Contessa (41 page)

“
Livvy,
”
he says seriously, taking my hand in his and setting it in my lap.
“
Trust.
”

“
Okay,
”
I say with a sigh. He continues slowly unbuttoning the shirt, and then slips it off his shoulders, leaving him in his white v-neck t-shirt. When he reaches for the hem of that shirt, I start to protest, but decide to trust him anyway.

I smile when I see his chest and abdominal muscles. I
’
d felt them before, but never actually seen them.

“
Do you like that?
”
he says with a laugh.

“
Well, yeah, but... what
’
s your point?
”

“
What do you mean?
”

“
That
’
s my present?
”

“
No.
”
He turns around and faces the furnace, letting me see his back. In small, neat, meticulous letters near his right shoulder is a quote:

“
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
”

“
What do you think?
”

“
It
’
s very nice. Is that real?
”

“
Touch it,
”
he encourages me. I press my fingers against it, feeling the slightly raised markings of ink. It
’
s real.

“
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep,
”
I read it out loud.
“
Is that for me?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Did it hurt?
”

“
A little, but not like I thought it would.
”

“
You
’
re not dreaming, if that
’
s what you
’
re implying. Is it?
”

“
Yeah,
”
he says.
“
But there
’
s more to it.
”

“
Tell me.
”

“
Did you know that the first documented instance of the name Olivia came from Shakespeare
’
s
The Twelfth Night
?
”

“
No, it didn
’
t.
”

“
Yeah, actually it did,
”
he says as he turns his head around and smiles at me. I continue to rub my fingers on the tattoo, a little mesmerized by it. I never thought I
’
d be dating a guy with a tattoo. I
’
m sure my dad never did, either.

“
Who was she?
”

“
She was of nobel descent, a woman in mourning because her brother had died. And she had all of these suitors, but she didn
’
t want any of them. It was a story of mistaken identities. It was kind of weird, actually, but it led to her marriage to a man named Sebastian.

“
He
’
s confused by her strange proposal, and can
’
t really believe she wants him.
So,
he says that to her.
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.
”

“
What?
”
I say softly.
“
You can
’
t believe I want to be with you?
”

“
Sometimes, no,
”
he answers.
“
I mean, you could have anyone, Livvy.
”

“
I highly doubt that. You were the only guy to ask me out.
”

“
Probably because everyone else is intimidated by you, or your family.
”

“
And you
’
re not?
”

“
I got to know a different person than most of the world. You were never guarded with me. You were always one-hundred-percent in your element. You always said what you felt. You never cared if people didn
’
t like what you did. You have such strong convictions, and I love that about you. I feel like I know you, I don
’
t know... deeper,
better
than other people do. Does that make sense?
”

I simply nod my head when he turns around once more to wait for my answer.

“
I can
’
t be like this around other people, though,
”
I admit to him.
“
You make me feel more comfortable–more like myself.
”

“
Well, then I
’
m happy it
’
s me that can bring that out of you.
”

“
Me, too.
”
I lean in slowly and kiss the word
dream
on his back. I move my lips to press against the word
sleep
.

“
I envisioned you doing that at some point, Livvy, but I never thought it would feel like that.
”

I sit up on my knees as I move the blanket aside, kissing the tattoo a few more times, and then kissing the side of his neck. He shifts to his knees and turns around, kissing me slowly, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

His fingers press into my back firmly while mine explore his smooth skin. My left hand keeps wandering to the quote on his back. My right one can
’
t bring him close enough to me.

His firm grasp supporting me, he begins to lay me back against the pillows on the floor. His legs on the left side of my body, he hovers over me, continuing our kiss. His biceps are strong, and keep his body at a distance from mine. I make sure my skirt is straightened out, then lightly scratch his sides with my fingernails.

He shivers away, sitting back up.

“
Did that tickle?
”

“
Yeah, a little.
”

“
I
’
m sorry.
”

“
It
’
s fine,
”
he whispers, his gaze locked on mine. He puts his left hand on my right hipbone tentatively, grasping the fabric of my skirt in his fingers and scrunching it in his fist. His eyes break away, focusing on the actions of his hand. He stares at it, contemplative, and sighs. He kneels back on his ankles, dragging his fingers down my leg until they
’
re touching the bare skin of my knee. I study his expression, trying to anticipate his next move.

