sandandwater (
sandandwater) wrote2009-08-22 05:22 pm
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Lie awake all night wondering...
And then I'm in your arms I'll try to relax
Don't want to lie awake all night wondering where we're at
Oh this tossing and turning won't clear these blues away
When I am longing just to hear you say
'No Turning Back' - Sarah Blasko
Six months ago she walked out of his life, or tried to at any rate. Pippa couldn’t sever all ties with this man no matter how often she told herself it would be better, easier, safer. No, there were phone calls and letters, emails and now he was here with her in Venice. Here because she had asked him to come.
What was she doing?
Lying in his arms and pretending things were fine, acting as though there weren’t problems and issues to be settled and discussed. She was savoring the feel of his skin, hot and still damp with sweat, against hers. She was listening to him breath deep and even as he slept. Studying the lines and curves of his face, the delicate cheekbones and the wide, generous mouth—she could still taste his kisses when she swallowed involuntarily. Shifting, she stifled a groan as sore muscles protested, strained and aching from vigorous lovemaking. She sighed.
Pippa was not sleeping.
It would be morning soon and he would wake, she would have to find some way to either continue this charade (oh, the cowardice that taunted her) or face their relationship (lack thereof) head-on and the consequences of her actions. Would he want to discuss what happened? Could he find a way to forgive her? Should she forgive him? Did he realize that she still loved him? Too many questions and no easy answers no matter how hard she searched.
Keep trying.
Don't want to lie awake all night wondering where we're at
Oh this tossing and turning won't clear these blues away
When I am longing just to hear you say
'No Turning Back' - Sarah Blasko
Six months ago she walked out of his life, or tried to at any rate. Pippa couldn’t sever all ties with this man no matter how often she told herself it would be better, easier, safer. No, there were phone calls and letters, emails and now he was here with her in Venice. Here because she had asked him to come.
What was she doing?
Lying in his arms and pretending things were fine, acting as though there weren’t problems and issues to be settled and discussed. She was savoring the feel of his skin, hot and still damp with sweat, against hers. She was listening to him breath deep and even as he slept. Studying the lines and curves of his face, the delicate cheekbones and the wide, generous mouth—she could still taste his kisses when she swallowed involuntarily. Shifting, she stifled a groan as sore muscles protested, strained and aching from vigorous lovemaking. She sighed.
Pippa was not sleeping.
It would be morning soon and he would wake, she would have to find some way to either continue this charade (oh, the cowardice that taunted her) or face their relationship (lack thereof) head-on and the consequences of her actions. Would he want to discuss what happened? Could he find a way to forgive her? Should she forgive him? Did he realize that she still loved him? Too many questions and no easy answers no matter how hard she searched.
Keep trying.
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But her fingers weren't enough. Rory bent his neck to bring his lips to hers, first in delicate brushes, then in a firmer nuzzle, then finally gaining entrance to her mouth for a kiss that blended sweetness with hunger. When he finally lifted his head he was smiling, a strangely shy smile for him, but a smile nonetheless. Resting his lips against her forehead, he breathed Is tú mo ghrá against her skin.
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Pippa knew that nothing had changed from this morning, except perhaps a new awareness of each other's hurts, and that they had many things to discuss and a lot of ground to cover. She knew this and yet she smiled too, smiled and hugged him again in relief. For the first time in months she felt like she could breathe, draw in as much air as her lungs demanded without fear of choking on it. It was a start.
"Kiss me again?"
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When Pippa asked for another kiss, his smile turned from tentative and shy to warm and knowing, something far more Rory. "But of course, sweet." His started this kiss with teasing nips and nibbles before sighing happily and claiming her mouth again.
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Keeping his arms around her, Rory turned his attention back to the glass figure glowing in its reds and golds. "I can see what you've been doing all these months, a chroi, but I confess I'm not entirely sure how." Surely this had to differ from the glassblowing and lampworking he'd watched her do previously.
