In those seconds, the Cosa Nostra, the Phoenix, our age difference, and everything that led us here combust, dissolve, and vanish far away—because all I can focus on is the firm grip of his hands holding me as if I weigh nothing.
Lorenzo doesn’t seduce me.
He consumes me.
I feel him press against me, lifting me slightly, placing his right thigh between mine, parting them.
“Little devil.” That’s what he says seconds before capturing my lips, giving them the first touch of a lifetime. I lose myself instantly, but he soon guides me—firm movements, pulling at my lips, tasting, deepening the kiss, leaving me even more breathless.
I could describe what happens in those minutes through many analogies. But the one that fits best is the sensation of life and death. I die and come back to life
