Chapter 13

Becka

Our time in Italy was drawing to a close and I still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell Oliver about the email I’d gotten from Ethan about meeting to discuss Neuotova and Oliver’s potential contributions to and support of animal testing.

As we sat on our deck overlooking the beautiful landscape of Tuscany, we sipped wine and ate a loaf of bread we had picked up at the market along with several cheeses that I would have never eaten back at home; in Tuscany, however, they seemed perfectly right on my palate.

“What would you like to do today?” Oliver asked as he nibbled on a cracker. His fingers played on my bare knee, my robe tied at my waist but leaving my legs exposed to the middle of my thighs and my breasts exposed just enough to be tantalizing to Oliver without being inappropriate to anyone who happened to walk by and glance up.

I thought for a moment. What did I want to do? We still had another full day and night. We had eaten, shopped, drank wine, eaten more, shopped more, had more wine. We’d hiked, driven around, and picked fruit that we’d eaten at dinner.

We’d had sex, a lot. In short, we’d had a very complete vacation. Oliver had worked more than he’d wanted to, but I honestly barely noticed his absence. He kept me busy with being his assistant during the times when he was visiting the olive farmers. When he came home at night, I was his girlfriend and he treated me like a queen.

“We could go to the market,” I suggested. “Pick out something yummy to make for dinner.” I tried to think back to just a few months ago, when my entire world revolved around research and spending time in the lab to continue the experiments with Protame and getting my dissertation done.

Back then, the thought of even going out for happy hour with friends seemed ludicrous, never mind going out on an actual date. But, when Oliver had walked into Dr. Evans’ lecture hall, he’d restructured my priority list in one glance.

“I think that sounds perfect,” he said. “I already know what I want for dessert.” He bumped my robe open and it slid to the right, revealing the rest of my thigh and the fact that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I blushed, then I smiled at him. His eyes never failed to nearly stop my heart. They bored into me as if he was an animal hunting its prey, as if he could see everything both inside me and out.

It was then that I decided to tell him that I had received an email from Ethan. Why I chose that moment, I had no idea; it was crazy to even bring it up to him at all, but, the truth was, I really wanted his insight on it.

“I checked my school email last night,” I began, sipping my wine slowly. “And I had an email from Ethan Hernandez.” I looked at him, not sure of what reaction I was expecting.

He looked back at me with his exceptionally piercing eyes, which were now glaring with anger. He set his wine down and swallowed his bread very deliberately.

“He emailed you? Privately?” His voice was low.

“Well,” I explained, “my email is listed on the college’s site in the food science department. Along with my first and last name and a picture of me. I’m not really hard to find.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Oliver’s fingers were still on my knee, but now his hand had a pressure to it that wasn’t pleasant, and his hand burned with what I could only assume was fury.

“What did he say to you?”

The contents of his email flew out of my head under the intensity of his gaze.

“I… I don’t remember,” I stammered. I racked my brain trying to remember if he’d wanted something from me or if he’d been offering me something… the entire email appeared as a blank in my mind.

“You don’t remember?” He spit out the word “remember” like poison. “You don’t remember an email from last night? Go get your computer.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just wanted to tell you because, well, I don’t know why. I just thought you should know. But I don’t need to email him back; we can just forget about it.”

He hadn’t moved. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and I knew he was trying extremely hard to stay in control. I tried to remember that he wasn’t mad at me, at least he shouldn’t be; none of this was my fault. Or was it? I knew I didn’t need to tell Oliver about getting an email from Ethan; I could have handled it entirely by myself. Had I wanted to see his reaction? If so, I’d gotten more than what I’d bargained for.

“Go get your computer,” he repeated as if I hadn’t spoken at all. I looked at him and tried to remain calm, even though I felt a flush rising from my chest through my cheeks. I stood up and walked slowly to the dining table where my laptop sat closed. I opened it and clicked on his email, reading through it to refresh my blank mind.

I winced, seeing his specific reference of documents he wanted to show me that, according to him, would seal Oliver’s coffin as far as animal cruelty went. I thought about clicking the delete button as I walked, accidentally of course, but that was laughable; Oliver would have it undeleted before my finger even left the button.

“Here,” I said, handing him my laptop. I sat back down next to him and watched his eyes move across the message. When he finished, his lips were smoothed out into a tight line. He closed my laptop and set it on the table, and then he sat back in his chair with his glass of wine. He spoke, not looking at me, but, rather, looking out over the Tuscan scenery.

