Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He smiled. “I want to experience your life the same way you’ve been experiencing mine.”
My life was sweaty subways, screeching sirens, and skyscrapers. His was swaying sunflowers, slow sunsets, and serenity. He was bound to be disappointed. But when the overhead sign displayed an arrow pointing to the right for the AirTrain, he put a hand on my back and steered me that way. “Come on.”
Of course, New York delivered its usual chaos. God forbid we have an uneventful ride home. The E train was packed beyond reason, the air wasn’t working, and a man who was clearly strung out started pushing through the crowded car, shouting as he begged for money.
“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me!” He slammed his hand against a window, wild eyes darting around and landing on a teenager. “You! You think you’re better than me!”
Matteo had an arm wrapped protectively around me. He let go, and I knew he was two seconds away from intervening. But then the teenager held something out, and the guy flashed a smile that showed off a mouth of decaying teeth. “You’re not so bad after all!” He brought the half joint to his mouth and lit it, right there in the cramped car, blowing the smoke all over passengers trying to ignore him.
I was relieved when the doors slid open at the next stop and the guy got off. But then a guy carrying three oversized duffel bags bulldozed his way on, knocking one into me and nearly slamming me into the door. Matteo caught me instantly and stared down the man.
“Watch it.”
The guy grumbled what I thought might’ve been an apology and shoved past. I held my breath for the remaining eight stops.
Matteo shook his head as we got off on the platform. “You put up with this every day?”
“Oh, it’s not like this every day. Sometimes it gets scary.”
Matteo’s eyes widened.
I chuckled. “I’m joking. But seriously, most of the time if you just ignore everyone, they leave you alone.”
“Most of the time,” he grumbled. “Great.”
The short walk from the subway station to my apartment was appreciatively dull. While I’d been wary about how Matteo would react to taking trains, I was actually excited for him to see where I lived. The uniform-clad doorman opened the door as we approached.
“Miss B.” He smiled. “Nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Hey, Ray. How are you?”
“How was Italy? Did you bring me home a souvenir?”
I smiled and looked over at the man following close behind. “Not this time. But this is Matteo. He’s staying with me while we’re here, so you might see him coming and going.”
Ray grinned. “Nice. Brought yourself home a souvenir instead.”
I laughed. Inside the elevator I pushed the button to my floor.
“Fifty-six?” Matteo said. “Are the lower floors more expensive?”
“Just the opposite. The higher you go, the pricier—because of the view, and it’s quieter.”
My one-bedroom apartment was modest in size, but the view was spectacular—at least I thought so. It wasn’t rolling hills or sunlit vineyards like Tuscany, but it had a wow factor of its own. Unlocking the door, I left the lights off as we entered, letting New York be the only illumination.
Matteo dropped the bags to the floor, and I took his hand, bringing him to the glass. Skyscrapers shimmered with thousands of tiny lights, and avenues below glowed like rivers with red taillights flowing one way and headlights coming the other. Neon signs pulsed, and amber streetlights washed the sidewalks in gold. To the left, the 59th Street bridge glittered, and to the right, the East River reflected the city’s glow in ripples of silver.
“It looks alive,” he said. “Like it’s breathing.”
I loved watching him take it all in. “It’s not Tuscany. But it’s mine.”
He turned, eyes catching mine in the glow. “I can feel this city in you.”
I smiled. “What do you want to do first? You’re probably hungry. Would you rather go out to eat? Order in? Take a shower?”
Matteo leaned close, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “You,” he whispered. “I want to do you.”
And just like that, every worry I’d had about bringing him here disappeared. The doubts, the second-guessing—gone. All that existed was him.
He stepped behind me, pulling my hair to one side before pressing his mouth to the curve of my neck. The scrape of his stubble and the gravel in his voice shot heat through me when he murmured, “Can people see in?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “The glass is mirrored on the other side.”
“Eccellente.” He trailed his knuckles down my side, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “Hands on da glass,” he ordered softly.
I shivered but braced my palms flat against the cool pane. Outside, New York pulsed, a million things happening at once, but inside, behind these windows, the world narrowed to only the two of us.