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His nonverbal response to that caused a soft chuckle to escape her lips before giving him a valid answer, "Carefully, for the most part. It's done in sections, pieces." Seams she hid and disguised under patterns in color and by going back over them with painstaking care and a blowtorch. "Sand casting and molds, a bit of improvised lampwork. Alessandro calling me names and thinking less of my skill--casting is cheating if you ask him. He's been simply furious at me these last few months.
"And of course, memory." She tipped her head back to look up at him, studying the lines and angles of his face. "You're beautiful, you know? It might have been the most detailed but working on his face was also easiest. I already knew exactly what he looked like."
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He found himself feeling rather less charitable toward Maestro Evangelisti. As her teacher and mentor, shouldn't he be encouraging her?
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There was a great deal of science involved, however. She mixed her own silica combinations and handled the coloring chemicals in her own unique method, she certainly created the castings and molds herself, nothing here was prefabricated. Pippa also, as always, sells herself short.
"We've always argued with each other, Ro. It's nothing new." Sometimes she even enjoys screaming back at the old man and having him retort with a litany of heated Italian.
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He gave her a gentle squeeze as he looked thoughtfully at the Red King. "I wonder how he'll feel about meeting the original, as it were." He glanced down to check her reaction. "That is, if you want me to meet him while I'm here. If you'd rather I didn't, I can understand that."
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And the old maestro would be gracious to Rory's face, she knew. The consummate host in every way. He'd save his true thoughts for once the Irishman was gone again. It was another of those things that troubled Pippa but seemed to have no easy solution. Far too many half-truths told to protect people and in the process giving Alessandro an unclear picture of just what happened in New York.
"And Marcello..." She smiled at her friends name on her lips. The photographer was far more forgiving than her mentor and would genuinely enjoy Rory, she thought.
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He didn't miss her hesitation on the subject of the maestro, and considered possible reasons for it. There was quite a list of possibilities, actually. Well and well, he'd just have to deal with the man as best he could when the time came.
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Her upset temporarily cooled and her flirtatious side warming up, Pippa forgot her earlier self-promise to abstain in the studio and pressed a nibbling kiss to Rory's chin, then his jaw. "You're here to see me, after all. Aren't you?"
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She was tugging him towards a room filled with tools and sand and shelves lined with jars of chemicals. The frosted glass panes making up most of the interior wall didn't offer much privacy but it was in the rear of the studio, away from the fires and therefore quieter and cooler.
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Once they were in the back room, though, his wandering hands and nuzzling lips said that he clearly had all sorts of ideas on just what to do with her. "Mmmmm ... you feel wonderful." Her throat muffled his words as he slipped his hands under her top, stroking the soft skin of her sides as they slid upward.
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He wasn't the only one who could be playful, she had her moments too, even if they were few and far in between. At least in public.
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After nibbling his way back up her throat, he urged her lips apart for another deep, heated kiss. His tongue caressed hers, savoring the sweet heat of her mouth while his fingers found and unfastened the clasp of her bra. With a soft growl of triumph, Rory slid both bra and top upwards, baring her soft mounds to his gaze, his hands, and to his very eager mouth. He cupped her in his hands, nipping and sucking at the upper swells of her breasts before sucking one taut nipple between his lips.
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Her hands rifled through his hair before moving on to mold his shoulders under her touch, eventually pushing the soft cotton of his shirt down the length of his arms to bare more of his skin. Her touch wandered from shoulder to back and over his neck, tugging long hair between her fingers. He was devouring her and she was frantic to touch as much of him as she could.
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He said nothing, but Pippa's soft plea did not go unanswered. One of Rory's hands smoothed down her stomach to find the fastening of her jeans. After slipping the button free and sliding the zipper down, he slid his fingers inside denim and panties to caress her sweet, already moistening heat.
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Pippa whimpered at his touch, held his head to her breast and focused on the feel of his teeth and tongue against her hardened nipple. Right then, she felt as hot and fluid as the mass of red glass in the other room, as easily molded and shaped by Rory's hands and mouth as re Russo had been forged from her imagination.
We're not avoiding anything at all, Pippa convinced herself as her breath caught and her hand tightened in his hair. We're only making it right. At last.