“I’ve worked very hard my entire life to build Neuotova, even before I knew the shape it would take. I pride myself in the research, the food, the science, all of it that Neuotova has contributed to making our world better. There are some people, unfortunately, who are motivated by money and power rather than by the greater good.

Ethan is one of those people. Go ahead and meet with him if you choose to. Listen to everything he has to say, but know that every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. He serves only himself; he doesn’t serve the greater good. I do. Neuotova does.”

He spoke as if he was in a trance, or as though he was reciting a speech he had prepared for a play. He finished and he looked at me. I was silent, not knowing what to say. He set his glass of wine on my computer and smiled.

“Well, now that that unpleasantness is over, do you want to get dressed and we can go to the market?”

My stomach was doing flips inside as I watched his transformation from his anger back into normal Oliver, who was, once again, drumming his fingertips on my knee as if we hadn’t just had an argument. Which, come to think of it, I’m not even sure we’d had. I shook my head, trying to clear out my brain.

“I’d love to,” I said. He stood up and drew me to him. As always, I felt my body respond to his proximity, the heat of his chest and core creating soft goosebumps on my skin. My nipples awakened and I arched my back slightly against him, pressing my breasts to his chest. He sighed appreciatively and pulled me in tighter. He kept one hand on my low back and slid his other hand between the folds of my robe and began to massage my breast.

The heat of his hand combined with the pressure of his other hand on my spine stirred my arousal instantly. I felt his hardness just a small slip of fabric away beneath his pajama bottoms, and I smiled, reaching my hand down to rub his shaft as he leaned in to kiss me.

“We need to go right now or I’ll ravage you and then we won’t have anything to eat for dinner,” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear.

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” I said, kissing him again. His mouth fit to mine exactly perfectly; it was quite amazing, really, and it was something I noticed every time we kissed. “You can’t go out like this anyway,” I said, sliding my hand against his erection.

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, my legs wrapped around him and my robe open to expose my complete state of arousal to him. When he laid me on the bed and stood back, he glanced down at his pajama bottoms and the dark, damp spot forming at the top.

“Is that from you or me?” he teased, pulling his pants off.

“It better not be from you,” I said, “or you’ve got some explaining to do.” I pulled him on top of me and sighed in ecstasy at the sensation of his weight on me. He slid his cock into me and I gasped; I was fully ready, and the feeling of him filling me was like a shot of adrenaline.

I wrapped my legs around him once again and crossed my ankles, pulling him to me. We were pressed together as close as two humans can be, and the friction of his pubic bone on my clit drove me wild with pleasure. I buried my face in his neck and gently bit down, my nails digging lightly into his back, enough to cause him sensation but not enough to leave a mark, and he cried out, then began to thrust into me harder and harder.

My orgasm released me from any worry or anxiety I’d had throughout the entire morning like a balloon being released into the air. Sweet freedom, I moaned as I came and kept my body pressed to his. When he climaxed, his fluids filled me with heat and I felt the pleasant, welcome sensation of his energy surging into my body. He groaned as he spent himself, and, when he was finished, he pushed himself off of me quickly and rolled onto his back.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll say it in English, Italian, and in any time zone you want.” He leaned up on his elbow and looked at me, smiling, the events of the earlier morning with Ethan’s email forgotten. “I want to fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

“Well,” I said playfully, “we’ve got today covered. That’s a great start to the day.” I kissed him. “I’m going to jump into the shower and then we can go shopping.”

“I’m buying you a dress,” he said. “You need some beautiful Italian clothes… something as beautiful as you are.”

“Okay, Romeo,” I said, knowing from previous experience that arguing with him about buying me something was absolutely futile. I wondered if I would ever get used to having a boyfriend who spent money on me without me asking, and on things I didn’t need.

Then I wondered if I would even need to get used to it. Oliver wasn’t my husband; he was my boyfriend. And that was an assumption I was making. I wondered if I would introduce him to my friends, to anyone besides Lisa, as my boyfriend. I shook my head. No, we were not in a relationship.

He could break up with me at any time, and for any reason. I thought of Ethan’s email, his desire to meet with me, and Oliver’s reaction. Go ahead and meet with him if you choose to. Listen to everything he has to say, but know that every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. Was that advice? … Or a challenge?