“
Olivia,
”
he whispers as he unzips my right boot and takes it off.

“
Yes?
”

“
Does anyone actually call you that?
”

“
Not really.
”

“
Can I?
”

I shrug my shoulders.
“
I don
’
t know. It seems so
adult
, or something.
”

“
Exactly. You
’
re not a kid anymore. You
’
re the woman I want to be with. And I like the way it sounds. I love you, Olivia.
”
We both smile at one another as he takes off my other boot.
“
Doesn
’
t that have a nice ring to it?
”

I nod, propping myself up on my elbows. He leans back over, dragging his hand down to the back of my knee and pulling it toward him. After he kicks off his shoes, he positions his left leg between mine and settles slowly on my body as I lie back down. His hand travels up my leg slowly, stopping midway up my thigh under my skirt.

“
Is this okay?
”

“
I
’
m not ready to have sex,
”
I tell him quickly, aware that I may be spoiling the mood.

“
I
’
m not going to try to have sex with you, Olivia. Not tonight.
”

I bite my lip, thinking about how much I care about him and how much I want to experience things with him.
“
I love you, Jon. And yes, this is okay.
”

A corner of his lip lifts slightly, and he puts his right arm beneath my neck, enveloping me in his embrace. He unbuttons my sweater and pulls it back, revealing the shirt underneath. He untucks it from my skirt, and I
’
m afraid he
’
ll have to unfasten this one, too, to give my heart the room it needs to pound so forcefully in anticipation.

He doesn
’
t, though. As our kiss continues, his left hand lightly touches the right side of my body, starting at my hip and moving up slowly, over the shirt. He stops just above my ribcage and his thumb barely grazes the side of my breast. My breath catches in my throat, my body alive with feelings I
’
ve never felt before.

“
It
’
s okay,
”
he says as he moves his lips to my ear.

“
Wow,
”
I sigh, acutely aware of every wonderful sensation. I can hear him laugh quietly before he lifts his head up to look me in the eyes. He drags his hand back down to the hemline of my shirt and lifts it slightly, exposing my midriff. His finger circles my navel as his attention shifts to my torso. He props himself up again, carefully laying my head back down on the pillow. His hair is messy, hanging in his eyes, and I run my fingers through it, holding the longer strands back so I can see his expression. He looks
reverent
.

He glances back at me and kisses me once more, then moves my hair off of my neck and presses his lips there. He repeats the motion, moving closer toward my collarbone and then to the necklace that was tucked beneath the shirt. He unbuttons the top button only to kiss the medallion three times. Then he refastens my shirt. He moves toward my stomach, and I can feel the wet warmth of his tongue against my belly as he kisses my skin fully. He does this on both sides of my navel.

Needy, I pull his head back up to mine and he welcomes my thirsting lips on his. I scrape his back with my fingernails, which elicits a sharp intake of air that hisses through Jon
’
s teeth.

“
That feels incredible,
”
he encourages me. I continue, hoping he feels as good as I do. His elbows on either side of me, I pull at his body to align with mine. I can feel him fighting me, but eventually he moves his other leg between mine. He settles his body down on mine slowly.

Too
slowly. I hold him close to me, wanting more. The part of me that thinks I
’
m not ready seems to be losing this internal struggle, and I choose to keep my rational self out of this decision. I move against him tentatively and am surprised by the feeling. I like how he feels against me. I do it again.

“
Oh, god, Olivia,
”
Jon breathes.

“
I know,
”
I respond quickly.
“
Don
’
t stop.
”

He pulls back, his expression curious.
“
What are you saying?
”

“
I don
’
t want to have sex. I don
’
t think I do, yet,
”
I tell him.
“
But this feels... um, wow.
”

“
You sure?
”

“
I think so,
”
I tell him with a laugh.
“
I
’
m sure.
”

He moves against me tentatively, watching my expression.
“
Tell me how it feels.
”