananas! I’m the first woman he’s been with since his dead wife? I had no idea. No wonder he rushed off the way he did. Unsure what to say, I nod and look around the room for a means of escape. This is torture; I’m such an idiot. “So, we’re all good then,” I say, infusing my tone with all the chirpiness and indifference I can muster while I sit here with his cum dripping out of me.

“It can’t happen again, Mia,” he says, his voice deep and solemn. “I’m sorry.”

Wow! The arrogance of men with huge dicks. I’m technically still married and not exactly looking for a deep committed relationship here either, buddy.

He frowns. “What?”

I shrug. Shut up, Mia. Don’t say it!

“Mia?” he presses.

“It’s bold of you to assume I want it to happen again, is all,” I blurt. Idiot!

His frown deepens into a scowl. “I just …” His Adam’s apple bobs.

“You assumed that I’d be addicted to your giant penis after one quick liaison in the library?” I arch my eyebrow. Oh, for the love of god, shut up, Mia!

He flinches. “No. I just meant …”

“It’s not like we had great chemistry, is it?” Yeah right. The chemistry between us is scorching hot, which was why the end result was so disappointing. I hoped my lie would defuse the situation, but that huge vein starts to throb in his temple and tells me I only made it worse. “I mean, I guess not all sex has to end with both parties coming. That doesn’t necessarily mean it was bad,” I babble. From the low growl that rumbles in his chest, I’m pretty sure I just poured a can of gasoline all over this little pickle we’ve found ourselves in.

He plants his giant hands on the table, jaw clenched tightly shut and rage visibly simmering beneath the surface of his skin. “So we’re in agreement then?” he barks. “Never again.”

“Never.” I offer him my most genuine smile, trying to lighten the mood and convey that we can still be friends despite what happened earlier, but he glowers at me.

Goddammit, Mia! I need to get out of this room before I inadvertently push another button and make him implode.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He storms out of the room, and I rest my forehead on the table, letting the cool wood soothe my flushed skin. How the hell did my day end this badly? With a deep breath, I push myself up and roll my shoulders back. Tomorrow is a new day, and it will be a better one than this.

Lorenzo and I can be friends again. Lorenzo and his rough hands and sinful tongue. The way it danced over the skin of my neck before he claimed my mouth with a smoking hot kiss. Warmth pools in my core at the memory. So much promise, only for him to leave me wet and needy.

Gah! Stop it, Mia. It was mediocre sex at best. He fucked you and left you hanging.

But what if—

“Mia?” Kat says, popping her head into the kitchen. “That movie we were talking about is on soon. You wanna watch it with me?”

Watching a movie with Kat sounds like the perfect distraction. As much as I’d love to talk to her about what happened with Lorenzo, sleeping with her brother-in-law—who’s clearly still grieving for his wife—isn’t the wisest move I’ve ever made. And it’s not like it’s going to happen again. I’ll file it with all my other stupid mistakes I never speak of and leave it there.