Page 99 of Vicious Intentions
Chapter 21
Annamaria
Eighteen years old.
I don’t have time to be embarrassed by what I just admitted because Raffaele decides to call before I can text him back. I’m hesitant to answer, though. Not only because of the confession I just made, but also because it didn’t go so well the last time we talked on the phone. It didn’t feel like I was talking to the man I’d been texting for the better part of a year.
If I answer this call now, I’m not sure that Raffaele won’t revert to his aloof self, instead of being the man who sends me quotes by Maya Angelou just because he knows they speak to me.
With every vibration of the phone in my hand, my anxiety multiplies.
“Please let it be you,caro mio. Please,” I whisper to myself before shutting my eyes and answering the call.
However, my eyelids open on their own when neither of us seems to be in a rush to say anything. A smile curves on my lipswith each silent second that passes. Maybe Raffaele was just as nervous making this call as I was in answering it.
I decide to bite the bullet and be the first to break the silence. “Hi,” I finally say, chewing on my lower lip.
“Hi back,” he retorts, his voice deeper than I remember it.
“Are you sick? Your voice sounds… different.”
He clears his throat as if forcing a cough and then replies, “I… um… have been battling a cold for a while.” Another cough. “Must be a bug going around.”
That tracks, since his voice is rougher, more gravelly. It’s actually kind of sexy.
“Some chamomile tea with a drop of honey should help,” I reply, then fall back onto the bed.
I let my head hit the pillow, cringing at how ridiculous I sound. I basically just admitted I wanted him to kiss me, and now I’m giving him advice on cold remedies. God, I’m terrible at this.
“Sweetheart, the last thing I want to talk about is my cold,” he says, his raspy voice doing something to my insides. “We have to discuss your last text.”
“Do we really?” I press my palm to my cheek, suddenly feeling flushed.
“No. Not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he replies, his tone gentle, even if it can’t quite hide the disappointment beneath it.
“I… want to talk about it,” I whisper, forcing the words out.
“Yeah?”
“Hmm.”
“Then I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” I retort, feeling lightheaded just from the sound of his breathing in my ear.
“I want you to tell me to kiss you.” I swallow the small moan that threatens to slip out at the sound of his voice.
“What would be the point? You’re there. I’m here.”
“Do you want me to kiss you, Anna?” he insists, my name on his lips sounding like sin incarnate.
“Yes,” I breathe out, squirming in my bed.
“Then tell me to kiss you.”
I swallow dryly and push the words out of my mouth. “Kiss me.”
He lets out a soft, strained groan that has my toes curling and my breath catching in my throat.
