Fear Of Intimacy

After dinner, I went into my room. Phoenix was already sleeping on the couch. I took a cool shower and sat on a stool in front of the vanity table to apply my night cream. I was already in my nightgown. I flipped my hair aside as I applied the cream to my neck and way down my shoulders. I lifted my leg, applying the cream to my thigh and down my flawless leg to my foot. When I was done, I stood up. Turning to the bed, I drew in the air sharply. Emiliano was at the door. His arms were firmly crossing his chest while leaning against the wall and gazing at me. Why didn’t I notice him earlier? Did he appear like a ghost or what? Besides, why was he staring lustfully at me? He began walking toward me. I took a step back. I wanted to ask why he was in my room at this specific nighttime, but the words died in my mouth the moment he crossed the distance between us and stood right in front of me. He leaned forward and tilted his head to the crook of my neck. I let out a gasp. I clutched the edge of my nightie. He inhaled my scent and removed his head.

“You smell different today. What did you apply?” he asked.

What was his problem with that? Though he was right. I blended my night cream with some drops of essential oils. I wanted to have a mixed-flavor scent for the night.

“Is it too much?” I asked, walking past him to the other side of the bed.

“No, it’s not. But suffocating,” he said, moving toward me again.

If it was suffocating, I must have added an excess of the oils.

“It’s late, you should go to bed,” I told him while fixing the bed pillows.

“How can I sleep when your new scent has filled the air?” he moved closer to me.

“How then will you get off my scent if you keep coming closer?” I put down the pillow.

He leaned toward me. “Are you saying I should go?” he queried with an indifferent smile on his face, clustered with lust and desire.

“What do you want to do?” I asked, suddenly queasy and suffocating. I needed fresh air from his gaze.

“I want to do everything to you, Ginevra,” he said, standing just a breath away.

My breath hitched as I inhaled sharply. What does he want to do to me? I tried to move back, but he held my two arms, making me stand still. I couldn’t withdraw my gaze from his compelling eyes. Was he trying to manipulate me? I was still in the recovery stage. I wouldn’t want more hurt.

“You are slowly driving me crazy, Ginevra. I can’t stop myself even if I wish to,” he said. His fingers trailed down my cheeks to my lips. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want this, but I was losing it. He lifted my chin, I could feel his hurt breath against my face as he leaned closer, capturing my lips in his. His arms wrapped around my waist. I ran my fingers in his hair. I pulled him closer to me as our lips moved in sync. A kiss I wish lasted a lifetime stopped before it started. Why? Suddenly appalled by me? I curiously opened my eyes and I saw him smiling at me. I wanted to ask him why. Why would he stop after pulling me into the lustful world? I was already craving for him. Am I honestly being desperate or naïve?

“Are you sure you’re not the innocent type?” he asked.

I frowned at him. Why does he always come up with this innocent stuff? I pushed him back slightly and climbed onto the bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, snuggling myself under the duvet.

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” he said, placing his hands on the bed, so he will lean closer to me.

“Don’t look at me,” I groaned in frustration and faced the opposite side. I knew he was smiling at me. He always does that and it hurts. I get irritated sometimes.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“Huh?” my eyes went wide open. I love surprises. His surprises have always been so heart-warming. From the cutie cat to a modern phone, to expensive pieces of jewelry, and clothing. I love everything about his surprises. I eagerly turned over on the bed, facing him.

“I thought you wouldn’t want it, too,” he said. What was the surprise? “Here, you left your phone on the dining table, so I thought it would be nice bringing it to you.”

I gritted my teeth, clenched my fist, and then released my fingers. I forced a smile through my gritted teeth and slowly turned to the other side. I closed my eyes.

He chuckled. “Good night,” he wished and left.

The moment he walked out, I opened my eyes and turned on my back. Facing the ceiling, I hit my legs on the bed in frustration.

“He is so annoying!” I groaned between gnashed teeth. Why was he playing with my feelings? Did I just say feelings? Oh, no! What have feelings gotten to do with anything? I hated the fact that I was stupidly desiring him. Was it even normal? Does a woman have to show she desires a man? I loathe that side of me.

The following morning, I was awake, freshened up, and sat back on the bed, fondling Phoenix’s fur. I was sulky over last night. It wasn’t funny. As usual, Emiliano came along holding a tray of food.

“Good morning, Ginevra,” he greeted, walking closer, and putting the food on the nearest table. I snubbed him. He sat on the bed, I adjusted my legs. “How was your night?” he asked. I turned my face away. “What did I do this time? Talk to me.”

“Why did you kiss me last night?” I quickly asked. A surprise settled on his face. “Don’t look at me like that, just answer me.”

“Well, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“Why then did you stop almost immediately?” my voice was along the way raising.

“Because I discovered you got scared.”

“Scared? What do you mean?”

“The moment our lips touched, I noticed you tightened your grip on me. I could feel your heart pounding, your legs began wobbling like you wanted to fall, and you began sweating. All this, not because you desired to be kissed, but because you were afraid to hold on longer or possibly because you didn’t want us to end up making love. It happened the other time, too,” he explained.

Those things can’t be true, I didn’t notice anything except when I felt hot which I possibly thought was because I wanted him to make love to me. I felt lightheaded and ready to swoon into anything more passionate and appealing, not fear. Now he was saying otherwise.

“How did you know all this when your eyes were closed and I didn’t take notice?” I queried, more like scolding him for saying such.

“Because I was the one kissing you, and I know when people are comfortable during a kiss and when they are not.”

“Really?” I uttered, putting Phoenix down and drawing close to him. He nodded. “Are you sure you are not the one afraid to take me to bed?” I questioned almost in a whisper as I drew closer to him.

“I’m not an amateur like you,” he chuckled.

“Who says I am?” I spoke into his mouth as I began sucking his lips.

Maybe he was surprised, but I didn’t care to know, all I wanted was to kiss him to the fullest. His lips were juicy. I love the taste of them as our lips blended in synchrony. I pushed him down and straddled him. Let’s see who gets scared. Light moans escaped my lips as his hands gradually traveled down to my waist. I halted for a second to catch my breath. Then he pressed me down on the bed, so he would straddle me. His tongue trailed down my chin to my throat, jawline, and shoulders. My body tingled. I felt goosebumps forming on my skin. I tightened my grip on the bedclothes as I moan lightly. I was sweating. My breathing was hitched, and I was suffocating. I clung to my toes, not because of pleasure, but because I was becoming uncomfortable. His hands moved over every open part of my body.

“Are you fine?” he asked along the way. I nodded.

I didn’t want him to stop, but then I was choking. His touch was choking me. It turned worse when he wanted to unbutton my shirt. I shuddered. I inhaled sharply then held his hands, I gave him a push off my body and I jerked up, breathing panicky. I needed to catch my breath. He sat up, moving his hand up and down my back to calm me down.

“You all right?” he asked. I nodded. “I told you, you are scared.”

I turned an abrupt stern look at him. He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he was right. I am scared to let him make love to me. Probably, it would be wrong to try to seduce a man. Did I seduce him? Possibly, he seduced me. His eyes only can do worst. These dark, cunning, yet bright eyes were my possible attraction and weakness to him.

“Eat your breakfast, I will be downstairs,” he said and left.

I exhaled heavily like I was just freed from a smoky atmosphere. I flopped on the bed.