It starts to become a habit. He spends some days and nights just watching TV on her couch or exploring soft pale skin like he's painting a canvas. She doesn't complain, whine or ask for anything.
She just seems to accept his unannounced visits like a fact of life and moved on. He finds it just a bit perturbing.
It was just her, he guessed. Mia Rinaldi bounced back from life faster than anyone he knew and she wore her scars like a badge, daring anyone to question her and get kneed in the groin in return.
He blames it on boredom and pressure. Why he keeps coming back.
That and her tastes and smells are just as addictive as anything and he's just a man, prone to base weaknesses.
Like when her head is lying on his chest, her fingers skimming the smooth skin of his stomach as she hums to herself. Her voice sounds pleasant as her hand makes indiscernible patterns on his skin. She smells like sunshine and daffodils and it makes him feel intoxicated like he drank a whole bottle of wine.
And a part of him that part of him that used to worship the ground Lissa walked on, berates him about his behavior, about what he is doing. But the larger part of him that has lost that sad delusion of perfect Princess Lissa could care less.
Because the whole of him is now expected to be the perfect partner for Queen Lissa and he can't take that. Christian Ozera had never followed the crowd and he doesn't want to now.
So that's why he does it. That pathetic, reckless side of him rebels against his new life and he does so by Mia Rinaldi who's willing to let him exhaust himself within her softness and sweetness until he's so sick of it, he can barely stand it.
He also feels that she's the only one he can talk to now. Lissa's busy, Rose couldn't really care and Dimitri was inconceivable. But Mia listens until he's throat hurts from talking and she's half asleep.
She still listens and that meant a lot.
He tells her how angry he is with his aunt, how confused he is with what to do, how he can barely stand the sight of Lissa anymore and how he feels so alone sometimes it hurts more than he'd admit.
She listens, her hands always there to comfort him, her lips always there for a needed kiss.
She listens.
And he drowns himself in her taste until he can barely breathe.
He distracts himself with her until he barely understands anything anymore.
Until she's had enough and slaps himself so hard, his cheek stings red.
She's angry, so angry at him.
"Have you had enough?" She asks, all ice.
No, he'll never have enough. He needs her, he wants more.
"No." He says and he pulls her to him, her struggling until he kisses her so hard, it hurts.
She makes little gasps against his mouth as she finally breaks down and cries and he holds on to her until the sobs end and she kisses him back.
The kisses are slower, softer, and have more emotion to them than any other kiss he's ever shared with anyone. She's yielding and sweetness and softness and he makes love to her with pure honesty this time until she starts to cry and he kisses her tears away.
They lay together in a tangle of dirty sheets, her arms around him as she hummed him to sleep.
