I never imagined waking up next to that face. But there I was, there it was... peaceful, serene, yet determined even at rest.
The bright Roman sun spilled over the tousled hair, highlighting the stubborn lock that always brushed his eyes. He looked like a man who had enjoyed a long evening of play in bed, but in fact, last night had been an experience of a different kind. He had made love to me, yes, but it had been in the way he whispered my name against my lips, stroked my hair as if he were soothing a restless horse, kissed my throat, and held me close to his hard body the entire night.
I watched him, still sleeping. I took in that face that I had adored from afar for so long. An enigma, he was gentle and wild, somber and playful, and his face reflected those contradictions. His grizzly beard framed a mouth that belonged on a sweet child; beautiful lips forming a Cupid's bow, rose, delicate and utterly devastating. The downcast eyes implied a serious air that was transformed as soon as he opened them, grinning. He was not a young man, yet his skin showed no signs of the hard life he had lived. Smooth olive skin gleaming, untamed eyebrows, proud nose, his face told the story of his land of birth.
How had this dream come to be? I held my breath as I adored his face, willing him to stay warm and safe in sleep yet wanting him to wake and utter my name once more. As if reading my thoughts, he let out a soft sigh and turned towards me.
"Mmmmm.... Buon giorno, cara... good morning".
I let out my breath, suddenly aware of how terrified I had been that he had forgotten me, that he would unwrap his strong arms from around me. My eyes filled with grateful tears, and I found the voice to answer him.
"Buon giorno, mio amore", I whispered softly.
His lips curled in a slow smile, and he pulled me closer against his length. Raising his large hand to my cheek, he traced my face in the same way that I had been examining his. He gave a sly grin when he discovered my mouth, parted open in awe. With one curious finger, he traced the outline of my lips, then brought his mouth down to trace the same outline with his tongue.
I shivered at the sensation. Having him so near, having that face so near... it was almost unbearable, yet I did not want to miss one moment of this delicious time. Echoing his move, I reached up to touch his face lightly with my fingertips, relieved and delighted to find that he was real. He remained still as I wandered through the rough terrain of his beard, the smoothness of his high forehead, then the silky softness of his lips.
In an exclamation of tenderness, love and unbound desire, I uttered his name as the prayer that it is...
"Marco..."
He sighed deeply, and I feared that I had gone too far, had revealed too much of what was whirling in my mind. I let my hands fall from his face, but he clasped them in his and placed them over his heart. I felt the strong, steady beat, and waited, searching his face for a clue that would tell me what he was thinking. His eyes were closed, and if not for the insistent beating under my fingers and the pulse leaping in his strong neck, I would have thought him to be asleep.
His heart gave him away before any words did. Under his warm skin, I felt his heart begin to beat more insistently, and mine responded unwittingly. The anticipation of not knowing what he was thinking, of what he would say now, was making me squirm, but he held my hand still over his heart. I was longing to stroke the hard muscles of his chest, twist my fingers in the dark hair that was so abundant... to follow that hair down its path as it became richer and thicker before disappearing beneath the duvet. But I sensed that he was trying to tell me something, something that could be very important to me, to us, so I waited until he was ready.
I did not have to wait long.
"Cara...", he whispered, "last night, I wanted you, more than I have ever wanted a woman. But I did not want to take advantage of you... so I did not make love to you. You will never know how difficult it was for me!".
I shook my head and started to answer him, to say that I knew exactly how difficult it was, but he stopped me with a small gesture.
"No," he said gently, "let me finish. I wanted you then, and I want you now, but I have a feeling, a sense, that many men have also desired you. You have given them your heart, and they have only taken your body. I cannot do this to you. You are special, cara mia, and I want this to be different."
His words set my head spinning. I had no doubt that he wanted me, but to hear that he cared for me... for me... and he had denied himself for me... I was stunned. I slid my fingers from his grasp and reached to pull his head down towards me, bringing his wondrous face close to mine. I couldn't tell him what his words had meant to me, but I could show him. I softly kissed his smooth forehead, his bearded cheek, the tip of his nose, then finally his sweet mouth.
His lips parted under mine, and the heat of his mouth burned me. "I could kiss him forever", I thought to myself, "and I would be satisfied!". The thought made me smile, and he pulled away from my kiss with a quizzical look.
"Don't worry, Marco, I am just happy... very happy... thank you for your words."
His face broke into a huge grin that lit up the room.
"If that made you happy, carina, just wait a moment...", he said before diving under the covers.
I shrieked, giggling, as his rough beard tickled my bare legs and his hands slid down my sides. But then I stopped laughing as I realized what he was about to do.
Marco said nothing else but yanked down the covers and threw them on the floor. I raised my eyebrows and got nothing back except a sinful grin from him. He was lying between my knees, looking quite cozy. His head of dark locks made my pale skin look even whiter.
"Now, there is a sight that I could get used to!", I muttered to myself.
